27 Dates_The Dare Date Page 2

  “Not if you like sushi.”

  She cast him a look, evidently to gauge his reaction. “Never had it,” he admitted.

  “Really?” she asked, clearly surprised.

  “I’ve had dates who loved it,” he said, “but I’ve managed to avoid it.”

  “Do you not like fish?” she asked, a trace of nervousness seeping into her voice.

  “I like fish,” he said, “but raw seafood has never sounded appealing. But I’m game to try it with you.”

  “Good,” she said, her confidence returning. “I’m glad I get to be your guide.”

  “Be gentle,” he said.

  She laughed and turned onto the highway that took them downtown. For a moment there was silence in the car, the strangeness of the quiet causing Reed to sneak a look. The usual lightness to Kate’s expression was absent. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but she launched into an explanation of the types of food they would encounter at dinner.

  “We’re going to try a variety of sushi,” she said. “And before you ask, I’ve only had it a few times, so I’m going to be eating things I’ve never tried before.”

  “You’ve shown quite the sense of adventure,” he said. “But I didn’t realize it extended to food.”

  She smiled. “This is our ten-week anniversary of not-dating,” she said. “I figured a truth or dare game would help us dive a little deeper.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked on impulse.

  “Fine,” she said, not quite convincingly.

  Resolving to be patient, he asked, “Tell me more about what we’re going to be eating. Is it really raw?”

  She pointed to a folder against his seat. “I took the liberty of printing off a list for us to look at. It’s quite detailed, so it will help us decide what we want to try.”

  He scanned the list, uncertain if any of it sounded appetizing. Some contained eel, crab, shrimp, or tuna. Other names were unfamiliar, such as sashimi, nigiri, and maki. When he got to the bottom he looked up to find Kate smiling at him.

  “Ready for the first dare?”

  “Can I say no?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “Then let’s do this,” he said.

  They exited the car and stepped to the shop. Upon entry, a waitress took them to a corner table. Apparently their arrival was anticipated, because the girl already knew they didn’t have much experience with sushi. After describing several dishes, she left to get their drinks.

  He leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “You already knew I’ve never had sushi.”

  Her smile was wicked. “You talked to my mother. I talked to yours.”

  “I’m guessing Jackson gave you her number?”

  “Of course,” Kate said.

  Reed laughed in chagrin. “I honestly don’t know which I like more, having all the power when it’s my turn to ask, or the surprise when it’s your turn. You saw that your invite made the school paper?”

  She flushed. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “It’s one of the cleverest invitations I’ve seen,” he said. “You deserve praise for it.”

  “I’ll have to be more subtle in the future,” she said, and then her brow knit together. “Wait, you said the cleverest you’ve seen. Do others do this creative dating?”

  “You’ve caught me.” He smiled and lowered his tone. “I belong to a secret society called the Creative Daters. It’s kind of like the mob, except we have less secret beatings and death.”

  “The mob?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Of course,” he said. “We should have inducted you earlier, but I’ve been busy.”

  “Is there a ceremony or something?”

  “In our secret sanctum,” he replied.

  “What else do you do there?” she asked.

  “We plan our attacks,” he said it like it was obvious. “We’re sworn enemies of the Haters.”

  “I think Taylor Swift sang about them,” she said, her lips twitching with amusement.

  “She’s one of us,” he said. “Most of her songs are secret messages for the Daters.”

  She couldn’t hold it in anymore and began to laugh. “Seriously, are there others that do this?”

  “I’ve told you about my master’s thesis,” he said. “I’ve had a few friends start creative dating.”

  “And?”

  He smiled. “All three are now married. One has a kid. He was actually the one to suggest I study it for my thesis.”

  Their food came to the table, interrupting their conversation. Kate had ordered a platter with a variety of sushi and he examined them at a distance, trying to identify them by color. Then he remembered the paper Kate had prepared and laid it next to the platter.

  For the next several minutes they identified what was on the platter, as well as what was apparently called wasabi, about which Kate provided a word of warning. Taking a pink Maki roll and dipping it into the wasabi, he took an experimental bite.

  The spice hit him first, followed by the strange taste and texture of the fish. He grimaced. She laughed and chose her own, which she identified as a California Roll. Avoiding the wasabi, she took a bite.

  “It wasn’t bad,” Reed said, swallowing.

  “Liar,” she said, and then pointed to her selection. “This is good.”

  He took the second California Roll and added just a touch of wasabi. This time it was better and he nodded in approval. Once he got past the texture the taste wasn’t too bad. She smiled at his expression and chose one identified as Nigiri.

  “At the same time?” she asked.

  “Is that a dare?”

  Her smile became challenging. “Of course.”

  He grinned and picked up the second one. Foregoing the wasabi, he ate it by itself. They grimaced in unison, and both tried not to laugh. After drinking some water to banish the taste, they proceeded to try the other types on the plate, progressing to those that looked more exotic.

  Not in a rush, they laughed at each other’s responses and sampled their way through the platter. Partway through the meal he dared her to use chopsticks, resulting in several bites of sushi ending up on the table.

  “Ready for the second course?” she asked as they finished the last on the platter.

  “There’s more?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “That was the normal types. Now it gets interesting.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked cautiously.

  His question was answered when the waitress returned with a second, smaller platter. He consulted the list and found them. His expression turned incredulous as he read the names and descriptions.

  “Octopus? Eel?”

  She grinned. “I’ve never tried them either.”

  “But you’re making me try them?”

  “That’s the game,” she said. “Are you giving up?”

  “I’d rather choose a truth,” he said, poking the octopus with his chopstick.

  “That comes later,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “Didn’t I say?” she asked. “The dares come first. Then the truth.”

  Her tone was amused, but there was a flicker of seriousness in her gaze, as if she had an ulterior motive. He wondered if it had anything to do with what was bothering her and decided that perhaps the game would allow him to learn.

  Shaking his head, he picked up the eel. “Unakyu is cooked, at least,” he said.

  She took the second one off the platter and balanced it on her chopsticks. “Ready?”

  “No.”

  She laughed. “Three, two, one . . .”

  He put it into his mouth but she dropped hers, causing him to stab an accusing finger at her. She managed to catch it and eat, and then noticed his expression. An instant later hers became the same.

  “What have you done to me?” he spoke through a mouthful of food.

  She shrugged sheepishly and reached for her water. She swallowed and then said, “It was worth it to see your face.”

  He grinned, but be
hind his smile he watched her eyes, wondering about the truth to come.

  Chapter 4

  “Is a hamburger out of the question?” he asked.

  They’d just finished the sushi, or more accurately, he’d taken a nibble of each of the more exotic ones on the plate. Most of it remained but he couldn’t bring himself to eat any more. He felt a little queasy, although some of the sushi had been delicious.

  “You look a little green,” she said.

  “That’s the wasabi.”

  She laughed. “Some of it was good.”

  “Well put,” he said.

  “The octopus?”

  Reed shook his head. “On the plus side, the taste has cemented the moment into memory, so I will always remember you.”

  “Along with the taste of fish,” she said.

  “You were already unforgettable,” he said. “You didn’t need octopus to get you there.”

  “A girl has to hedge her bets,” she said.

  “Not one like you.”

  He said it with amusement, but her return smile was brief and she focused her attention on the check. She seemed to linger on the check as if wanting to regain her composure. As they walked outside he stole a look. He’d all but forgotten her previous quiet but now realized that whatever was weighing on her mind, the sushi dinner had failed to alleviate the burden.

  “Ready for the activity?” she asked.

  “Anything but fish,” he said fervently.

  “How about eggs?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Dates are supposed to be fun,” he said.

  “It will be,” she said. “You won’t be eating these eggs.”

  He raised an eyebrow but she merely laughed and opened his door. Once they were in the car, she left downtown and headed back to campus. He tried to imagine what exactly they’d be doing with eggs but could not picture anything good. Still, her smile of anticipation was reason enough to think it would be.

  She drove them to her house and parked in the driveway. As they walked to the front he recalled Hogwarts and wondered if he would ever meet a girl so inventive. Seeming to think the same thoughts, she sighed in regret.

  “We left the starry night up for a week,” she said. “And two of my roommates planned their own dates around it.”

  “Ember?” he asked.

  “And Brittney,” she said. “Before your date, they used the Harry Potter decorations as well. Marta claimed that bringing a man into the wizarding world of our house would sully the décor.”

  “She didn’t find a date.”

  Kate laughed, the tone indicating he’d guessed right. “She didn’t get a date,” she confirmed. “But it wasn’t all her fault. She had to work most nights because one of her cousins was sick.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said as they stepped into the house. “What do your roommates think of all this . . .?”

  He came to a stop as he realized that much of the room was covered in sheets of plastic. The material covered the couches and even the walls. Only two chairs faced each other at the center of the room.

  “Do our eggs come with a side of murder?” he asked.

  She grinned and gestured for him to take a seat. A small table sat between them. From the fridge, she retrieved four cartons of eggs, which she placed on the table between them. After opening them both, she brought out haircutting aprons and tied one around his neck. Then she donned her own and sat down, making the plastic crinkle.

  “No knives or guns?”

  “Half the eggs are raw,” she said, “so I anticipate quite a mess.”

  She placed a set of cards between the two cartons of eggs. “You draw a card and have a choice,” she said. “You can either answer, or take an egg.”

  “To the face?”

  “No,” she said with a laugh. “You’ll crush it on top of your head.”

  “Where’d you get the cards?”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “My roommates removed the cards they deemed too risqué.”

  “Why?” he asked. “It would have been fun.”

  She snorted in disagreement. “All of your answers would have been no, so it would have given you an advantage.”

  “I could have learned interesting things about you,” he pointed out.

  She flushed. “Not things I want you to know.”

  He grinned, and then caught what she’d said earlier. “Wait, you haven’t seen the cards?”

  “I didn’t want to give myself a chance to prepare answers,” she said, “and if I’d read the questions, I would already know what to expect. A game of truth can’t be real if you already know the answers.”

  “I’m impressed,” he said, and meant it. “I would have looked.”

  “I would have as well,” she said. “But Ember insisted. She keeps trying to take over my dates, you know.” Then Kate gestured to the cards in invitation.

  “Shouldn’t the lady go first?” he asked.

  “I asked you,” she said, her lips twitching. “So that means you go first.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, so he picked up a card and read aloud. “What’s your greatest fear?”

  She looked at him expectantly as he considered the question. Although there were several things he was afraid of, a few were not worth admitting. But the demands of the game compelled him to answer.

  “I guess I would say losing my sister,” he said.

  “I expected spiders or something,” she said.

  “My sister is amazing, but she wants to be a traveling doctor,” Reed said. “And I’m afraid that if she goes to Africa or South America I’ll never see her again.”

  “She’s not afraid?”

  Reed shook his head. “She’s fearless, and has even talked about going to Afghanistan or Turkey to help with the refugees.”

  “She sounds brave,” Kate said.

  “She’s brave bottled into a tiny girl,” Reed said. “But I believe I answered your question. Your turn.”

  She picked it up and read it to herself. She did not share the card but her expression betrayed her hesitation. Her eyes flicked to Reed and then the eggs, revealing her desire to avoid telling the truth.

  “I’ll take an egg,” she said.

  “How bad can it be?” he asked. “And I read my question out loud.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said.

  “Changing the rule in the middle?” he protested. “I call foul.”

  She relented with a sigh and read the card. “What’s a rumor you intentionally participated in?”

  “Is it bad?”

  “Very,” Kate admitted. “Let’s just say I was different in middle school.”

  She picked up an egg and steeled herself, and then crushed it on her head. The shell shattered and hard-boiled egg crumbled into her hair. She sighed in relief and brushed it off as Reed laughed.

  “I think I like the egg more than the truth.”

  “Your turn,” she said.

  He drew the next card and read, “What is the thing you are most ashamed of?”

  “This ought to be good.”

  “I’m going to take an egg,” he said with a laugh.

  “How bad could it be?”

  “Bad enough I’m going to take my chances with an egg,” he said with a smile.

  He chose one from the other carton and tried to gauge its weight. When it was clear the effort was futile, he held it above his head and prepared himself. Then he crushed it on his head, sending raw egg exploding into his hair.

  His cry of dismay was only matched by Kate’s delight. Groaning, he sought to clean the disgusting muck from his hair. A bit of yolk ran down his cheek and he scraped it off and flicked it at her.

  “This is disgustingly fun,” he said.

  “Not for the one watching it,” she said, and then smirked. “For me it was just fun.”

  She reached down and drew the next card, which proved to be a question about regret. As they worked their way through the cards they both answered
some, and both ended up decorated with egg.

  Initially, Kate did far better. Then she took three eggs in a row, the last of which burst so wide that it splattered Reed. He laughed and tried to ward off the spray but she spun her head, sending more his way.

  “You’ve got more hair to do that,” he protested, trying to block the sprays of egg and shell.

  “A smart girl uses her hair as a weapon,” she said, her attempts at cleaning her hair succeeding only in spreading the mess.

  “She does at that,” he said. “But I don’t think hair is usually colored with egg.”

  “True,” she allowed.

  He picked up a card. “Were you ever in love?”

  “What a great question,” she said.

  “How would you answer it?” he asked.

  “Not my card,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, Jason was the only one I’ve been in love with, so it would have been an easy answer.”

  He hesitated, sensing a weight to the question that went beyond the game. To take an egg would be an obvious attempt to hide the truth, and doing so would make her distrust him. Realizing he had no choice, he nodded.

  “Once,” he said. “But I already told you about Aura.”

  Chapter 5

  “You’ve mentioned her before,” Kate said. “But I didn’t realize you loved her.”

  “We went on a grand total of one date,” he said. “And it didn’t last long. She never knew how strongly I felt.”

  “You did go on a date, though.”

  “If you can call it that,” he replied. “I convinced her to have dinner with me but she was still dating Tim. As I said before, the start of their relationship proved the end of ours.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell her what you felt?”

  “I started to,” he said. “But when I tried, she told me to stop. She said she didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

  “Attraction has a way of ruining friendships,” she said in agreement.

  “I really thought we were fated for each other,” he said, and then smiled wryly. “But I was young, so how could I really know?”

  “How long did you feel that way?”

  “Three years,” he said.

  “Not a crush,” Kate said. “Those never last long.”

  He shrugged and glanced down at the forgotten eggs. It felt odd to talk about Aura with Kate, and he wanted to tell her everything—and end the conversation as quickly as possible. As if sensing the concern behind the loss, she gestured to the cards.