The Dare That Cost Him Everything

“Kiss him! Tongue and everything!” The raucous chanting nearly blew the roof off the VIP booth. The new transfer student had just lost a highstakes round of Truth or Dare.

Her penalty? Pick a guy in the room and date him for an entire year. Without missing a single beat, she pointed straight at my childhood best friend, Roman.

Roman slouched back into the leather cushions, crossing his ankle over his knee. "Sure, why not," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's just a game." The rest of the room leaned in, practically salivating for a frontrow seat to a hot hookup.

I didn't make a sound. I just dropped my gaze to the glowing screen of my phone, thumbing open a new text message: [Got straight As on my Ivy League prep exams.

I'm about to walk onto the same elite campus as you, Peanut. You better be ready to make good on that promise.] Chapter 1 Make good on that promise?

My jaw locked so hard my teeth ached. "Peanut" was a humiliating pet name from my grandmother's house, something that should have stayed buried in my childhood.

He was the only one arrogant enough to still use it just to get under my skin. I jammed my thumb against the power button, plunging the screen into darkness.

When I finally looked back up, Savannah was already straddling Roman's lap. Her arms were wrapped tight around his neck, and his hands were gripping her waist.

They were swallowing each other whole, making out with the practiced ease of two people who had done this a hundred times before. The air rushed out of my lungs.

The bass vibrating through the VIP booth faded into a deafening, underwater ringing. My fingertips turned to ice.

A phantom grip seized my ribs, squeezing until I couldn't pull in a single breath.

Just weeks ago, right before senior year started, we had been sitting at the very top of the Ferris wheel.

His fingers had been laced tightly through mine. "Sloane, you know I've always been crazy about you," he had whispered, his eyes locked on mine. "On my eighteenth birthday, be my girlfriend.

Say yes." His birthday was at the end of the semester. I had spent every single day since that Ferris wheel ride counting down the hours. Until Savannah transferred in.

Then, that anticipation mutated into a slow, agonizing bleed, draining out of me drop by drop.

Savannah was striking—unapologetically bold, carrying this untouchable, mature aura that made the rest of us look like clueless kids.

Everyone was obsessed with the mystery of why a girl from Manhattan had suddenly relocated to our zip code.

When she had stood at the front of our homeroom on her first day, Roman hadn't blinked. His eyes were glazed over, hooked instantly.

I had felt the shift in the tectonic plates right then. It had only been a month, but they were practically inseparable.

Roman was the kind of trust—fund kid who never lifted a finger for himself—he always had an entourage jumping at his commands.

But the moment Savannah made a casual complaint, he tossed her the keys to his limited—edition Porsche without a second thought—completely ignoring the fact that I was left standing alone in the pouring rain, waiting for the ride he had promised me.

Her Instagram stories popped up on my feed like daily taunts.

It was always a picture of Roman carrying her shopping bags, or a boomerang of him chauffeuring her around the most exclusive spots in town. The joke of it all?

Whenever it was Roman's turn to help with any actual work at school, he'd just sit there playing on his phone like he owned the place. Then came the storm last week.

Savannah had bad cramps, so Roman had his private driver pull the Escalade right up to the curb for her. There was a completely empty seat in the back.

He shut the heavy door without even glancing in my direction. Now, watching them swallow each other in the center of the VIP booth, the glass finally shattered.

A sharp buzz against my palm yanked me out of the vacuum. I forced my heavy neck downward. [Earth to Peanut!

Earth to Peanut!] When I didn't type back fast enough, the screen flipped to an incoming FaceTime call. Roman and Savannah finally broke apart.

The booth erupted. "Holy shit, get a room!

You guys are fucking wild!" "Damn it, if I knew losing meant a guaranteed hookup, I wouldn't have picked that stupid karaoke dare." "Savannah doesn't play around!

A whole year of dating for a dare? That's iconic." Someone in the back suddenly whistled, cutting through the cheers. "Hold up, though.

Roman's glued to Sloane's hip twenty—four—seven. How are we supposed to know if you two are actually dating?" Chapter 2 "Start a group chat! They have to check in every day.

Dates, hookups, everything goes in the chat!" My phone was vibrating off the hook. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out, leaving the suffocating noise behind.

Through the crack in the door, I caught the awkward murmurs trailing after me. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen her crack. Is she actually jealous?" "Wouldn't you be?

Her childhood best friend is dating someone else, and it's not her. She's definitely off to cry in a bathroom stall." Savannah's voice drifted over, feigning innocence. "No way.

It's just a game. Is she really that fragile?" Roman laughed, the sound easy and careless. "Sloane's not petty. If she's actually mad, I'll just talk her down.

It's fine." Another wave of hoots and catcalls erupted. I stepped out of the club into the cool night air and finally answered the call.

A deep, lazy voice drifted through the speaker. "Peanut." The crushing weight in my chest vanished, instantly replaced by the overwhelming urge to punch a wall.

I clenched my jaw. "Cletus, use that name one more time and you're getting blocked." He let out a low chuckle. "My bad. Don't block me, Sloane. You see my score?

We've still got almost a year. I'm definitely pulling my numbers up. Can you just tell me which school you're aiming for already?" I mentally calculated my current GPA.

Since it wasn't a locked—in guarantee yet, I kept him in suspense. "Get back to me when you pull a straight—A report card next semester." The playfulness drained from his voice, leaving a raw edge of determination. "I can do that.

Just watch me. What are you doing right now?" I glanced back down the dim hallway of the club. "Playing a dating game." Dead silence fell over the line.

For a second, I thought the call dropped, until his voice returned, a slow, cynical drawl. "Tch. Dating is dating, and games are games.

What the hell is a dating game?" My lips pulled into a tight, humorless line. That was exactly how they played it. Right on cue, Roman walked out of the VIP room. "Roman's here.

Gotta go," I muttered, hanging up. Roman's lips were flushed and slick, the bottom one visibly split. His posture was loose, the satisfied smirk on his face impossible to miss.

He stopped in front of me, reaching out to ruffle my hair, leaning in and tilting his head to catch my eye. "You upset?" He didn't give me a chance to answer. "It was just a dare.

She called me out in front of everyone. I couldn't exactly back down. Real men don't back down.

Otherwise, how would I be good enough for my Sloane, right?" He stepped closer. "Don't stress. The plan hasn't changed. On my birthday, you're officially mine.

We'll head off to college together, travel the world. Just like we said." I swatted his hand away. Before I could speak, a smooth, sugary voice cut through the air. "Roman?

What are you doing?" Savannah strolled out, slotting herself perfectly next to Roman.

She looped her arms around his bicep, pressing herself flush against him, flashing me a dazzling, razor—sharp smile. "Sloane. I lost the dare, so I'm borrowing your boy for a year.

You don't mind, do you?" Just yesterday, he was teasing me at the basketball court with an iced latte, saying, Call me yours, and I'll let you have a sip.

I stared at them, my face entirely blank. "Not at all." Getting worked up over a guy who rolled over like a dog the second someone snapped their fingers? That was beneath me.

Savannah's smile widened. "We're heading out for our first official date." Roman couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He looked at me, playing the victim. "They're forcing us to log everything in the group chat. Rules are rules. I already told the driver to pull up for you.

Text me when you're home." He patted my head again like a stray pet. "Be a good girl. Don't mention this to my parents." And with that, he let her pull him away down the hall.

Chapter 3 Holden's messages popped up on my screen: [I have a secret.] [I'll tell you to your face right after graduation.] Roman spent the entire weekend disappearing before sunrise and dragging himself back in the dead of night.

He threw me a careless excuse on his way up the stairs: "We just hung out and talked.

Had to log it for the group chat." Sunday evening, Roman's mother returned from her business trip and summoned me to the dining room.

Her face was an icy, unreadable mask. "Roman has barely been home lately, and his GPA is slipping," she stated, her voice chilling the air. "Have you stopped keeping him in line?" My spine snapped straight against the dining chair.

I forced the words out past the tight knot in my throat. "The last round of AP exams was notoriously brutal." She set her silverware down with a sharp clink, methodically dabbing the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin.

She didn't even bother looking up at me. "You've done exceptionally well these past few years. He listens to you.

He stays out of trouble, and his grades hover at an acceptable average. I've always appreciated your usefulness. But lately, he seems to be slipping off the leash.

If you've lost the ability to manage him, then I have no reason to keep funding you." I was his designated babysitter. He was the only one who didn't know it.

I used to go to school a state over, living with my grandmother, only coming back to this affluent zip code during summer and winter breaks to stay with my parents.

But Roman was obsessed with me.

The second I stepped out of the car, he was glued to my side. "Sloane, let's go to the boardwalk." "Sloane, I'm doing my homework at your house." When breaks ended and I had to leave, he would throw massive fits. "Mom, I want to transfer to Sloane's school.

I don't want her to leave." His mother ignored the tantrums.

Until sixth grade, when Roman completely ditched school, stole a credit card, and bought a bus ticket across state lines just to find me.

Our parents laughed it off as childhood puppy love, joking about us getting married the second we got our college degrees.

But that same year, the manufacturing plant my dad owned caught fire. My parents stayed behind to evacuate the floor workers. They didn't make it out.

The shock put my grandmother in the ground not long after. The vultures descended immediately.

Extended family members I barely knew suddenly bared their teeth, fighting a vicious legal war over the remaining company shares.

They stripped the estate down to the copper wiring, taking every single asset worth a dime. Roman's mother stepped in.

She hired cutthroat corporate lawyers to secure the last remaining property my parents owned—a house right next door to her own estate.

I became an orphan sitting on an empty piece of real estate I couldn't afford to maintain. She handed over a strict guardianship and financial sponsorship agreement.

Just like that, I became the out—of—place charity case in this lavish mansion, an accessory always needed to clean up her son's messes.

To the rest of the elite prep school crowd, I was just Roman's pathetic shadow. Those first few years without my parents were a living hell.

Roman was the one who pulled me through the wreckage. I owed him my sanity, and yeah, I fell for him. But standing here now, all that was left was a hollow sense of obligation.

I just needed to drag him across the graduation stage. Later that night, Roman sauntered into my room, tossing a boba tea onto my desk.

I didn't reach for it. "Your mom asked why your grades are tanking." He raised an eyebrow, leaning his hip against the doorframe. "You didn't rat me out, did you?" "No," I replied flatly. "I told her we're doing intensive tutoring sessions." He scoffed. "I don't have time for that.

I've got daily dates to log for the chat. Oh, and starting tomorrow, I'm driving Savannah to and from school. Take your bike.

Try not to get hit." The second his footsteps faded down the hall, my screen lit up with a text from Savannah. It was a photo.

A high—def shot of them kissing, their lips just pulling apart, a literal string of saliva connecting them. [Hey locker buddy! I'm training your boy for you.

You can thank me later!] Deep in my chest, a high—tension wire snapped. I waited for the crushing wave of pain. It never came.

Instead, an unfamiliar, icy hollow settled into my ribs. Surprisingly… I felt light. Chapter 4 The next morning, the second I dropped my backpack at my desk, my phone buzzed.

Savannah had dragged me into a new group chat. [Savannah: Hey locker buddy!

Didn't want you getting the wrong idea, so I added you to watch our daily check—ins. ?] [Savannah: Day 2: Roman woke me up with a call, personally drove me to school, and bought me my absolute favorite French pastries.] The rest of the chat immediately spammed replies: [Omg, I'm screaming.

You guys are the cutest.] [So romantic. I'm literally dying of jealousy.] [Wish a rich hot guy would play a dating game with me.] I took a bite of my cheap grocery—store muffin.

It reminded me of her second day here, when I brought her a warm, homemade muffin as a peace offering. She had practically tackled me in a hug, squealing about how sweet I was.

Ten minutes later, I walked into the girls' bathroom and saw her dropping that exact muffin into the sanitary bin. "Total trash," she had sneered to a friend. "Smells like cheap vanilla and poverty.

Makes me sick." A girl from homeroom walked past my desk and paused. "Sloane, are you trying to copy Savannah's bakery aesthetic now?" I had eaten the same cheap muffins and milk for breakfast every day since living with my grandmother.

Roman always stayed up late playing video games and dragged himself out of bed at the last possible second.

Our mornings were always a chaotic rush, leaving me to eat in the passenger seat on the way to school.

It made sense my classmates had never seen my daily routine. "No," I said flatly. But she was already walking away, not caring about the answer.

Just as the warning bell rang, Roman and Savannah finally strolled into homeroom.

Savannah dropped into her seat and intentionally slammed a cheap paper cup of black coffee onto my desk.

The dark liquid sloshed over the rim, splattering directly across my AP review notes. She flashed a fake, sugary smile. "Bought this for you.

I figured you couldn't afford anything from an actual café." I kept my face blank and calmly pushed the cup straight off the edge of my desk into the trash can.

I could feel her hostility radiating off her. It had been there since her very first day, the exact second she sat next to me and locked eyes with me.

Girls always have a sixth sense for that kind of thing. You read it in the micro—expressions, the slight, mocking curl of a lip. It was an unspoken, poisonous resentment.

My muffin back then had been a gesture of goodwill. Too bad the trash can ate it instead.

Savannah leaned back, practically glowing with satisfaction. "Don't pout," she chimed. "The game only lasts a year.

You're still his favorite pet." I flipped open my workbook and started running calculus equations. Who said I was pouting? The final bell shrilled through the hallways.

Savannah suddenly leaned into my personal space.

She dropped her voice to a mocking whisper, making sure only I could hear. "God, his tongue does amazing things in the backseat of that Porsche.

Wonder if you've ever gotten a taste?" I snapped my head toward her.

The second our eyes met, she instantly cranked up her volume, pitching her voice into a pathetic, victimized whine for the whole class to hear. "Sloane, please don't glare at me like that!

I know you're mad, but it's just a game! I'm just honoring a dare.

I didn't mean anything by it!" Instantly, the whispers slithered through the rows of desks like venom. "They're literally just childhood friends.

Why is she acting so possessive over a game?" "Right? Roman doesn't even belong to her.

She needs to back off." "Playing the innocent victim while clearly losing her mind out of jealousy." "Honestly, she acts more like the homewrecker here.

So shameless." I gripped my mechanical pencil until the plastic cracked under the pressure, my fingernails digging sharp half—moons into my palm.

This was exactly how her invisible hostility worked. If I opened my mouth to defend myself, I'd just look exactly like the crazy, jealous girl she painted me as.

Savannah twisted around in her seat, looking at Roman behind us. "What do you think, Roman?" Roman crossed his arms, his voice dripping with defensive irritation. "We're dating.

I want to date you. I'm not anyone's exclusive property." I tuned out the noise, forced my eyes back to my textbook, and kept studying.

Chapter 5 From that day on, I carved out a hard physical distance between Roman and myself. He responded by kicking me out of the group chat.

Every single week, right on schedule, Savannah spammed her Instagram grid with photo dumps of their dates. [He said this was a mandatory relationship milestone. ❤️] I buried myself in my textbooks and didn't waste a second of energy on her.

Mid—term GPA rankings were posted. I pulled a straight 4.0, taking the number one spot for the entire senior class, effortlessly locking in my Ivy League recommendation letters.

I had previously only hovered in the top ten. The administration was thrilled.

Meanwhile, Roman and Savannah were publicly warned by the principal that their failing GPAs and chronic absenteeism were jeopardizing their graduation eligibility.

The classmates who had been endlessly hyping their romance suddenly had nothing to say.

After homeroom, Roman wrapped his arm around a teary—eyed Savannah. "It's fine," he murmured. "We'll just make Sloane tutor us from now on." I inhaled a mouthful of water and nearly choked on it.

Whatever. If I drilled them on the material, it would double as review prep for myself. But right after the final bell rang, Savannah whined that she wasn't in the mood to study.

Roman immediately grabbed his keys and drove her into the city to "clear her head." I went straight home, pounded through three sets of practice exams, and felt utterly invincible.

During the all—school honors assembly, I stood at the podium as the valedictorian candidate, sharing my strategies for elite college admissions.

From the bleachers, Roman stared up at me, practically beaming with pride. I let my gaze sweep right over him and kept talking.

That night, Roman's mother came home to an empty house again. I was sitting at the dining table when my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Savannah—another picture of her and Roman making out at the very top of the Ferris wheel.

His mother was staring at the mid—term transcripts emailed by the guidance counselor.

Her voice trembled with raw fury. "Your results are completely polarized." She slammed her manicured hand onto the table. "The longer you stay here, the more reckless he becomes.

I'm transferring you out." A transfer meant uprooting everything. Returning to my grandmother's house would be emotionally easier, sure.

But the faculty here was miles ahead of the public school in my old town; my odds of getting into Columbia were exponentially higher if I stayed.

I refused to let her derail my momentum right before application season. Just then, the front door swung open. Roman walked in, pulling Savannah behind him by the hand.

He froze when he saw his mother. "We were out doing group study," he lied smoothly. "It got late, so I brought her back." His mother's cold eyes darted between me, Roman, and the stranger clinging to his arm.

Roman refused to meet my eyes. Savannah, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat. She flashed a flawless smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Sterling!

I'm so sorry, I hope I'm not intruding!" The second Mrs. Sterling realized Savannah was the wealthy transfer student from Manhattan, her entire demeanor shifted.

The ice thawed instantly. She offered a polite, strained smile. "High school is about socializing, of course.

But you all need to keep your focus on your applications." Roman jumped at the opening. "Don't worry, Mom.

Sloane is handling our tutoring sessions." Savannah nodded enthusiastically. "She's the best locker buddy ever!" It was a performance.

When we actually went out for these supposed "study sessions," Roman just made me tag along to maintain the facade.

I watched him wrap his arm tight around Savannah's waist while they played arcade games, casually wiping ice cream off the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

Savannah would duck her head, giggling, "You're so sweet to me." I just wanted to go home and finish my calculus problem sets.

After two hours of this garbage, Roman finally sighed. "Fine.

Let's hit the books." Savannah slapped on a fake smile, whipped out her phone, and snapped a picture of us sitting at a table in the boba shop with our notebooks open.

A month of this routine actually worked. By the time the next round of test scores came out, their grades had scraped past the failing mark.

But the whispers behind my back mutated into outright hostility. The glares I got in the hallways felt like physical blows.

I was washing my hands in a stall in the girls' bathroom when I heard them complaining loudly by the sinks. "It's been a whole month!

Every single date picture Savannah posts, Sloane is hovering in the background.

She's practically shoving her chest against Roman's arm to get in the frame." "Does she seriously not realize how pathetic she looks third—wheeling them?" "She walks around with that cold bitch face acting like an ice princess, but she's literally just a desperate stray dog following him around." "Savannah, how are you not ripping her hair out?" Chapter 6 Savannah laughed. "What right do I have to be mad?

They grew up together. They're practically family." The other girl scoffed. "If Roman didn't look at you like he wants to eat you alive, I might actually believe that.

You think it's a game, but he's dead serious. He's totally obsessed with you and doesn't even realize it yet. Sloane is just a shameless third wheel.

So pathetic." I pushed open the stall door. I walked straight to the sinks, ignoring them completely, and turned on the faucet. The trash talk died instantly.

During gym class, I sat in the bleachers watching the guys play pickup basketball. Nobody dared to sit within a ten—foot radius of me.

Savannah walked up the metal steps with an iced water and dropped down right next to me.

She watched the court for a minute before speaking. "Having a guy like that obsessed with you… must make you feel pretty untouchable, right? Filthy rich, gorgeous.

Everyone treats him like royalty, but he only ever had eyes for you. And now he's mine. He treats me like gold.

You must hate my guts." I didn't look at her. "I don't." And I didn't. At first, yeah, the whiplash had been jarring.

When someone makes you the center of their universe, catering to your every mood and constantly hovering by your side, it creates a blind dependency.

When he flipped the switch, it felt like missing a step in the dark. Savannah let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I am so sick of this ice—queen act. Who are you trying to fool?

I took him from you fair and square, but you walk around acting like you tossed him to me as a charity case. Are you really that arrogant?

You actually think a guy from his tax bracket needs you?" Unbelievable. My mere existence was a threat to her. I turned my head, locking eyes with her. "That's not what I think.

Don't project your insecurities onto me." Savannah didn't even listen. She stood up and marched down the bleachers. People like her only heard what they wanted to hear.

They painted you into whatever corner fit their narrative, and any attempt to defend yourself just looked like a guilty confession.

I wasn't going to bend over backwards to make her comfortable. I treated her like empty space, but she just kept stepping into mine.

After evening study hall, I was walking down the stairwell.

Savannah was right on my heels. "Sloane," she whined, her tone completely out of nowhere. "I'm not playing the game anymore. Can we just be friends now?

Please don't hate me." Then, her face twisted into a cold smirk. She lunged forward and snatched the worn notebook right out of my hand—the only keepsake Holden had ever given me.

Before I could even react, she ripped the pages down the middle and tossed the pieces over the railing. My blood spiked. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline shot through my veins.

I shoved her hard and cracked my palm directly across her cheek. "Don't touch my things." She stumbled backward, hitting the handrail before tumbling down the last half—dozen concrete stairs.

Suddenly, the heavy metal door at the top of the landing swung open. A crowd of guys poured into the stairwell, Roman pushing his way to the front.

He took the stairs two at a time, violently shoving my shoulder out of the way to reach Savannah.

He glared up at me, his jaw tight. "You're crossing the line, Sloane." Savannah buried her face in his chest, sobbing hysterically. "I'm so sorry, Roman." Roman pointed a finger at me. "Apologize to her.

Now." My fingernails dug into my palms.

I stared straight down at him. "She needs to apologize to me." "You never let up, do you?" Roman shot back. "I told her I was ending the game to make you happy, and she agreed immediately!

She tried to be your friend, and you treat her like trash." Half the varsity team was standing on the landing, watching the show.

I didn't want to broadcast to the entire school why that specific notebook meant so much to me—not with Roman looking for any excuse to mock me.

So I did something incredibly stupid. I pulled out my phone and texted him: [She tore up the notebook Holden gave me.] Roman read the screen.

His voice echoed loudly off the concrete walls. "She tore up a stupid notebook? And you hit her for that?

Why the hell didn't you just say so instead of acting like a psycho?" Chapter 7 A collective gasp echoed off the concrete walls.

Blood rushed to my face, scalding my skin, only to drain completely a second later, leaving me ice—cold. The stares boring into my back felt like physical needles, pinning me down.

My throat completely closed up. I couldn't force a single syllable out.

The sheer exposure of being stripped bare under their stares made my ears ring, drowning out any rational thought.

Roman stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. "You always blush when you lie.

Are you seriously still trying to deny it?" He pointed at the floor. "Apologize." I didn't move. "If you don't apologize right now, I'm extending the game with her.

Pick one." My pride was the only thing I had left. Even as my vision blurred, I forced my eyes wide open, refusing to let a single tear drop.

I snapped my spine straight, side—stepped him completely, and walked down the stairs.

That night, Roman barged into my room without knocking, looking entirely self—righteous. "You seriously crossed the line today." He crossed his arms, leaning against my desk. "Hitting her and refusing to apologize?

When did you turn into this?" I stared at him. "Oh? Turn into what?" He listed my crimes like a prosecutor. "You used to be quiet. Sweet. You listened to me.

Now you're obsessed with targeting Savannah, throwing crazy jealous fits, and literally assaulting people.

You're acting like some trashy street rat." I felt a literal headache forming. "I didn't do any of that. Stop projecting your twisted narrative onto me.

She provoked me every single time." I went to slam the door in his face, but he jammed his hand against the wood, shoving his way into my personal space. "You're full of it," he muttered.

He stepped uncomfortably close, reaching his hand out toward my waist, trying to grab my pockets. "Let me see what else you're hiding from me." I recoiled, slapping his hand away. "Don't touch me!" His face darkened, and he let out a harsh, condescending laugh. "Savannah lets me put my hands wherever I want.

Why the hell are you playing the untouchable ice queen?" Smack