That Ian guy strokes my fingers like a mini harp. Every hair on my arm rises in pleasure. His caresses work like some kind of magic acupressure, calming the pain in my leg.
Oh yeah, I’m still on the phone. “Ian’s been great. I’ll see you tomorrow morning to help strike down the set, okay? Thanks for being my wingman on the prelim dares. I owe you. Bye, Tommy, you’re the best.” I clap my phone shut before he can nag me any more.
Ian frowns. “I thought I was the best. You two-timing me already?” His mouth curls upward.
Mmm. He’s feeling we have enough of a connection where “two-timing” is even worth mentioning? He bites his lip in a way that makes me want to bite it too. If he’s playing me, he’s good. And why would he want to play me anyway? We’re on the same side.
My phone rings with a rock song I recognize from a cop show. Seems like I can’t get away from the Rolling Stones tonight. Weird that Ian’s phone is silent.
When I read the next message, my face scrunches up.
His eyes widen. “What is it?”
I try to make sense of what I’m reading. “This dare’s, um, different.”
“How?”
The warmth of the car dissipates. Telling Ian about this dare means explaining some stuff about myself. Behind-the-scenes second banana to Sydney kind of stuff. Once he sees the real me, this fairy tale will end.
I swallow. “It has to do with my real life.”
His harp playing moves from my fingers up my arm. Sweet music. “As opposed to this, your fake life?”
“Not fake, just more like surreal, you know?”
His gaze is steady. “The dares are a game, but everything between them isn’t. Not for me, anyway.”
“For me either. What I mean is that this time NERVE wants me to mess with people who aren’t strangers. And for some reason, the dare doesn’t mention you.”
He shrugs. “I’m sure they’ll come up with something for me. So what do they want you to do?”
I stare out the windshield. “To go to the auditorium where we had a school play tonight. I did the makeup and costumes. Anyway, I need to go to the cast party and confront a friend about something, and then I have to add a negative critique on her performance.” The last bit just seems silly and cruel. But what I really can’t get my head around is how NERVE knew I was mad at Sydney. Who told them? Liv and Eulie? Did they think they were helping me?
He slides his hand down my arm. “Doesn’t sound too bad compared to what else you’ve faced tonight. Those hookers could’ve scratched your eyes out. Your friend wouldn’t do that, right?”
I consider it for a moment. “Nah. She’s more about drama than violence.” I exhale loudly. “But this dare feels harder. It’s one thing doing obnoxious stuff in front of strangers. These are my friends.” Which in theory should actually be easier, but nothing about this dare feels easy.
His hand is smooth and warm against mine. “I get it.”
Does he? It’s hard to imagine him flustered or tongue-tied in front of his friends. Although he did seem nervous when that pimp wanted to take him for a walk. Who wouldn’t?
“You going to tell me what the confrontation is about?” he asks.
I sigh. “A guy. But it’s ancient history.” Surprising how fast my feelings for Matthew have faded.
He raises an eyebrow. “Will this confrontation be leading to a catfight? Please say yes. I’ll pay you myself.”
I hit his arm. “Don’t get your hopes up. This guy’s not worth it. I told you, ancient history.” Nothing like one hot guy to get your mind off of another.
“How ancient?”
I check my phone. “About three hours.”
We both laugh.
His own phone buzzes. He reads with a puzzled expression. “My dare’s in two parts, but they only sent the first one, where I get to be basically a prop for your dare.”
“What do you have to do?”
“Flirt with the hottest girl there.”
My heart sinks. Another coup for Sydney. How did NERVE know the best way to ruin my night? Confronting Syd while Ian flirts with her would be my own custom-tailored hell. I grimace. Then I realize that it’s only hell if I decide to go through with it.
“Well, the dare doesn’t matter anyway,” I say. “I’m quitting.”
He sits upright. “Why? It wouldn’t be dangerous. You’ll get to see your friends. And I’ll be gushing over you the whole time.”
“No, you’ll be too busy flirting with the hottest girl there.” And she’ll be lapping it up.
He places a hand on each side of my face. “The hottest girl there will be you, no question.”
I study those succulent lips. “You haven’t met my divalicious best friend, Sydney, star of the play and every other event at my school.” There, now he’ll begin to see the truth. My admission is the first crack in this dream façade we’ve constructed, more temporary than any of the sets Tommy built for the play.
His gaze grows intense. “I’ve met you. And I promise, you’re way more enticing than any drama queen. Flirting with you will be the easiest dare ever.”
“Ha. You make it almost sound tempting.”
“You should know all about being tempting.” He pulls one of the elastic bands from my hair, and then the other as he leans forward, slowly. An electric buzz shimmers across my skin as our lips meet. His mouth feels as luscious as it looks. I could drown in this guy. So I do. All sense of time is lost as we press into each other. He tastes like berries, the kind you can’t get enough of. My body aches in all the right spots. I can barely catch my breath when we part.
His voice is husky. “C’mon, Vee. This dare will be all about you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you shine in front of your friends. Drama girl will be forgotten by the time we’re done there.”
As if Sydney’s someone you could ever forget. She’s always been larger than life, back to the first day of kindergarten, when she arrived wearing a tiara and peacock feathers. All the kids wanted to play with her, but she chose me as her confidante, the quiet girl who color-coordinated her outfits with her pencils and erasers. I wore a lot of yellow and pink in those days.
But that year and every one since then, I continued to feel special that she singled me out, and valued my opinion. Not that she doesn’t value her own opinion more. She always claims to be an excellent judge of character and that she knew from day one we’d be friends for life. I’ve accepted her friendship gratefully, not caring that everyone sees me as her sidekick. She may be emotive and bossy, but she’s always been loyal. Until tonight. How could she have turned on me?
I study Ian’s perfect cheekbones. He responds by running a finger along my temple that sends a yummy tremble through my core. Who knew that such a light touch could feel so good? What a rush it would be to show up at the theater with someone who seems to be so into me. For once, I’d be the one with the prize. The image is too delicious to ignore.
I calculate. We could make it to the auditorium in twenty minutes and be out in another ten. With luck, I’d make it home by curfew. And if not, maybe Mom and Dad will have fallen asleep watching a late-night news show.
Ian smiles. “If I complete the first part of my dare, the prize is a gift card to Gotta-Hava-Java. You wouldn’t want me to miss out on that, would you?”
“I’m sure the barista would welcome you with open arms.”
“Welcome us. You’d be my date.”
A date. The future. Sounds so magic. His mention of a prize makes me realize that as soon as I’d spotted Syd’s name in my message from NERVE, I’d skipped over the link to what I’d win. Taking a breath, I open my phone and check.
My jaw plummets. “Oh wow, if I do this dare, I’ll get a shopping spree at my favorite clothing store. With a three-thousand-dollar limit.” That would buy a whole new wardrobe. Still vintage, of course, but way less frugal, and way more flashy—no, not flashy, noticeable. And why not? I’m the girl who’s completed two live dares tonight. People
will see me differently when I return to school on Monday.
He shifts closer. “There’s no downside, baby.”
God, I’d do the dare just to keep hearing him call me “baby.”
“But I’ve never confronted Sydney before. Not like this.” I wring my hands, unsure of how to continue. “Most of our arguments are no big deal, since she usually gets her way. When we get really mad at each other, she goes all reality show, crying and stomping, and I get quiet. But we always make up. And we’ve never fought over a guy.” I don’t add that there isn’t a point. Sydney snags whatever guy she wants, regardless of what anyone else thinks.
“She sounds spoiled. And whatever guy you were fighting over sounds brain-dead.”
I laugh. Would Matthew be jealous if I walked in with Ian? It would serve him right for leading me on the past few weeks. Sydney would understand my desire to teach him a lesson. And she should respect me for calling her out on going after someone I was interested in, even if this is a dramatic way of doing so. Then again, who better to appreciate drama than her? Maybe tonight will be a turning point in our friendship. One that makes things a tiny bit more equal.
With visions of patriots demanding justice, I say, “Okay. Let’s do it.”
He guns the engine. “Vee, Vee, Vee,” he sings, narrowing his eyes, “is so very…”
“Very what?”
He gazes at me, boring into my soul, it feels. “Very very. That’s what you are. Very, very, verrrrrrry.” Those Vs. Those lips.
“You’re very very yourself.”
At the stoplight, he pulls me toward him, giving me a reminder of how very very he is. A car behind us honks when the light turns.
Quicker than I would’ve thought, we’re at the parking lot. There are at least a dozen cars, but not Tommy’s. He must have been watching and worrying about me from home. Hopefully, if he’s still watching, he’ll understand. How was I supposed to know that NERVE would throw me a dare like this? Come to think of it, what’s the appeal of this dare to the audience? It’s not like random Watchers can crash the party. Ms. Santana may not be much of a chaperone, but she’d kick strangers out in a heartbeat. Maybe NERVE has put together a whole long fairy tale about how much I like Matthew, but now I like Ian too. The audience will think they’re witnessing a love triangle. Awkward, since Ian’ll be the one videoing it, but if that’s how NERVE wants to spend their money, fine with me.
Well, maybe not so fine. Now that we’re here, I’m having second thoughts about Ian seeing Sydney. When has a guy ever paid more attention to me than her? What if he can’t help himself?
He turns off the engine. “The rain’s eased up. We should run in before it pours again.”
No time to weigh the options. The more I think, the more likely I am to chicken out. And I’m sick of that. I bite my bottom lip so it’s plump and red, the poor girl’s makeup. Pulling our jackets over our heads, we exit the car and jog through the drizzle.
“Showtime, beautiful,” Ian says, grabbing my hand.
I force a smile and take a deep breath. And another.
Yeah, showtime.
nine
We enter the main auditorium door and wipe our damp faces with our sleeves before heading farther inside. Dance music blares alongside yelps of laughter. As we enter the main hall, Sydney, still dressed in a corset snug enough to asphyxiate most mortals, flits around the stage with the male cast members, gay and straight, following in her wake. They dart behind a scrim that Tommy designed and I helped paint. Depending upon how the gauzy drop was lit during the play, the view from the audience shifted between an arctic meadow and the stark tableau of an interrogation chamber. Right now it’s in meadow mode, with Sydney featured as its most colorful butterfly.
I wrap my jacket around me like a cocoon and watch Ian watching the actors. Is his gaze lingering on Sydney?
When she catches my eye, she jumps down from the stage. “Veeeeeee! We’ve been rooting for you!” Despite four-inch heels, she dashes up the center aisle and almost knocks me down with a hug so tight I feel the bamboo slats in her costume.
Huh? If she was mad after my dare last night, she should be furious now. Maybe this is just a public show of support for her best friend. Which is hard to believe after the public betrayal with Matthew.
She pulls away, her eyes on Ian. He puts one arm around me and extends the other, introducing himself.
She laughs and holds up her phone. “Of course I know who you are. We all do. Did you see the grand prize rounds in Chicago? One guy just swam in fish guts.”
She motions to Jake, a guy almost as small as me, who holds up a tablet. Someone sloshes around in the video, and I swear I can smell rancid fish. As soon as the clip is over, an ad floats across the screen. It’s an image of a girl who’s also swimming in something gloppy, only it’s green and she’s gasping. A pop-up replaces her photo with one of another girl wearing pigtails and a vampire shirt, shying away from two girls in shiny hot pants. Oh my God.
I point to the screen. “I don’t believe they’re using pictures of me to promote the game.”
Sydney howls at my reaction. “Believe it. So why are you guys here? Is the game over? Did you decide not to risk everything you’ve won on a grand prize round? They just started one in Colorado.”
Ian moves his arm lower and squeezes my waist, a move not lost on Syd. “We’re kind of in a wait-and-see mode. Your makeup looks fantastic, by the way.”
She strokes her cheek. “Yeah, Vee’s very talented.”
He presses his face momentarily to my hair. “Yes, very.”
She cocks her head as if maybe she didn’t hear him correctly.
Part of me wants to savor the moment; part of me wants to get this over with. Now. Ready or not, I open my mouth. “Um, Syd, there’s something we need to discuss.” I wish I could tell her that this is part of a dare.
Her brow furrows. “Like why you decided to keep playing NERVE? I think I understand.” She winks at Ian. What’s with her? Does she think we’ll put in a good word when she applies for the game next month?
He ignores her and pulls out his phone like he’s checking for messages. He glances at me and gives me an air kiss, never shifting his gaze to Syd for a second. I think I’m in love.
Sydney stands there with a blank look. Has a guy ever ignored her before?
“So, Syd—” I say.
From the back of the theater, a door slams.
Tommy marches through the main entrance. His eyes shoot me like lasers.
A wave of guilt threatens to swallow me. I give him a weak wave. What’s he doing here?
He raises a serious-looking camera in front of his face. It has a microphone boom attached to the front like a rhino’s horn. Oh geez, he must be our official Watcher.
I turn toward Ian, but he stares at his phone with a stunned expression. Then he swallows and says, “Just tell her what you need to. Fast.”
I clear my throat and say to Syd, “I agreed to play in the live rounds because I was mad at you.”
She puts a hand to her chest. “Me?”
I can’t help feeling a little sorry for her. My behavior and Ian’s must be causing her to question reality as she knows it.
Tommy stops next to us so that Sydney and I are in frame, beneath the microphone boom. A red light on his camera pulsates like an angry heartbeat.
Sydney squints. “What are you doing, Tommy?”
He raises a finger to his lips.
I grab Syd’s arm. “Let’s go back to a dressing room.”
She resists. “What’s this about? Why were you mad?” Her voice has risen a few decibels.
Does she really not know? “I’ll tell you when we have some privacy.”
Tommy grunts. “If you wanted privacy, your boyfriend wouldn’t be broadcasting this.”
Sydney’s forehead tightens. She grabs at Ian’s phone. “You’re filming us too? Is this is a dare? You’re doing this for another dare?”
Ian pockets his
phone, but instead of answering Syd, he glares at everyone in the room, as if daring them to stop me.
I try to finish this awful mission. “Look, Syd. I just need to say something really quick, then we’ll be gone.” I tell myself this isn’t an invasion of her privacy. Not that she’s ever cared much about privacy. Her ThisIsMe page is filled with bikini shots.
I say in a low voice, “I was mad because you came on to someone that you knew I was interested in.”
“Louder,” Tommy says. “Your audience can’t hear you.”
Sydney crosses her arms in front of her chest, which only gives her more cleavage. Now that she knows she’s on stage, there’s no telling where things will go, except that she’ll end up looking good for her audience. Wait a minute, it’s my audience.
The faster I get through the dare, the more likely I am to survive. Or at least not faint. I’m already seeing spots. “You know I liked one of your costars.” I glance at Ian, hoping he noticed I used the past tense, but he doesn’t seem to notice me. His face is filled with pain.
I continue anyway. “But you threw yourself at him during the last act tonight. The script said kiss, not maul.”
Syd’s eyes go wide. “Are you talking about Matthew?” Her well-trained voice carries across the theater.
“What about me?” Matthew says, jumping down from the stage. When he joins us, I notice three different shades of lipstick on his cheeks and the aroma of at least that many perfumes. The guy’s a freakin’ petri dish.
I put my hand up toward him. “Nothing about you, Matthew.”
Someone has turned off the music. Ms. Santana? Where is she, anyway? And where are Liv and Eulie? They’d stick up for me, I’m sure. Everyone else stares at us, and a few point their phones. Even Jake, the one kid who sometimes helps me with costume design, holds up his tablet to film the scene. I should be used to this kind of attention tonight, but the camera glares burn like hot pokers on my skin.
I turn toward the crowd. “Okay, back to partying, you guys. This’ll all be posted soon enough.”
No one moves.