Page 24 of The Dare

Idiot! Throwing yourself at her like that. Try talking to her Einstein. Maybe dinner?

“Let’s start over,” I suggest. “You’re traveling and we’ve just happened to meet. I’d like to spend the afternoon getting to know you. Then maybe some dinner in the first class dining car?”

Her eyes widen and then narrow as she listens, and I can tell she likes the idea.

But there’s something else. Something blocking her true feelings.

“What about mom, Suzanna?” she asks herself absently, focusing more on her friend. “I mean… once mom gets off the train, she’ll be all alone.”

I wince a little internally, but anything for Natasha is never too much.

“How about we all have dinner together? We can see how it pans out with your friend.”

She breathes a sigh of relief as if a major crisis has been averted, and although I’d rather have her all to myself I wouldn’t want her worrying about her friend either.

“Where do you get off?” she asks, making me smile wide as I scan her body again.

“I think I’m going all the way,” I remark cryptically, which makes her smile too.

Chapter Seven

Natasha

After the shock of Michael kissing me for real, not just as a dare, I have plenty to mull over as well as trying to keep up with his conversation.

Keep up with everything that’s happened so suddenly.

It feels like a dream, unreal. Everything has happened so quickly.

One minute I’m groaning as I struggle to go along with Suzanna’s stupid dare, the next I’m groaning for real as I have my hands on a real life man.

And not just any man, Michael Stapleton.

He seems worried for a moment when we swap ages, but when I look at him I don’t see a number.

If anything I’m worried he’ll think I’m immature or too young.

All the things I’ve proven myself to be at some stage or another on this trip so far with my friend Suzanna, and even my mom.

But once we’re settled down and we get to talking it really is just like Michael said.

It feels like I’ve known him forever, and once I get past my initial nerves and self-doubt, the minutes turn into hours as we talk about everything apart from him.

Although, when he does talk, it’s all about me for some reason.

I deliberately avoid talking about my family and he in turn deliberately avoids the topic of his own personal life.

He mostly wants to know all about therealme.

Something nobody has ever even thought to ask about.

What do I love? What do I hate?

There’s nothing that Michael seems to shy away from when it comes to finding out what makes me tick.

Who I live with or what I actually do is secondary, as long as it doesn’t involve another male.

For some reason every time I even mention a man or male, he seems to bristle at the idea.