Rachel Dyken - The Dare

"Nothing wrong with a little enthusiasm and encouragement." Grandma sniffled.

"No offense, Grandma," Jake rolled his eyes, "but having your eighty-six-year-old grandmother texting you about sexual positions kinda kills whatever enthusiasm said grandson may be experiencing. It's like sword fighting with noodles. Nobody's going to get poked, and you'll sure as hell get bored real fast."

"Noodles?" Char smacked Jake on the arm. "You're comparing sex to noodles?"

"Keep up!" Grandma stomped. "We have to fix what Jace ruined."

"I can fix it," I raised my hand, "if one of you or all of you tell me what the hell is going on."

"These plans," Grandma began to pace, "they take months to come up with. I can't simply snap my fingers and fix it."

She stopped pacing and smiled, the same one I had come to recognize as the all-knowing smile. People should run when that smile appears; countries should just give up — it's not worth the bloodshed.

"Do you love her?" she asked simply.

It should have been a simple question; instead, the question made me get itchy and squirmy as if I wasn't comfortable in my own skin. It made me afraid and made me feel stupid. Saying yes seemed too hard. Saying no? Too easy.

"He does." Jake sighed irritatingly.

"How do you know?" I snapped.

"Because you're itchy."

"Huh?" Char and Grandma said in unison.

"Players, we know the game well. Believe me, he's all uncomfortable with his feelings. It's why he's so twitchy. His mind is manifesting a physical response to his inability to commit emotionally."

Something happened that night.

Something I'm not sure any of us were willing to purposefully talk about.

Jake Titus, manwhore of the century, not only found his heart, but somewhere deep inside that brain, he found psychology.

It scared the shit out of me.

"Are you drunk?" Char whispered under her breath.

"Admit it." Jake ignored his wife and crossed his arms. "What I said made sense."

"I—" Sweating. Definitely sweating.

"Jace, if you like her so much, why are you hesitating?" Grandma asked sweetly.

"Because I want to get it right." I sighed. "I want to be what she deserves, and I don't think I am. I know I'm not, because if it was her or my future, I think I'd still pick me. Okay? Are you guys happy that you've just discovered what a selfish bastard I can be? I choose me! I don't choose the really pretty girl with bright green eyes. I choose what I've worked years for. I want a second chance. I guess I just wanted it on my terms."

The room fell silent.

"Oh, honey," Grandma pulled me into a tight hug, "it's good for you to admit that."

"It is?" I pulled back.

"Yes." Grandma patted my back. "It's only when we admit what scares us the most — we can conquer our demons. You're afraid of failure, but most importantly, you're afraid of success."

"Success?" I snorted. "I already have that."

"I meant emotional success. Nothing scares you more than knowing, in the end, you are the reason for your own unhappiness. Not some woman, not your career, not anything but your own stubborn self. I believe, Mr. Senator, that you've made your choice. I just hope, in the end, it's worth it."

"A reflection doesn't keep you warm at night," Jake said, all teasing gone from his voice.

"You're right." I hung my head defeated. "But the risk is nothing."

"I'm sorry." Grandma wiped away a tear.

"Grandma, it's fine it's—"

"Not you." She turned. "Her. I'm sorry, Beth."

It was then that I looked at the door. It had been cracked open the whole time. Beth stood there, bags packed. And she'd heard the whole damn conversation. So she'd run, but it hadn't been to the airport. She'd run to the woman who'd brought us here in the first place. She'd run to Grandma, hoping she could fix it, fix me. And she'd failed.

"Beth I—"

"Save it." She nodded her head and gave a sad smile. "I'll just…" She backed away slowly, rolling her suitcase behind her.

I waited for Jake to punch me. But it seemed even he was too disappointed in me to waste any energy.

Grandma kissed me softly on the cheek and whispered, "Be happy."

The problem? I'd never felt so alone or disappointed in myself in my entire life, and I still had to go tell both my parents that not only had they been duped, but that I'd failed them.

"Disappointing, that the senator shows such little character."

"He's just a boy." Grandma held a tissue up to her eye and dabbed. "He wants to piss on the world and claim it as his, all the while forgetting that at the end of the day, when your home is empty, what do you really have to show for the success you've had? The life you've lived? Success fades. Family? It's forever."

Beth

I always pitied those girls you saw at the airports. The ones that had tear-stained cheeks, were saying goodbye to friends or family or even significant others as they put on the old red white and blue and flew overseas.

My eyes were swollen, my bags packed like I was fleeing the country, and, of course, in my current state of distress I hadn't even realized that I had sweats on and no makeup.

The conversation I'd overheard? Not my favorite. In all my rashness I'd decided to talk to Grandma. I know, I know. She didn't sound like the voice of reason, but I wanted to thank her for the trip. She'd easily got it out of me, why I was upset, and said she'd fix it. She'd grabbed my hand and led me to the hut. It hadn't been hard to find Jace; the yelling had helped. She'd told me to wait outside.

I wish I would have gotten in the damn taxi. Because after hearing Jace's voice, the words from his mouth? I knew the truth. In the end, he would always choose himself; he'd let me walk away, and although he'd be sad about letting me go… To him? His job was his mistress, his wife, his everything. Even if he was guilt-free in the entire scenario, he still couldn't admit how he felt.

To me, that was weakness. Not being able to share your innermost feelings with someone? It's inexcusable, especially when that person does you the great honor of doing the exact same thing in hopes you'll return it.

I wiped away another tear and walked toward security.

"Beth?"

Kill me now.

"Beth?"

Seriously, God, send the lightning, I wanna go down in flames.

"Where's Jace?" A hand gripped my arm. I had a momentary vision of me turning around, grabbing Brett by the balls, and twisting until I heard either a pop or a tear.

"Not here," I said dryly.

Brett grinned seductively. "Paris is sleeping."

"Your point?" What? Did he want a cookie for getting his wife to go to bed on time? Fresh out, buddy., Sorry. And let's be honest, even if I had a cookie, I wouldn't share. I was so not in the sharing mood. Unless the cookie had arsenic; I'd stuff it in his throat and smile the whole damn time.

"Well…" Brett reached up to cup my face.

I tried to jerk back, but he held my chin firm within his fingers.

"You're here. I'm here. Your little senator is missing, and it seems I have some free time. You wanted me all those years ago in high school, and I'm like a fine wine. I taste better with time… We could go kill a few hours. What do you say?"

"You can't afford me." I glared.

"Try me."

"It was a joke." I finally jerked free. "I'm not a prostitute, you bastard! And I'm sorry, but cheating husbands don't really appeal to me."

"And cheating senators do?"

"Pardon?"

"Please." He laughed. "You really think you're enough to keep a man like Jace Brevik occupied? He'd cheat on you within the first year of marriage."

Grandma was going to have to bail me out of prison.

I reared back to slap him, when someone grabbed my hand and jerked me against his chest then twisted me around. A hot mouth met mine with force and urgency; he tasted like rum. Jace.