Page 8 of A Kiss on a Dare
As Cat and Gabrielle laugh together, trying to guess what’s in the shots they just downed, I mull over my options.
I could refuse the dare, but that means facing the final dare, which Cat can make as outrageous as her devious little mind can imagine. And worse, I wouldn’t be able to skip it.
Ugh.What’s the lesser evil here?
I glance between Cat and Gabrielle, weighing my options. But then I notice the way they’re laughing together and how at ease Gabrielle seems with her. It hits me like a bucket of ice water:He must be interested in Cat.I’ve never seen him act like this with any other woman at the hospital. He must really like her.
For the sake of the dare, I could still go through with it—just tell him I’m gay and get it over with. But suddenly, the idea feels heavier, sharper, more personal. Vulnerability washes over me, and a knot forms in my chest.
I don’t want Gabrielle to know I’m gay if he’s straight. Not like this. It would only make me feel more exposed—morepathetic.Like some pining fool who thought for a second, he had a chance. And that’s the last thing I need.
I quickly type back to Cat:
No way. I’ll take the wish on that one.
Cat’s phone, sitting on the table, lights up. She stealthily picks it up, not missing a beat in her conversation with Gabrielle. For someone as drunk as she is, she manages to type her response surprisingly discreetly:
CHICKEN!!!! Fine. You owe me one wish then.
I exhale shakily. That, I can handle. Although I already know I’ll regret it when Cat cashes in her wish to drag me to her favorite bar—Bikers & Lumberjacks. A place where she picks up hairy men, and I awkwardly play wingman while avoiding eye contact with the burly clientele.
The music in the basement suddenly cranks up so loud it feels like the walls are vibrating. I turn to see who’s messing with the volume and spot one of the resident doctors crouched in front of the sound system.
The music is deafening, and I’m still looking over my shoulder when I feel Gabrielle lean in. I turn back abruptly, and for a moment, we’re so close our faces are practically inches apart. The sudden proximity steals the air from my lungs, and my heart skips a beat.
“I’ll go grab some more drinks,” he says, leaning to speak directly into my ear, his voice carrying over the blaring music. His hand hovers lightly against my elbow as he asks, “Want me to grab you something?”
I’m too taken aback by his closeness, by the casual touch that sets my skin tingling, to form a coherent response. I just shake my head, and Gabrielle nods before disappearing into the crowd.
I watch him cross the room, my gaze lingering longer than I want to admit. My head feels dizzy, my pulse erratic, and I realize I suddenly feel very, very drunk—even though I haven’t had anything to drink in at least fifteen minutes.
As soon as Gabrielle is out of earshot, Cat leans across the table, her voice cutting through the thrum of music as she practically shouts in my ear, “Okay, Sunshine, I’ve got the last dare for you.”
“Shoot,” I say, bracing myself for the inevitable disaster.
“Last dare:kiss Gabrielle.”
I blink, my heart leaping into a freefall. For a moment, it’s like the ground beneath me has vanished entirely.
“Cat,” I say, attempting to summon the most serious tone I can muster, “I can’t kiss him.”
Cat laughs, completely unfazed, and squeezes my hand. “What’s the big deal? You can give him a peck on the cheek or something. That would count, too.”
“We’re not Europeans,” I reply, frustration bubbling in my chest. “That would be extremely weird.”
Cat sighs, but she’s clearly too drunk to put up much of a fight. “Fine,” she says, waving it off like it’s no big deal.
“Are you going to give me another dare?” I ask, praying the answer is no.
“Nah,” she says, shaking her head. “I think I’m waaay too drunk. I probably need to get some sleep.”
Relief washes over me, but there’s a small part of me that feels bad for deciding to give up. Kissing Gabrielle—even something as innocent as a peck on the cheek—would probably feel amazing. And let’s face it, I’m so drunk I could easily blame it on the alcohol and avoid feeling bad about it tomorrow.
Wait…am I seriously considering this?
I stop myself before my thoughts spiral any further. I glance at Cat, and it’s clear she’s barely holding on—her eyes drooping, her movements sluggish. Time to call it a night.
I stand up and help her to her feet, steadying her by the elbow. “Let’s go,” I tell her gently. “Time to sleep, Callahan.”
