The next day, David strolled into the cafeteria, his confidence dialed up to eleven. His wet hair from last night was styled into its usual messy perfection, and his trademark smirk was firmly in place. But as he approached his friends, he slowed, catching snippets of their conversation.
“Burns is losing it,” Nate was saying, his voice dripping with amusement. “The great David Burns, brought to his knees by a redhead.”
“No kidding,” Sophie added, laughing. “She’s making him look like a total wimp.”
David’s jaw clenched. His heart sank for half a second before anger flared. He wasn’t going to let them think he’d lost. Not him. Not to anyone.
When he reached their table, he pulled something from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. A small bundle of lacy fabric landed in front of Sophie, who gasped dramatically.
“No way,” she said, picking them up and holding them aloft like a trophy. “You actually did it.”
Nate burst out laughing, slapping David on the back. “You’re a freaking legend, man.”
David leaned back in his chair, his grin cocky and triumphant. “Told you I’d win.”
For a moment, it felt like a victory. The table was buzzing, his friends showering him with praise. But when he glanced across the room and saw Betty laughing with her friends, something twisted in his chest. The sound of her laughter, the sight of her smile—it didn’t feel like a win anymore.
“Careful, Burns,” Sophie teased, catching him staring. “You’re looking at her like you actually care.”
David forced a laugh, brushing it off. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
That night he lay on his back, staring at the dark ceiling of his room. The faint hum of cars passing by outside was the only sound, but his mind was far from quiet. He turned onto his side, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape, but it didn’t help. The same image kept playing in his head: Betty laughing in the cafeteria, her eyes sparkling, her guard down for once.
He groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “Get it together, Burns,” he muttered to himself, but the words sounded hollow.
He rolled onto his back again, his hand brushing against his phone on the nightstand. For a fleeting moment, he considered texting her—something flirty, something easy. But he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. Betty wasn’t the type to fall for some late-night message. She’d call him out for it, probably with one of her sharp quips that always seemed to hit just right.
He set the phone down and stared at the ceiling again. The bet loomed in the back of his mind, a sour reminder of why he’d started this whole thing. It had seemed harmless at first—fun, even. Just another way to pass the time. But now, it didn’t sit right. Not after the way she’d looked at him by the pool, vulnerable and trusting for the first time. Not after the way she’d laughed with her friends today, completely oblivious to what he’d done.
David sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. She wasn’t like the others. She challenged him, saw through his charm, and still—still—he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She deserved better than being some stupid dare.
His jaw tightened, resolve hardening. He wasn’t going to let Nate or Sophie dictate this. Betty deserved more than a cheap trick or a smug win at their lunch table.
No, if he was going to keep seeing her—and God, he wanted to—then he was going to do it right.
David swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He smirked to himself, the kind of smirk that didn’t carry its usual edge of arrogance. This wasn’t about winning or losing anymore. It was about her.
Tomorrow, he was going to ask Betty out on a real date. And for the first time, it wouldn’t be about the dare, his friends, or the game. It would be about her—because no matter how much he tried to deny it, she was in his head, and he didn’t want her to leave.