The Dare - Elle Kennedy Page 0,2

trade barbs in my defense.

Abigail answers with a sarcastic laugh.

“Are we playing or not?” demands Jules Munn, Abigail’s sidekick. The tall brunette saunters over to us, donning a bored look. “What’s the matter? Sasha trying to back out from doing a dare again like she did at the Harvest Bash?”

“Fuck off,” Sasha shoots back. “You dared me to throw a brick through the dean’s window. I wasn’t about to get expelled over some juvenile sorority game.”

Jules arches a brow. “Did she just insult an age-old tradition, Abs? Because I think she did.”

“Oh, she did. But no worries, here’s your chance for redemption, Sasha,” Abigail offers sweetly, then pauses. “Hmm. I dare you to…” She turns toward her spectators while contemplating the dare. She’s nothing if not in it for the attention. Then she snaps back around to face Sasha. “Do the Double Double then sing the chapter symphony.”

My best friend snorts and shrugs, as if to say, Is that all?

“Upside down and backwards,” Abigail adds.

Sasha curls her lips and sort of snarls at her, which gets the guys in the room hooting in amusement. Dudes love catfights.

“Whatever.” Rolling her eyes, Sasha steps forward and shakes out her arms like a boxer warming up for a fight.

The Double Double is another Kappa party tradition, which entails downing two double shots of whatever’s lying around, then a ten-second beer bong followed by a ten-second keg stand. Even the sturdiest drinkers among us rarely make it through the gauntlet. Throwing a handstand on top of it while singing the house song backwards is just Abigail being a spiteful bitch.

But as long as it won’t get her expelled, Sasha is never one to back down from a challenge. She ties her thick black hair in a ponytail and accepts the shot glass that materializes out of nowhere, dutifully tossing back one shot, then the next. She powers through the beer bong while a couple Theta guys hold up the funnel for her, the crowd around her screaming their encouragement. To a cacophony of cheers, she muscles her way past the keg stand with a six-three hockey player keeping her legs in the air. When she’s right-side up again, everyone’s impressed to see her even able to stand, much less looking mean and holding steady. That girl’s a warrior.

“Stand back!” Sasha declares, clearing people from the far wall.

With a gymnast’s flourish, she thrusts her arms in the air and then sort of half-cartwheels so that her backside is flush against the wall in a handstand. Loud and confident, she belts out the words to our house song in reverse while the rest of us stupidly try to keep up in our heads to make sure she’s getting it right.

Then, when she’s done, Sasha completes an elegant dismount back to her feet and gives the crowd a bow to resounding applause.

“You’re a fucking robot,” I say, laughing when she prances over to resume her spot slouching in our losers’ corner. “Beautiful dismount.”

“Never met a landing I couldn’t stick.” Freshman year Sasha was on her way to Olympic qualifiers as one of the best vaulters in the world before she busted her knee slipping on some ice, and that was it for her gymnastics career.

Not to be outshined, Abigail sets her gaze on me. “Your turn, Taylor.”

I take a deep breath. My heart races. Already I feel my cheeks burning red. Abigail smiles at my discomfort like a shark alerting to the vibrations of a wriggling seal in distress. I brace myself for whatever evil endeavor she’s concocting for me.

“I dare you to...” She drags her teeth across her bottom lip. I see my impending humiliation in her eyes before she even opens her mouth. “Get a guy of my choice to take you upstairs.”

Bitch.

Debauched hoots and catcalls burst from the men still watching this display of female aggression play out.

“Come on, Abs. Getting date-raped isn’t a party game.” Sasha steps forward, shielding me with her body.

Abigail rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’ll pick someone good. Someone anybody would want to get sweaty with. Even Taylor.”

God, please don’t make me have to do this.

To my sheer relief, help comes in the form of Taylor Swift.

“Fixed it!” a sorority sister yells, just as music once again fills the house.

T-Swift’s “Blank Space” elicits a wave of excited cheers, drawing attention away from Abigail’s stupid game. The crowd promptly disperses to refill their drinks and get back to the rhythmic foreplay of dancing.

Thank you, hotter and skinnier