The Dare - Elle Kennedy Page 0,30

a lovely thought.

Hastings Elementary is just a ten-minute walk from my three-story apartment building. There aren’t any high-rises in Hastings, only little buildings and shops, and residential streets lined with townhouses or rambling old Victorians. It’s a cute town and everything is in walking distance, which I appreciate because I don’t own a car.

I let myself into my tiny studio and grab a granola bar from the cupboard. As I munch on it, I text Sasha with my free hand.

ME: I don’t need to dress up for dinner or anything, right??

I’ve never actually gone out with Lisa and those girls, so I have no idea what to expect. But we’re only meeting at the diner, so, really, how fancy can it be?

SASHA: Dress up?? I’m not. Jeans + tank + leather jacket + boots = me.

ME: Ok, good. I’m keeping it cas too.

HER: You bringing C? :P

ME: Why would I be bringing C??

HER: Lisa said bf’s were welcome…

ME: Haha.

Sasha knows damn well that Conor isn’t really my boyfriend, but she’s getting a kick out of teasing me about it. Or maybe she thinks if she refers to him as my boyfriend enough times, then it’ll magically transform from pretend to real. Poor, naïve Sasha. I have no doubt Conor will get bored soon, which means the charade can’t last much longer. A shame, really, because our supposed love affair continues to piss the hell out of Abigail.

Last night at a mandatory house dinner, Abigail’s boyfriend wouldn’t let up on all the “jock cock” I was gobbling while blatantly staring at my tits. During dessert he remarked that I looked like Marilyn Monroe only “extra curvy,” at which point Sasha asked him what it’s like living life with a micropenis. Abigail, meanwhile, kept scratching at the side of her neck every time Conor’s name came up, until her skin was red and raw and flaking off her. Is it possible to contract jealousy hives?

Of course, such pettiness would be entirely beneath me.

Entirely.

ME: You don’t think Lisa invited Abigail, do you?

SASHA: God I hope not. I don’t have the patience for 2 dinners in a row with that witch. If she’s there, we turn around and walk right out, deal?

ME: Deal.

Luckily, when Sasha and I walk into the diner later that night, Abigail and her douchebag boyfriend Kevin are nowhere to be seen. Lisa brought her boyfriend Cory, though, and Robin’s sitting with some guy who introduces himself as “Shep.” Olivia came solo, and I end up seated next to her, with Sasha on my other side.

I get barely a bite into my BLT before the girls start in on me.

“Okay, but, like, how is he in the sack?” Lisa asks, thoroughly ignoring her boyfriend’s uneasy squirm. Clearly he’d rather be anywhere else than smack in the middle of Conor Edwards’ exploits.

You and me both, brother.

“How big is he?” Olivia demands.

“Is he circumcised?”

“Grower or shower?”

“Could we not?” Sasha says, dangling a chicken finger in the air. “I don’t want to hear about dicks while I’m eating.”

“Thank you,” mumbles Cory.

“Fine, but is he a good kisser?” Olivia has her phone out, openly salivating at Conor’s Instagram. The boyfriends have at this point been reduced to chewing their burgers in emasculated silence. “He looks like he’d be a good kisser. Not too much mouth.”

“What does too much mouth even mean?” I ask with a laugh.

“You know, when they’re like trying to swallow your lips. I don’t want to feel any part of the kiss on my chin.” Olivia plants her elbows on the table, a fork in one fist. “Spill it, Taylor. I want filthy details.”

“His kissing is…” A mystery. Unascertained. None of my business. “Apt.”

“Apt, she says.” Sasha shakes her head, smirking. “Only you would call kissing ‘apt.’”

“I don’t know, it’s kissing.” I shrug awkwardly.

How much is there to say on the topic? Nothing, in fact, when I’m working on entirely fabricated experience. Not that the idea doesn’t hold some appeal. Conor is incredibly attractive, and he has really, really nice lips. Full, in a masculine way. He seems like the kind of guy who treats kissing as its own pursuit rather than a means to an end.

To be fair, I haven’t kissed many people—only four, to be exact, and three of those four were terrible experiences. Junior year of high school was my first kiss, and we both sucked at it. Waaaay too much tongue. We made out a few times after that but it didn’t get any better.

Then came freshman year