°°

I've never backed down from a dare.

That's probably why Sarah's staring at me with that mischievous glint in her eyes—the same look she gets right before suggesting something that'll either be really smart or completely dumb and disastrous.

The bass from whatever pop song is playing makes the floor vibrate under my crossed legs, and the circle of people around me watches with  unmatched interest as Sarah taps her chin, considering her options.

It's like she knows she's about to propose something that'll challenge my reputation, and she's savoring every second.

"Truth or dare, Naomi?" She doesn't even need to ask. We both know the answer.

Everyone here does.

"Dare," I say, tossing my purple and gold braids over my shoulder. "Obviously."

The party seems to have a life of it's own around us—people are dancing, with cups being filled and refilled with various sodas and punch. There's laughter echoing off the walls of Sarah's living room.

Her parents are out of town for the weekend, which means the house has transformed into a teenage paradise for the night.

The air smells like pizza, cheap perfume, and the vanilla candles Sarah's mom always burns.

"Okay," Sarah says, leaning forward. Her brown curls bounce as she grins, that signature troublemaker smile. "I dare you to date someone--" Easy. "Like, for real. Three months minimum."

Not easy.

A few people in our circle burst into laughter, the sound cutting through the music. Meg, sitting next to me, elbows me in the ribs, grinning ear to ear. "Oooh, commitment. Naomi's kryptonite."

"Hey!" I protest, though I'm laughing too, unable to resist the moment.

It's not exactly a secret that my longest relationship lasted exactly three weeks.

I mean, can you blame me? It's not my fault I get bored easily, or that most guys at our school have the emotional depth of a kiddie pool.

"I'm serious," Sarah presses on, raising her voice to be heard over the thumping beat. "No casual stuff. No 'we're talking but not exclusive' nonsense. A real relationship. Three whole months of actually trying to be with someone."

I roll my eyes, leaning back on my hands. "That's it? Just date someone for three months? Please, that’s easy."

I'm bluffing. That shit is hard.

"Not just date," Sarah says, holding up a finger as if she's a teacher lecturing me. "You have to actually try. Like, real dates. Getting to know them. Meeting their friends. The whole nine yards."

I snort. Why is she torturing me like this?

"And how exactly are you going to measure if I'm 'actually trying'?" I make exaggerated air quotes with my fingers, knowing that if there's any loophole, I'll find it.

"Oh, we'll know," Meg chimes in before Sarah can respond. "Trust me, we'll know if you're faking it."

The circle has definitely gotten more invested now, the air around us heavy with anticipation. Even Ethan—who I briefly dated last summer: okay, fine, for four days, but still, —is watching with particular interest.

I pretend not to notice him, but the memory of how that 'relationship' ended creeps into my mind. He wanted to talk about feelings; I wanted to play mini golf and move on.

"Fine," I say, sitting up straighter, feeling the need to take charge of the situation. "Challenge accepted. Three months of actual dating. But I get to choose who."

"Of course," Sarah agrees, but her smile tells me she's got one more trick up her little, dirty sleeve. "But you have to start looking immediately. As in, this weekend. No putting it off until summer break or something. Come Monday, you need to be in a relationship."

The music changes to something slower, and a few people from our circle drift away to dance. For a moment, I think Sarah might let it slide, but then she adds one more condition with a wicked grin:

"And you can't break up with them unless you have a legitimate reason. Getting bored doesn’t count."

"That's like, three different dares wrapped into one!" I whine.

But my brain's already ticking through potential candidates. Maybe Alex from my chemistry class? He's cute, kind of nerdy, and actually reads books for fun—which, let’s be real, already puts him ahead of half the guys at our school.

"Are you backing down from a dare, Naomi Hayes?" Sarah asks, eyebrows raised high in mock surprise. "That would be a first."

She's got me there, and she knows it. I've never backed down from a dare—not since fifth grade, when Peter Egan dared me to kiss a worm and I did it without hesitation. Disgusting, by the way, but totally worth it for the look on his face.

"Fine," I say, holding out my hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. "Deal. Three months, real relationship, starting this weekend."

Sarah shakes my hand with exaggerated formality, and several people around us cheer. I catch a glimpse of Ethan watching from across the room, his dark eyes meeting mine for a split second before he looks away.

Interesting.

I file that observation away for later, adding it to the mental list of options forming in my head. Getting back with Ethan could be so freaking easy, but keeping him for three months straight is the issue.

"Your turn," Sarah says, leaning back against the couch, her grin still firmly in place. "Choose your victim."

I scan the circle, trying to decide who to target next for truth or dare, but my mind is already racing ahead.

Three months isn't that long, really.

Twelve weeks.

I can do anything for twelve weeks. Besides, maybe it'll be good for me. That's what Mom's always saying, anyway—that I need to learn to stick with things, to give people a chance instead of writing them off at the first sign of imperfection.

"Meg," I say finally, turning to my right with a smirk. "Truth or dare?"

But even as Meg thinks about her choice, I'm making mental lists.

Who’s single? Who's interesting enough to hold my attention for three months? Who won't drive me completely insane after week two?

These are the real questions, and I need answers fast.

The party continues. The music changes again, vibrating through the floor like a heartbeat, and I catch Sarah watching me with satisfaction.

She really thinks she’s given me an impossible dare—that this will finally be the challenge that breaks my perfect record. But what she doesn’t realize is that I’m already treating it like the game it is—and I never lose.

Three months. One relationship. How hard can it be?

Looking back, I really should have known better than to ask that question, even just in my head. Because the universe has a funny way of answering questions like that, and usually, you don’t like the answer.

But for now, I’m just another teenager at a party, riding high on punch and music.

Meg chooses truth which is boring, but expected, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m already plotting my strategy.

Three months?

Game on.

+++

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