Truth or Dare: A Sweet Romantic Comedy Collection Read online

  I have Italian blood in me, I can’t help having a hot-temper, and since graduation, the stress of finding a job using my philosophy degree has put me on edge. Turns out, there’s not much out there. So, I’m stuck working for Bed Bath and Beyond while I figure it out. Meanwhile, Mark, who studied journalism, lands himself his own column in a national paper. His own column!

  I stuff a handful of chips in my face and collapse on the tiny sofa bed sitting in the middle of the dimly lit room.

  “Wow, you can see why Michelle calls this the bat cave,” Mark says as he descends the stairs. The walls are painted black, and an entire wall is covered by a projector screen. Movie room would be a better name, but her brother used to live in the basement until he got a job in Texas and moved out. I guess the name stuck.

  Mark shakes his dark hair. It curls around his ears and he gives me a smolder, his eyes twinkling. It sends shivers of excitement through me, but I clamp my teeth against my lip to stop myself from smiling.

  “Don’t do that,” I blurt, rubbing the goose bumps on my arms. Mark sets the drinks on the coffee table and joins me on the sofa. His body heat is like a furnace. It’s as if flames are burning my cheeks as he rests his arm behind me on the back of the couch.

  “Do what?” he asks, in a deliciously low tone. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I stare at him for a moment. He licks his bottom lip as he meets my gaze.

  “You drive me crazy; do you know that?” I stand up and grab a drink as Mark chuckles to himself.

  “The feeling is mutual,” he shoots back. I glance at him and feel torn. Part of me wants to slap that stupid smirk off his face. The other part wants to grab his neck and throw myself onto his lips.

  “We’re going to be in here for a while. What do you want to do to pass the time?” he asks. My cheeks are flaming hot by now as my eyes scan his perfectly formed muscles. His white shirt leaves little up to the imagination, and even if it did, my memory can fill in the blanks.

  “There’s a bunch of movies down here. What are you in the mood for?” I wander over to a cabinet and open it up, looking at the stacks of discs. Now that I think about it, there are worse places to get locked in than Michelle’s basement. At least there’s a bathroom, snack bar and an unlimited supply of movies to watch. Of course, there’s only the one couch. And my company is not only outrageously sexy, but also equally annoying.

  “Whatever you want, I’m easy,” Mark says from the couch. I stifle a laugh. Yes, too easy. I bet if I jumped on him right now, he wouldn’t protest. I push the thought out of my mind, grab a random disc and march across the room.

  “Why do you hate me?”

  Mark’s question stops me in my tracks. His eyes become wide and sincere, and for a moment I forget that he’s the biggest jerk on the planet and see him as a sweet little boy just wanting to be loved.

  “I don’t hate you,” I reply carefully. I walk over to the console and insert the disc, chewing my lip with thought.

  “Then why do you act like you hate me?”

  I turn around with surprise at this sudden change in attitude. But it’s better than having him come on to me. So I decide to just go with it.

  “There’s things I don’t like about you,” I say, twirling my hair and averting my eyes from his steady gaze.

  “Want to tell me what they are?”

  “What, here? Now?”

  “Well, we’re not exactly going anywhere.” Mark chuckles again. “You’ve got a captive audience, so why not?” He pats the space on the couch beside him. I hesitate.

  “You want me to list the things I don’t like about you?” I ask incredulously.

  “There’s a list?” Mark shakes his head to himself. “Yes. I would like to know. Besides, if you tell me what you don’t like about me. I’ll tell you what I don’t like about you.”

  His words sting, but I take a deep breath. Well, if it stops us from doing something we’d regret in the morning…

  “Okay, deal.” I hand him a drink and sit on the couch.

  “What I don’t like about you… number one.”

  Mark

  This will be interesting. I didn’t think there could be a whole list of things Debbie doesn’t like about me. On the one hand, I’m intrigued. Just what is it about me that rubs her up the wrong way? On the other hand, I’m worried that this is going to be painful.

  Maybe this was Michelle’s master plan. Lock us in a room and force us to talk about our feelings. Something I’m not very good at.

  “Your arrogance,” Debbie says bluntly. I look at her, mildly offended, but I cannot think of a reply.

  I can see how it might seem like I’m arrogant. My dad taught me that to survive in this world, a man needs to assert himself. He needs to show everyone he’s confident and capable. So, even if my head is full of doubts, I play it cool. At all times.

  “I’m not arrogant,” I think aloud. Debbie scoffs and drags her fingers through her glossy brown hair. I watch, aching to do the same and caress her cheek. Instead, I clear my throat. “I just act confident.”

  Debbie hums in thought and gives me a wry smile. I can’t take my eyes off her delicate lips.

  “Don’t tell me underneath the cocky alpha male act, there’s an insecure man just hoping the world won’t see through it?”

  She nestles into the couch, lifting her legs and tucking her feet underneath her. The TV remote lies untouched on the coffee table and I get the feeling that she has forgotten about the movie.

  “I wouldn’t call myself insecure,” I correct her. Insecure sounds weak, pathetic. “But sometimes I worry…”

  I stop talking, trying to find the words to convey my feelings, but it’s not easy. Debbie’s smile falls and her brows pinch together as she touches my arm briefly.

  “Worry about what?” she asks. The tone of her voice is softer now, and she looks at me with a kind of intensity that makes me wonder if she can see right into my soul.

  “If I’ll ever be good enough,” I blurt.

  An awkward silence follows as Debbie looks down and I wrestle with my thoughts. Did I say too much? Should I explain?

  Debbie and I have known each other since high school. Which might explain why she has this skewed impression of me. I was arrogant. Especially in senior year. But I was captain of the football team, I had cheerleaders falling at my feet, and I was getting straight A’s. I was flying high and nothing could get in my way.

  Those were the days. It’s pretty hard to keep yourself from being over-confident when it feels like you have the whole world in your hands. Debbie and Katia were too involved with the drama geeks to fit in with my crowd, but they were popular with the guys. Who doesn’t love the idea of having a beautiful twin on each arm?

  When I got into college, everything changed. I went from top of the pack to runt of the litter in a matter of weeks. I thought I knew everything and had it all figured out, but college life was a whole other ball game.

  If it wasn’t for our gang of misfits, college would have destroyed me.

  “Okay, so what’s next?” I ask, shaking my thoughts away. Debbie looks up at me dazed, as if she was lost in her own.

  “Huh? Oh, right.” She takes a deep breath and flicks her hair back. “What I don’t like about you, number two; you’re too positive.”

  “What?” I say blankly. “Too positive? You’re saying that’s a bad thing?” I drag my hands over my face. Then I point at Debbie. “So let me get this straight. You think I should be more negative?”

  A flush of color floods Debbie’s face as she grins at me.

  “You know what I mean,” she says with a laugh. She nudges my arm and I can’t decide whether to nudge her back or grab her arm and pull her in for a kiss. Curiosity gnaws at my stomach.

  “No, I don’t. You’ll have to explain this one to me.” I pick up my drink and give her an expectant look.

  Debbie chews her lip and her gorgeous eyes shoot to the ceiling.

  “Okay, look.” She straighten
s her posture and eyes me seriously. “It’s great to be positive. I get that. But sometimes when you’re having a lousy day, the last thing you need is a ray of sunshine rolling in telling everyone to smile.”

  “I’ve never done that.”

  “Told someone to smile? Yes, you have.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  I whistle and rub the back of my neck, struggling to think of a single time I’ve told Debbie to smile. Especially when she’s having a bad day. I wouldn’t do that.

  “Remember that thing you say? ‘Careful! If the wind blows, your face will stay that way.’ It’s infuriating!” Debbie throws her hands up to the ceiling as she complains. As if heaven can see her. In the basement.

  “You know; these are not too serious. I think you’re struggling to find reasons to hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you. Remember.”

  Debbie’s face softens and she shifts her weight, biting her lip in the most teasing way. I can’t even think straight.

  Here we are, locked in a basement, all alone. And I’m pretty sure Debbie is running out of excuses not to kiss me.

  “Anything else, or is that it?”

  Debbie leaps to her feet and crosses the room with her arms folded. Her hips sashay with her movements and my eyes linger on the narrow of her back, just where the bottom of her hair reaches. If there is a heaven, I’ll never make it there with the thoughts going through my mind. She turns in a swift move, like a dancer, and stands poised and elegant. Her hands rest on her hips and she pouts at me. It’s almost too much to handle. She’s impossible to resist. Flashes of memories invade my mind… My hands running across the curve of her hips and squeezing her thighs, her breath tickling my neck and the press of her velvet lips burning my skin. My throat constricts at the thought.

  “You always get what you want,” Debbie says firmly, her arms now folded. “Scrap that. You always get anything or anyone you want.”

  I find myself on my feet, but I don’t remember leaving the couch. The statement burns somewhere in my chest and my stomach clenches.

  “That’s not true.” The words fly out of my mouth like a roar. It takes me back. Where did that even come from? The sound of laughter and voices fade from upstairs and Debbie’s eyes widen as she takes a step back.

  “Hey, is everything okay down there?” Ryder’s muffled voice calls out from behind the door.

  I mouth an apology to Debbie as she shouts back up.

  “Don’t worry. We’re fine.” She takes a moment to look at me furtively, then she turns away. She plays with her hair and hums to herself, as if thinking about the situation. Meanwhile, I stand frozen on the spot, heart pumping fast and my hands trembling. Like an idiot.

  Debbie has always had the ability to push my buttons. In ways I never think possible.

  Arrogance – I can understand. Positivity – it’s a silly one, but I get it. Thinking I always get what I want? She couldn’t be more wrong.

  “Well, that was an odd reaction,” Debbie finally says, breaking the awkward silence. She returns to the couch with the bowl of chips and stuffs a handful in her mouth.

  “Want to explain?”

  As if on autopilot, I sit next to her and rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. Does she not realize how badly I want her? Can she really be that ignorant?

  “You think I always get what I want? Seriously?” I say, winded. I rub my aching chest and look at her with disbelief. She merely shrugs back, still munching.

  “You got everything. The nice house in Manhattan – not some tiny apartment in the Bronx. Your own column, a nice car... And you’re always out partying with girls.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been stalking me on Instagram,” I tease. Debbie’s face grows red as her cheeks dimple. The thought of her scrolling through my social media ignites a fire of excitement within me.

  “You don’t get it,” Debbie says, her face falling. “I’ve dreamed my whole life of becoming a writer. Touring the world, giving seminars and meeting people. But instead, I’m stuck managing the hardware department in Bed Bath and Beyond. And instead of going out to glitzy parties, I’m at home watching Netflix or doing stupid dares.”

  “But you hate parties,” I add, cocking a brow at her. “And you love staying home watching Netflix.”

  Debbie shoots me a look, it’s a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

  “How did you know that?”

  I tap my nose. But how hard is it to believe that I would know her after all these years? My hand moves without warning and I grasp her cheek, caressing her smooth skin with my thumb.

  “And there’s something else,” I mumble, leaning in. Debbie’s breath catches with a gasp and her eyelashes flutter as she glances at my mouth. “You said I always get who I want.”

  Debbie nods and exhales as I graze her bottom lip with a fingertip.

  “Then tell me something,” I say, barely above a whisper, inching my forehead closer to hers. “If I always get who I want, why is it that after you gave me the most passionate kiss of my entire life you then left me high and dry in the summer?”

  I survey Debbie’s face closely as she gasps again. A flush of color rises from her collarbone to her cheeks.

  “I––I…” she stammers, but no other words come out.

  “Tell me Debbie. Why have you been avoiding me ever since? Did you not like kissing me? Was it bad?”

  Debbie’s eyes are still focused on my mouth, her breaths come out short and ragged. It would be so easy to pull her in and taste her again. The allure of her perfume is intoxicating and it takes every ounce of my resolve to hold back, but I have to know what she’s thinking.

  “Do you regret that night?” I ask, dreading the answer. It was a night that will be forever etched in my memory. Definitely in the top three of my life’s highlights so far. Debbie’s breaths tickle my lips and she looks at me through her dark lashes. My hand is frozen on her cheek and I hold my breath. Waiting.

  “I do regret it,” she says finally, and the words sink like heavy rocks to the bottom of my stomach. My hand falls to my lap and I pull away.

  “Right,” I say, clearing my throat and swallowing against a lump. “Well, there you have it. I do not get whoever I want.” I gesture to her and give a frank smile before averting my eyes. “Because all I’ve ever wanted, is you.”

  There. I said it. Finally, my brain and my mouth made connection and I am able to finally express my true feelings. With no jibe, no smirk. Not even a hint of sarcasm, either. I’m pretty impressed. But Debbie’s reaction hits me like a dagger to the heart.

  I’m not sure what I expect. A kiss? A sigh? Maybe an apology?

  No.

  She laughs. Debbie laughs so loudly, she’s doubled over, tears running down her face and cheeks flushed. I watch her, blinking in silence and wondering just what is so funny.

  Well, that went down like a lead balloon.

  Debbie

  I have this terrible habit when it comes to awkward moments. When we were kids, Katia fell off the swings and broke her arm. She cried so much that within minutes we were surrounded by our parents and other kids at the park. We were hurried into the car and dad raced us to the hospital. It was traumatizing and Katia wailed almost the entire time.

  Normal people would show concern, even if they were only eight years old. But I did the unthinkable. I laughed.

  And I’ve just done it again.

  Thing is, Mark’s line is so unexpected and cheesy, how can I not laugh?

  All he’s ever wanted is me? What a joke.

  The tears in my eyes do not obscure my vision enough to miss the hurt on his face, and a twinge of guilt pangs my stomach. I take a moment to recover and find myself on my feet. How can I come back from this? I know, play the mad card.

  “You have a funny way of showing it,” I say in an accusatory tone. Mark looks at me with surprise and shrugs.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, bewildered.

  “How
long have we known each other? Since freshman year. And you mostly ignored the fact I existed until senior year. You’ve teased me mercilessly ever since.”

  “Didn’t anyone tell you that’s how guys show they’re into you?”

  “In kindergarten, yeah. But if you want me, the grown-up thing to do is to ask me out. Not make fun of me,” I shoot back, planting my hands firmly on my hips. I sound like my mother.

  Mark rises and takes my hand. His skin is hot to touch, and I worry if he holds me for too long, I’ll start to melt.

  “But last summer… don’t you remember?”

  My breath comes out shallow as my shoulders slump.

  Last summer, all of us went to a cabin at the lake to celebrate our graduation. Drinks were flowing, the moon was huge, and it illuminated the water in the most transcendental way. I never drink. But what I thought was a tonic water, had something a lot stronger slipped in. It burned the back of my throat and lowered my defences. The result? I flirted shamelessly with Mark. Cozied up to him, rubbed his back, pecked his cheek.

  He should have stopped me. Walked away. Realized I was not acting like myself, but he went along with it.

  He fisted my hair as I grasped his neck and the two of us made out under the moonlight until our lungs ached. We broke apart, breathless. Then Mark took my hand and pressed his lips on the back of it.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time,” he muttered into my ear. His breath tickled my cheeks and he smoothed my hair away from my face.

  Things would have gone farther that night. I eyed him brazenly and clutched his forearms, licking my lips. I wanted it to go farther.

  But just as Mark leaned in for another kiss, the drink made an unexpected reappearance. All over his shirt. Horrified is not a strong enough word. I dashed back into the cabin and locked myself in the bathroom.

  Neither of us had spoken about that moment since.

  Until now.

  My cheeks are on fire, and I want the ground to swallow me up. How could he bring this up now?