The Dare (The Bet 3)

Maybe I shouldn't have.

Because if I hadn't taken two steps at a time.

If I hadn't come home early.

My life would be different. Granted, I'd be living in ignorance, but still. I wouldn't be carrying around scars, and I wouldn't want to run the other way every time a woman smiled at me.

I cleared my throat and snuck a look at Beth. She was reading People Magazine.

What did I really know about her? Good kisser. Nice ass. And a hell of a laugh. Unless she'd somehow turned into a chain smoker, causing her laugh to sound more like a hack. But that was it. For all I knew, she really had been a prostitute at some point in her life. Maybe she had dirty little secrets just waiting to pop out. Who didn't? Furthermore, how else did she put herself through med school? I didn't say my logic was sound, but I was also under an extreme amount of stress, which is probably why, as the plane took off, I blurted out, "Are you a prostitute?"

Unfortunately, when they seat you at the back of the plane, what they really mean is they're seating you next to all the crying and screaming kids that nobody else wants near first class, where Grandma and everyone else was drinking and laughing.

If I breathed hard enough, I could imagine that the shit I was smelling wasn't from the little kid in front of me, but some sort of —.oh, who was I kidding? I was in hell. And I had five whole hours to wallow.

A few parents turned angry eyes in my direction. I was too tired to care. So what? I'd said prostitute.

"Prostitute?" Beth repeated, louder than I'd initially said it. "And just how did you come to that conclusion Mr. Senator?"

"Okay, if you keep calling me that, I'm going to start calling you cookie monster, and we both know how you feel about that."

"Bastard."

"I'll take it. Anything's better than Mr. Senator."

Beth rolled her eyes and looked back at her magazine.

"Are you going to answer my question, or do you want me to see if the flight attendant has any cookies?"

"Do I look like a prostitute?" Beth snapped.

"Well..." If I said she did, that basically meant I was calling her slutty, and if I said she didn't, I had an inkling

she'd take that as me saying she wasn't attractive enough to be one. Maybe I was overthinking things a bit. I tugged at the collar of my shirt,. "No."

"Exactly." Beth's face fell, just enough for me to notice. She turned away and looked down at her magazine but didn't turn the page. Because she wasn't reading or looking, she was hurt. Somehow me insulting her had turned into me hurting her, and I hated hurting people, especially ones who didn't deserve it.

"Look," I closed her magazine and whispered in her hear, "I'm not saying you couldn't be one if you wanted to be. You're sexy, alright? I'm not asking because I'm trying to insult you, and I'm not trying to be a complete asshole. I just need to know about your past. If you have any dirty secrets, if you as much as sneezed on your high school teacher and accidently fell over and exposed your pink underwear to a punk in your class and got a detention for sexual harassment. I need to know these things. Because they won't just attack me, they'll attack you too."

Beth's lower lip trembled.

I was fascinated. I hadn't ever been a lip guy. I was more of a full package type of man. But her lips looked like soft pillows, and I hated myself that I couldn't remember the sensation of my tongue parting them last night.

"Well, no worries on that end, Jace." Beth's voice shook a bit. "In high school my nickname was Boring Beth. I had exactly three friends, including the lab rat that I had to train for my AP psychology class and was a pity date for my senior prom. So, sexual harassment? Prostitution? Selling my body or my wares or whatever you call it? Nothing. Not even a freaking parking ticket. Or a speeding ticket for that matter."

What? How was that even possible? She was freaking gorgeous, and even in high school I'd been intimidated.

I shifted uncomfortably and tried to open my mouth to speak, but she kept talking. Was she talking about the same girl I danced with all those years ago?

"In college I made out with two guys. One was a McDonalds' employee. He smelled like fries. I hate fries."

Mental note: She hates fries. Who the hell hates fries?

"The other had a preference for garlic. He said it kept the vampires away. As you can see, I only dated nerds because, news flash, I am a nerd. I'm a chemist. I like safe. I like white walls. I drink wine and watch Netflix on the weekends, and I already have my eye on two cats to at the shelter. I may as well settle into spinsterhood early. Now can we please stop having this discussion? It was embarrassing enough waking up without no memory of my first time with a guy let alone…"

I tried not to react. My loud inhale mixed with a gasp probably didn't do well to shield my shock.

"Just forget it." Beth opened the magazine.