Rolling Dice by Beth Reekles Page B

walk-in closet with an old miniskirtand woolen sweater she finds him, and dresses up. Ann leaps up, crying, “Wait! You need lipstick!”
    My sides ache from laughing: Kyle looks arrogant; he’s tall and lean, with short spiky hair and a soccer player’s build—and he’s wearing a denim miniskirt.
    When Summer gets out her phone to take a photo of it, Kyle strikes a pose, his hand on his hip, and pouts at the camera, a caricature of a model. It’s hilarious.
    “Now get out of my clothes,” Tiffany demands, once Summer’s taken the photos.
    The game carries on. A couple of people pick truths, which surprises me—I’d have thought all the guys would go for dares. There’s nothing too bad, though. Owen is dared to kiss Ann; we find out that Summer’s celebrity girl-crush is Megan Fox; and that of all the girls at the party, Ricky would make out with Tiffany.
    I’ve been lucky so far: the bottle hasn’t landed on me.
    “My turn,” Tiffany announces loudly, and leans forward to spin the bottle. As she straightens again, she nudges my side. It’s so slight, I’m not sure if it’s an accident, so I look at her. She catches my eye and winks.
    Slowly I turn my gaze back to the wine bottle, which spins slower, and slower … and slower … and stops.
    And it’s pointing at me.
    I don’t know how she managed it, but she’s done it deliberately.
    “Ooh, Madison!” she trills. She doesn’t even ask me whether I pick truth or dare. I mean, I’d have picked dare anyway, but she steamrollers ahead. “Um, let’s see … Oh, I know! Madison, you have got to … ready for this? You have to spend seven minutes in heaven … with Bryce.”
    I stare at her for a moment that stretches out so long and silent it feels like an eternity. I don’t know what to feel—annoyed, surprised, or happy. Actually, all three. But mostly annoyed at Tiffany for putting me under pressure like this.
    Then again … even if her plan is going to work, there’s the indisputable fact that I have to kiss him. I have to kiss a guy. I’ve never kissed a guy before. This isn’t how I imagined my first kiss. What if I’m a terrible kisser?
    She interrupts my thoughts, saying, “Well, go on—what’re you waiting for?” and gives me a shove, prompting me to get to my feet. I do, but it’s a hesitant and awkward movement, and I’m unsteady. A hand catches my elbow—Bryce’s hand, of course. He smiles at me easily, like this is no big deal.
    No big deal?
I want to yell at him.
I’m freaking out over here!
    I gulp, and then Ricky says, slurring only a little, “Hang on—if you’re gonna do this dare, you’re gonna do it right. Tiffany, do you happen to have one single closet in this house which is not a walk-in one?”
    She laughs. “Come with me.” She gets to her feet, sways a little, hiccups, and then drags Bryce after her. He takes hold of my wrist to pull me along too. I look over my shoulder. Melissa winks at me, and Summer gives an excited little smile, looking like she wants to squeal.
    Tiffany pauses partway down the hall, and throws open a white door. It’s dark inside, but I can see stacks of towels, and pipes running behind the shelves.
    “In you go!” she cries, pushing us into the closet. The door shuts behind us, and we hear the key turning on the other side; my heart beats nauseatingly fast. I feel just like I did at the start of the party, when I hid out in the bathroom—scared and nervous, with sweaty palms and a racing pulse roaring in my ears—though the butterflies in my stomach are different.
    This definitely isn’t how I imagined my first kiss.
But it could be a lot worse
, I tell myself.
    “Isn’t there a light switch anywhere?” I ask. My eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the darkness yet, and the only light is the thin band spilling in through the crack under the door.
    “No idea,” Bryce says. His voice is closer than I expected, and his breath tickles my face a little. His fingers