She Dared Me to Kiss Her as a Joke… Nobody Expected Me to Actually Do It…

“Because of that kiss, Willa, I can take your house, your savings, and everything you’ve worked for.”

My fiancé said those words six weeks before our wedding, after a three-second kiss at my best friend’s birthday party. The man I kissed didn’t even know I was engaged. Neither did most of our friends. I’d spent months pretending my perfect relationship was exactly that—perfect. But when a video of the kiss reached my fiancé, he didn’t ask whether I loved him. He threatened to destroy me. And when I discovered what he’d secretly submitted to the bank using my name, I realized the wedding wasn’t the only thing I needed to stop.

PART 1 — One reckless dare exposes the engagement I kept painfully secret.

The dumbest thing I ever did lasted three seconds.

Three seconds.

That’s how long I kissed Jonah Reed in front of twelve people who thought we were playing a harmless party game.

Someone dropped a beer.

Someone screamed.

And my friend Drew Keller shouted, “Holy crap! You actually did it!”

I was thirty-four years old. Old enough to know better. Old enough to own a house, pay property taxes, and understand that some doors shouldn’t be opened unless you’re prepared to walk through them.

Apparently, none of that wisdom applied after two glasses of wine and a game of Truth or Dare.

Especially when the man sitting across from me was someone I’d been secretly in love with for almost a year.

And especially when I had an engagement ring hidden inside my purse.

My name is Willa Hartley. I live in Frederick, Maryland, in a little white bungalow with blue shutters and a porch that needs repainting every spring.

I work as a freelance graphic designer. Nothing glamorous. Mostly restaurant menus, local business websites, and the occasional wedding invitation that makes me question whether people should be allowed to choose their own fonts.

My life was pretty ordinary.

Until that Friday night.

Drew had invited everybody over for his thirty-sixth birthday. His wife, Becca, had ordered three enormous pizzas, filled a cooler with beer, and hung a crooked banner across their living room.

I arrived twenty minutes late carrying a grocery-store cheesecake.

Jonah was leaning against the kitchen counter when I walked in.

“Well, look who decided to join civilization.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Some of us have actual responsibilities.”

“You alphabetized your spice rack last weekend.”

“That was private information.”

He grinned.

That stupid grin.

Jonah was thirty-six, worked for a regional construction company, and had the irritating habit of remembering everything I said.

My favorite coffee order.

The anniversary of my aunt’s death.

The fact that I hated driving across the Monocacy River bridge in heavy rain.

He remembered things even when I wished he wouldn’t.

Eleven months earlier, we’d met at Drew’s Fourth of July cookout. I’d spilled lemonade down the front of his shirt.

Instead of getting annoyed, he’d looked at the stain and said, “Well, I was planning to wash this eventually.”

That was Jonah.

Easygoing. Funny. A little sarcastic.

Dangerously easy to love.

Unfortunately, I’d already been dating another man when we met.

Miles Carver.

My fiancé.

Miles was a successful real estate broker with expensive shoes, a spotless black SUV, and the kind of smile that made elderly women at church describe him as a wonderful young man.

He also had a talent for making me feel like an idiot without ever raising his voice.

“You’re wearing that?”

“Maybe don’t bring up your little design business around my clients.”

“Willa, sweetheart, adults don’t spend every weekend hanging around people from college.”

Little comments.

Nothing you’d necessarily repeat to your friends.

Not until you started noticing how often they happened.

Miles proposed four months before Drew’s party, at a steakhouse in downtown Baltimore.

There were roses.

Champagne.

A photographer he’d hired without telling me.

When I hesitated, he squeezed my hand beneath the table.

“Don’t embarrass me, Willa. Everybody’s watching.”

So I said yes.

Three seconds.

That’s approximately how long I took to make that decision, too.

Funny how much damage three seconds can do.

I hadn’t told Drew or Becca about the engagement. Jonah knew I was seeing someone, but he’d never met Miles. I kept saying the relationship was complicated, then changing the subject.

That wasn’t something I was proud of.

I’d gotten extremely good at avoiding questions I didn’t want to answer.

Miles preferred it that way.

He called my friends childish and insisted his business associates were better company.

I still saw Drew and Becca because they were family to me.

And Jonah?

I kept finding reasons to see Jonah.

Coffee after work.

Saturday farmers markets.

Helping Drew put together a ridiculous backyard swing set.

I told myself it was friendship.

I was lying.

At the birthday party, Jonah handed me a paper plate and nodded toward the cheesecake.

“Did you make that?”

“Absolutely.”

He examined the grocery-store sticker.

“Impressive. You even printed the barcode.”

“Talent runs deep.”

He laughed.

And there it was again.

That horrible, wonderful feeling in my chest.

Around ten-thirty, Becca decided we should play Truth or Dare.

I should’ve gone home.

I had laundry waiting in the dryer, a client deadline Monday morning, and a fiancé who expected me at his parents’ house for brunch on Sunday.

Instead, I kicked off my shoes and sat on the living room rug.

We were halfway through the second round when an empty beer bottle stopped directly in front of me.

“Willa!” Becca announced. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Jonah groaned from across the circle.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“Afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

“You do that professionally.”

Everybody laughed.

Becca leaned toward her husband and whispered something.

Drew looked at Jonah.

Then at me.

Oh, no.

I knew that expression.

“Willa,” Becca said sweetly, “I dare you to kiss Jonah.”

The room erupted.

“Finally!”

“Come on!”

“Just kiss him already!”

Jonah raised both hands.

“Hey, let’s not pressure anybody.”

He was smiling.

But I knew him well enough to notice the nervousness underneath.

Becca looked at me.

“Well?”

I could’ve laughed.

Could’ve chosen another dare.

Could’ve remembered the diamond ring sitting inside the zippered pocket of my handbag.

Instead, I looked straight at Jonah.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

The laughter got louder.

Jonah stopped smiling.

For a moment, nobody else existed.

He searched my face.

“Willa. Are you sure?”

There was no joke in his voice anymore.

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

He moved closer.

Slowly enough that I could’ve changed my mind.

I didn’t.

His hand brushed mine.

Then he kissed me.

Three seconds.

Nothing dramatic.

No music swelling.

No fireworks.

Just the smell of his clean cotton shirt and the warmth of his mouth.

And the terrible realization that I’d spent months pretending not to want exactly this.

When he pulled away, the room was silent.

Jonah looked stunned.

I probably looked worse.

Then Drew shouted, “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Everybody started laughing again.

Becca clapped like she’d won the lottery.

Someone yelled that we should’ve done it months ago.

I couldn’t breathe.

Not because the kiss was bad.

Because it wasn’t.

Because I wanted another one.

And because I knew exactly what was waiting for me at home.

I stood up so quickly I knocked over my plastic cup.

“Sorry. I need to go.”

Jonah rose immediately.

“Willa?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m fine.”

I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and hurried outside.

The cold air hit my face.

My car sat beneath a streetlight, its windshield covered in a thin layer of mist.

I climbed behind the wheel and stared at the steering wheel for several minutes.

My phone buzzed.

Jonah.

Are you okay?

I didn’t answer.

Another message appeared.

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

That did it.

I put my forehead against the steering wheel.

Jonah thought he’d hurt me.

Miles would’ve called me dramatic.

Neither man knew what had just happened inside my head.

I drove home past closed storefronts and dark brick row houses.

When I pulled into my driveway, Miles’s SUV was already there.

He wasn’t supposed to come over.

But Miles didn’t believe in asking permission when he wanted something.

He was sitting at my kitchen island, looking at his phone.

My engagement ring was on the counter.

I’d forgotten to put it back on.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“Fun night?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just Drew’s birthday.”

Miles slowly turned his phone toward me.

On the screen was a video.

Jonah kissing me.

I recognized Becca’s living room.

The birthday banner.

The sound of everybody cheering.

Somebody had posted the clip to our group chat, and it had reached Miles through a mutual acquaintance.

My stomach dropped.

“It’s not what you think.”

Miles smiled.

Not a pleasant smile.

“Really? Because it looks like my fiancée is making out with another man.”

“It was a stupid dare.”

“A dare.”

He repeated the word like it tasted rotten.

I swallowed.

“I know I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

He stood.

Walked toward me.

Stopped close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to my reputation?”

Not our relationship.

Not our trust.

His reputation.

“Miles, I—”

“Shut up and listen.”

I went silent.

His jaw tightened.

“We’re going to get married. You’re going to stop seeing those embarrassing friends. And you’re going to behave like a woman who’s lucky someone wants her.”

Something inside me went very still.

Then he picked up my engagement ring and held it out.

“Put it on.”

I didn’t move.

“Willa.”

“No.”

One word.

Barely louder than a whisper.

But I’d never seen him look so surprised.

His expression changed.

“Be careful,” he said. “That house of yours isn’t as secure as you think.”

I frowned.

“What does my house have to do with this?”

Miles picked up his keys.

“You’ll find out.”

He walked out, leaving the ring beside an unopened grocery bill.

I stood in my kitchen listening to his SUV back down the driveway.

At 11:58 p.m., my phone lit up.

An email.

From the bank that held my checking account.

Subject: Additional Verification Required — Home Equity Credit Application.

I hadn’t applied for a loan.

My house was paid off.

And when I opened the attached application, I saw a request for an $86,000 line of credit secured against my property.

The applicant’s name was mine.

The contact email belonged to Miles.

And the electronic signature looked exactly like the one I’d placed on our wedding venue contract.

Only I hadn’t signed this document.

Someone had done it for me.

PART 2 — A coffee shop confession makes my hidden engagement impossible to ignore.

At 3:07 the next morning, Jonah texted again.

Why did you run?

I stared at the message until my coffee went cold.

Then I typed the truth.

Because I’ve wanted to kiss you for months.

His reply came almost immediately.

Then why are you scared of me?

I couldn’t answer that without telling him everything.

So I didn’t.

By Monday evening, he’d asked me to meet him at a coffee shop on North Market Street.

I arrived early.

Jonah was already sitting beside the window, turning a paper coffee sleeve around his cup.

He didn’t smile when he saw me.

That hurt more than I expected.

“Sit down, Willa.”

I sat.

For a few seconds, we listened to the espresso machine hissing behind the counter.

Then he looked directly at me.

“Was the kiss a mistake?”

I stared at the chipped edge of my coffee mug.

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

I forced myself to meet his eyes.

“I’m engaged.”

His expression emptied.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m getting married in six weeks.”

Jonah leaned backward like somebody had physically shoved him.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were.”

He looked toward the window.

A delivery truck rumbled past.

“Jesus, Willa.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do.”

He rubbed his forehead.

“I would’ve never kissed you if I’d known.”

That was the part that made me feel sick.

Not because he was rejecting me.

Because he was right.

I’d taken away his ability to make an informed choice.

“I’m sorry.”

“Does he know?”

“Yes.”

Jonah looked back at me.

“And?”

“He’s furious.”

“He has a right to be.”

“I know that, too.”

Jonah was quiet for a moment.

Then he asked something I wasn’t prepared for.

“Do you love him?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

He nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

I reached for my purse and showed him the bank application.

The signature.

The house address.

The $86,000 credit request.

Jonah’s expression hardened.

“When was this submitted?”

“Thursday morning.”

He looked up sharply.

“The day before the party?”

“Yeah.”

“So this has nothing to do with the kiss.”

Exactly.

Miles hadn’t suddenly become dangerous because I’d embarrassed him.

He’d already been making plans with my property.

Jonah slid the phone back across the table.

“You need a lawyer.”

“I have an appointment tomorrow.”

“Good.”

He paused.

“And Willa?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make a decision about your wedding because of me.”

That nearly broke me.

Because Miles would’ve used my feelings as a weapon.

Jonah was asking me to think for myself.

The following morning, I met attorney Miriam Sloane in an office above a pharmacy downtown.

She examined the documents while I sat gripping a paper cup of water.

“Did you authorize anyone to apply for this credit line?”

“No.”

“Did you give your fiancé permission to use your information?”

“Absolutely not.”

Miriam removed her glasses.

“Then we’re treating this as suspected identity theft and attempted financial fraud.”

She helped me contact the bank’s fraud department, dispute the application, and arrange protections against additional credit applications.

The bank placed the request on hold while it investigated.

Then Miriam showed me something I’d missed.

The application included a scanned copy of my driver’s license.

The same scan I’d emailed Miles three weeks earlier for what he claimed was a wedding insurance policy.

My hands went cold.

There was no question anymore about where he’d obtained my identification.

But we still needed proof of who’d submitted the application.

And according to Miriam, the electronic records might tell us exactly that.

PART 3 — At a backyard barbecue, my fiancé finally shows his cruelty.

Two weeks later, Drew hosted a Saturday barbecue.

I almost skipped it.

Then I remembered something Miles had said the night he threatened me.

You’re going to stop seeing those embarrassing friends.

So I went.

I hadn’t worn my engagement ring since the birthday party.

Miles and I were living separately, and I’d told him the wedding was on hold. He kept insisting that was a temporary misunderstanding.

Unfortunately, he’d also been invited before everything happened.

He arrived carrying an expensive bottle of wine and wearing the same charming smile he’d used on my parents.

“Willa,” he said, loud enough for everybody to hear. “There you are, sweetheart.”

I stepped away when he tried to kiss my cheek.

His smile tightened.

“Still acting dramatic?”

“Not here, Miles.”

He looked around at our friends.

“See what I’ve been dealing with?”

Nobody laughed.

Across the yard, Jonah stood beside the grill.

He was wearing jeans and a faded Orioles T-shirt.

He looked at me once.

Then looked away.

Fair enough.

I spent the next hour helping Becca arrange food.

Miles worked the crowd, telling stories about his real estate deals and making jokes about my career.

“Willa’s very artistic,” he told Drew. “Somebody has to make pretty pictures while the adults handle finances.”

Becca stopped slicing tomatoes.

“That’s funny,” she said. “Willa designed the website that doubled my sister’s catering inquiries.”

Miles gave her a thin smile.

“Of course she did.”

I nearly hugged her.

Instead, I carried a tray outside.

Later, I found Jonah standing alone on the back porch.

“Hey,” I said.

He turned.

“Hey.”

We stood there listening to crickets and somebody arguing over baseball inside.

“I canceled the wedding venue,” I told him.

His eyebrows lifted.

“Seriously?”

“Yesterday.”

“And Miles?”

“He doesn’t believe me.”

Jonah leaned against the railing.

“Do you?”

I looked at him.

“Yeah. I do.”

For the first time in weeks, he smiled.

Then the porch door opened.

Miles stepped outside.

His gaze moved from Jonah to me.

Something ugly settled over his face.

“Of course.”

“Miles,” I said.

He ignored me.

He looked at Jonah.

“So you’re the guy.”

Jonah straightened.

“I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Then stay away from my fiancée.”

“I’m not your fiancée anymore,” I said.

Miles laughed.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out a copy of the disputed bank application.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

His expression changed.

Only for a second.

But I saw it.

He reached for the paper.

I pulled it away.

“Did you use my identification to apply for that loan?”

“Lower your voice.”

“Answer me.”

Miles stepped closer.

“You have no idea how complicated business financing is.”

“Then explain it.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Did you submit it?”

He grabbed my wrist.

Not hard enough to leave a mark.

Hard enough to remind me who he thought controlled the conversation.

“You’re not going to ruin my future over a stupid kiss.”

I pulled free.

“Your future?”

He leaned closer.

“That little house was supposed to be part of our financial plan. I could’ve turned it into something useful.”

I stared at him.

“My aunt worked thirty years to pay off that house.”

“And what have you done with it? Paint flowers on the porch?”

I didn’t answer.

Because behind Miles, the porch door had opened again.

Becca stood there.

Her phone was raised.

Recording.

Miles noticed.

His face drained.

“Turn that off.”

Becca didn’t move.

“Let go of my friend and get off my property,” she said.

“I wasn’t hurting anybody.”

“Great. Then leaving should be easy.”

Drew appeared behind her.

So did three other guests.

Miles looked at me.

For one second, I saw him calculating how to get his perfect smile back.

Then he pointed at Jonah.

“This is his fault.”

“No,” I said.

My voice was surprisingly steady.

“You filed that application before I kissed anybody.”

Silence.

Miles’s mouth opened.

Closed.

I took off the bracelet he’d given me for our engagement dinner and placed it on the porch table.

“I’m not marrying you.”

This time, nobody laughed.

Miles stormed through the house and out the front door.

A moment later, his SUV roared away.

Jonah looked at me.

“You okay?”

I rubbed my wrist.

“Ask me tomorrow.”

Then Becca handed me her phone.

“I think your lawyer needs to hear this.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Because Miles had just admitted on camera that he intended to use my house for his business.

And he had no idea what the bank’s investigators were about to uncover.

PART 4 — A forged application destroys the polished man everyone once admired.

On Monday, I walked into Miriam’s office carrying Becca’s recording.

We listened to it twice.

The second time, Miriam paused when Miles mentioned turning my house into something useful.

“That’s interesting,” she said.

“Interesting good or interesting terrifying?”

“Potentially useful evidence. But we still need the records.”

The bank’s investigation was already underway.

Its fraud team had confirmed that the application came through an online business lending portal.

The contact information matched Miles.

The initial submission had also originated from an internet connection associated with his brokerage office.

That didn’t prove everything by itself.

But it gave investigators a place to start.

Miriam helped me file a police report and preserve the emails, messages, and video.

Then she told me something that made my stomach tighten.

“There may be more than one victim.”

Three days later, Miles called me eleven times.

I didn’t answer.

He sent a text.

You’re destroying a perfectly good man’s career because you couldn’t control yourself around another guy.

I forwarded it to Miriam.

His next message was worse.

Withdraw the complaint or I’ll make sure everybody knows what kind of woman you are.

I saved that one, too.

Then I went back to work.

I had a bakery logo due Friday and an overdue invoice from a dentist in Hagerstown.

Funny how ordinary life keeps moving while your personal life catches fire.

The next major development came from an unexpected source.

A woman named Paula, who worked in compliance at Miles’s brokerage, contacted Miriam.

She’d been reviewing records after receiving an internal complaint about Miles.

Apparently, a business account connected to him was severely overdrawn.

He’d been telling coworkers that outside financing would fix everything.

Financing backed by my house.

The brokerage began its own investigation.

A week later, Miles was placed on leave.

Not long afterward, he was fired.

The firm’s review had uncovered altered client documents unrelated to my application.

I heard about it from Becca, whose cousin worked in the same office.

Miles had spent years presenting himself as the most trustworthy man in the room.

Now his former employer was examining files he’d handled.

His business partners stopped returning his calls.

The company website quietly removed his photograph.

Then his mother called.

“Willa, honey, can’t you two work this out privately?”

I stood at my kitchen sink, rinsing a cereal bowl.

“Did Miles tell you about the loan?”

A pause.

“He said there was a misunderstanding.”

“Did he tell you my signature was used without permission?”

Silence.

Then she asked, “Is the wedding really canceled?”

“Yes.”

I heard her inhale sharply.

“But the invitations—”

“Mrs. Carver, my house was nearly put at risk.”

Another silence.

Then she hung up.

I lost several thousand dollars in nonrefundable wedding deposits.

That stung.

A lot.

But I kept my house.

The credit application was rejected, and my lawyer helped me document the fraud dispute and protect my financial accounts.

Miles had planned to use my property to rescue a business he hadn’t told me was failing.

He’d also planned to marry me before I found out.

By early spring, prosecutors had filed charges related to the fraudulent financing paperwork.

The case was still moving through the courts.

I didn’t need to invent a public scandal.

The documents were doing a pretty good job by themselves.

One afternoon, Miles appeared at the end of my driveway.

I stayed on the porch.

He looked thinner.

His expensive jacket hung awkwardly from his shoulders.

“Willa,” he called. “Please. Five minutes.”

“No.”

“I lost everything.”

I looked at the man I’d once expected to marry.

“You had a chance to tell me the truth.”

He glanced toward the neighboring houses.

“Are you really going to let this happen to me?”

I picked up my phone.

“You need to leave.”

For once, he listened.

I watched him drive away.

Then I went inside and finished painting the kitchen cabinets.

They’d needed it for years.

And for the first time, I didn’t have anybody standing behind me telling me I’d picked the wrong color.

PART 5 — Six months later, I finally choose love without another dare.

The first time Jonah and I went on an actual date, there was no champagne.

No expensive restaurant.

No one photographing the moment for social media.

We bought coffee and walked along Carroll Creek.

It was a gray Sunday afternoon, and somebody’s golden retriever was enthusiastically trying to jump into the water.

Jonah handed me a napkin.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose.”

“Very romantic.”

“I’m doing my best.”

I laughed.

It felt strange.

Laughing without checking whether somebody else approved.

We’d waited until the engagement was over and the legal situation was under control before trying anything romantic.

Jonah had been patient.

Almost annoyingly patient.

He’d brought groceries when I was overwhelmed.

Helped replace a broken porch step.

Never once asked whether I’d heard from Miles.

And never treated my divorce-level wedding disaster like an opportunity he’d won.

We stopped beside the creek.

Jonah looked at me.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends. Is it about my inability to parallel park?”

“That’s a separate conversation.”

I smiled.

He grew serious.

“Why did you dare me that night?”

I looked down at my coffee.

There it was.

The question I’d been avoiding since Drew’s birthday.

The one that mattered more than all the paperwork.

“Because I was a coward.”

Jonah frowned.

“Willa—”

“No. Let me finish.”

I took a breath.

“I knew I had feelings for you. I’d known for months. But I didn’t want to admit what that meant about my engagement.”

He waited.

“So I made it a joke.”

“A dare?”

I nodded.

“If you refused, everybody would’ve laughed, and I could’ve pretended it didn’t matter.”

“And if I kissed you?”

I looked at him.

“I was hoping you would.”

Jonah stared at me.

Then he laughed.

Not loudly.

Just enough to make me smile.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve heard that.”

He stepped closer.

“You know what’s embarrassing?”

“What?”

“I spent almost a year finding excuses to sit next to you.”

I blinked.

“Seriously?”

“Willa, I attended a farmers market at seven in the morning because you said you liked the peach stand.”

“You hate peaches.”

“Exactly.”

I started laughing.

Really laughing.

The kind that makes strangers glance over.

Jonah shook his head.

“We’re idiots.”

“Apparently.”

Then he reached for my hand.

“No dares this time.”

I stepped closer.

“No audience.”

“No games.”

“No secrets,” I added.

He nodded.

“Definitely no secrets.”

And when he kissed me, it wasn’t three seconds.

Nobody cheered.

Nobody filmed it.

My phone stayed quiet in my pocket.

It was just us.

And that was enough.

Six months after Drew’s birthday party, we went to another one.

Same house.

Same friends.

Same crooked decorations.

Becca had made homemade cupcakes and burned half of them.

Drew was arguing with Jonah about football.

Everything felt comfortably familiar.

Except I wasn’t hiding anything anymore.

The legal case against Miles was still unresolved, but the bank had closed the fraudulent application. My credit was intact. My house was mine.

I’d painted the porch blue.

Jonah had helped.

And earlier that morning, we’d spent twenty minutes arguing about whether he should leave a toothbrush at my place.

Spoiler: he already had.

Around ten, Becca appeared carrying an empty beer bottle.

“Truth or Dare, anybody?”

Everybody laughed.

Jonah immediately shook his head.

“Absolutely not.”

Drew pointed at us.

“Oh, come on. It’s tradition now.”

I leaned against Jonah’s shoulder.

Becca grinned.

“Willa? Truth or dare?”

I looked at Jonah.

He raised an eyebrow.

I thought about the night everything fell apart.

The three-second kiss.

The engagement ring on my kitchen counter.

The loan application.

The long, ugly months that followed.

Then I looked at the man sitting beside me.

“Truth.”

Becca dramatically placed a hand over her heart.

“Wow. Personal growth.”

“Ask your question.”

She smiled.

“Was that kiss really just a dare?”

The room got quiet.

Jonah turned toward me.

I squeezed his hand.

“No.”

Becca’s smile widened.

“Then what was it?”

I looked at Jonah.

And for once, the truth didn’t scare me.

“It was the first honest thing I’d done in a long time.”

Drew groaned.

“Oh, that’s disgustingly romantic.”

Everybody laughed.

Jonah kissed my forehead.

Then leaned close enough that only I could hear him.

“Best three seconds of my life.”

I grinned.

“Mine too.”

And when he kissed me again, I didn’t have to hide it.

THE END