Page 1 of Double Dared
CHAPTER ONE
taylor
“Not to spoil the ending,but you can see where this is headed,” I said, practically poking Jason with my elbow. “The KGBs never got the gnome back, and Jason can’t pass by their house anymore, while none are the wiser that the little fellow currently sits on a stack of old books up in my room.”
The guys laughed while Jason waved the waiter over and signaled for another round of beers. The night was young, and so were we.
“Show of hands, who here’s heard this tall tale before?” Jason called.
The vote was unanimous.
“Good stories are worth retelling,” I said, shrugging the jibe off.
“Twice before?” Jason asked, his gaze boring into me with a challenge.
My eyebrows flattened as all the hands rose. “Fine. Point proven,assholes.”
“Three times,” Jason declared.
All hands went all the way up.
“Ugh, go finger yourselves,” I said, grabbing the beer practically off the tray. Jim slapped my hand.
“Never while I’m holding it,” he said.
“You still love me,” I tossed back. Jim rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway. “Just because I tipped his tray off-balance twice and footed the bill, he suddenly won’t trust me.”
“Should we keep counting?” Jason asked.
Logan waved his hand while Finn lifted his up to indicate the fourth vote.
“At least I have some stories to tell,” I protested.
Jason settled back in the booth with arms crossed on his chest and a satisfied smile on his face. “That’s the point, T. You live off your fading glory.”
“And you, my friend, have settled for domestic life before you had a chance to carve your name in the annals of history.”
“He said anals,” Finn ruled.
This earned him a few cheap laughs. Nothing worth writing home about.
“I’m not obsessed with winning every bet and seeing through every dare,” Jason said, comfortable with himself as ever. Some, but never myself, would have called it obnoxious. I warned him, I did. He just wouldn’t listen. He had his whole himbo persona worked out and wouldn’t take notes.
“I wouldn’t call it an obsession. I’m just cool,” I said.
“I dare you to admit you are obsessed with dares,” Jason declared.
“Or else?” I asked.
“You will forever be known as the biggest coward at this table,” he said with satisfaction.
“Biggest, you say? I wouldn’t mind snatching that record,” I shot back without thinking.
He turned to the other guys for support. “Am I crazy? We’re all seeing this, right?”
The guys nodded, entertained and amused like they were supposed to be. I’d do anything for a laugh. No joke was too self-deprecating, and no dare was too difficult if it made for a fun night in our booth.
Silence settled at the table then. We each developed an instant and intense interest in our individual beers, eyeing the foam, looking at the bubbles, checking how much condensation had already pooled under the rim of the tall glasses. Finn’s beer was hazy, Jason’s was a clear wheat one, and Logan sipped a red ale that stank like the dentist’s office. Greg’s was a malt that looked more like molasses than beer. I seemed to be the only sane person at this table, having a moderately hoppy IPA that had a bitter tang to it, but a roasted aftertaste was worth acquiring this particular taste.
