One Little Dare - Whitney Barbetti Page 0,38

got this degree I’m not using, and I don’t know if I’ll ever use it. And I know how many people would kill for a degree. I don’t like to talk about the fact that I have this piece of paper that cost a lot of money that I’m not using. There’s too much pressure around high school kids after they graduate when they’re still such new adults.”

“Hmm,” I said, listening to her tirade and understanding Will a bit more by it. Had he felt suffocated by the social demands placed on him after high school graduation? I’d brushed it off as him being flighty, but maybe there was something deeper going on. Something I’d never asked him. “So now you teach English to kids online.”

“Yeah.” She relaxed slightly in my arms. “And maybe six months from now, I won’t be doing that. Who knows? But it works right now, so it’s what I’m doing.”

I was quiet for a moment, and realized that the song had long since ended, but still we held one another.

“Hey,” she said, pulling my attention from my thoughts back to her. “We weren’t supposed to talk about our hopes and dreams,” she said after a moment.

“Oh, yeah. Okay. Well, everyone talks about their hopes and dreams.”

“And not everyone has this grand plan, these wild hopes and dreams that they’re chasing.”

“Dreams are overrated. Got it.” Patting the bed, I sat down. “So, if not dreams, what about sharing your tale of woe?”

“My tale of woe.”

“Everyone has one. At least by their mid-twenties.”

She leaned back on the bed, and I followed so that our legs hung off one end and our heads met at the opposite end. With a raise of one eyebrow she said, “Bold of you to assume there’s only one.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.”

She opened her mouth like she was going to say something before closing it. “Only if we take turns. Assuming you have a tale of woe yourself.”

“Bold of you to assume there’s only one,” I repeated her words back to her. “I’ll go first, if you want.”

“Yes.” She rolled to her side, facing me, cushioning her head with her hands.

“You want me to get some popcorn or something?” I asked jokingly in response to her eagerness.

At that, her stomach made a loud sound. We stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I guess I am pretty hungry.”

I pushed myself up onto my elbow and snagged the room service menu on the nightstand.

“Oh, we don’t need to order room service.”

But I’d already picked up the receiver and dialed the extension for the kitchen. “What do you want?”

“Really, Liam—”

“Cake?”

A small smile bloomed on her lips. “Okay.”

I placed the order and turned back to her. “Where were we? Oh, my tale of woe. One of them, at least.”

“Yep.” She nodded and squirmed as she settled into the billowy soft duvet.

“When I was five, I tried jumping over a chain-link fence and got caught on the way down on the other side.” I turned so I could show her the Frankenstein scar along my forearm.

“Whoa.” She dragged her finger down it, her mouth in a little O shape. “That’s pretty gnarly.”

“It felt pretty gnarly.” She dragged her finger back up the scar and it was if there were dozens of nerve endings along its path. One little finger dragged across my skin and I was itching to touch her. But she’d seemed guarded, so I wanted to get to know her first, allow her to get to know me a bit too.

We traded our stories from childhood until room service arrived.

“Champagne,” she said, sitting up on the bed. “I didn’t hear you order it?”

I turned the bottle so the label was in view. “I called it this.”

She laughed. “I thought that was a fancy name for whatever you’d ordered.” I poured us each a glass and handed hers over. “We had our first dance, and now we’re having cake?”

“You called me a romantic. I guess I needed to prove it to myself.”

She picked up one of the two forks I’d laid on the plate. “Tradition says we are supposed to feed each other, doesn’t it?”

Picking up my fork, I nodded. After securing a bite to the fork, I held it up and faced her. “Ready?”

She nodded, bringing the fork close to my mouth. I was so distracted by the parting of her lips that I paid little attention to anything else. Which meant I didn’t see Tori swipe her finger through a glob

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