The Love Dare: One Game, One Kiss, One Night That Changes Everything.

**Val's P.O.V:**

The morning sun spilled through my curtains, and the cheerful chirping of birds outside my window tried its best to convince me that today would be a good day. I stretched lazily, contemplating the idea of opening the window to let in the crisp morning air. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today, I'd wake up as one of those people who greet the day with a smile and a sense of purpose. Yeah, right. Let me paint you a more accurate picture of how **Valentina "Val" Torres** actually starts her day.

Spoiler alert:

It's not pretty. I was deep in a dream-probably something involving a beach, a hammock, and zero responsibilities-when my alarm blared like a fire alarm in my ear. My hand shot out, slamming the snooze button with the precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. Five more minutes. That's all I needed. "Valentina Torres! If you're not downstairs in two minutes, I'm leaving without you!" My brother, **Reynolds**, bellowed from the hallway, his fist pounding on my door like he was trying to break it down. "Go away!" I groaned, burying my face in my pillow. It was way too early for his nonsense. Then it hit me. *Crap, I'm going to be late.* I launched myself out of bed, moving at a speed that would make Olympic sprinters jealous, and threw on the first semi-presentable outfit I could find: a baggy black shirt I'd doodled on to make it look artsy and a pair of high-waisted mom jeans. I dashed to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and grabbed my glasses before bolting downstairs. I snagged an apple from the fridge and sprinted outside to Reynolds's black Mustang. I'm not a car person-as long as it gets me from point A to point B, I don't care what it is. But of course, Reynolds treats that thing like it's his firstborn child. I yanked open the passenger door, only to find **Jaxon "Jax" Steele** already sitting there, smirking at me like he'd just won the lottery. "Morning, princess," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Morning, *princess*," I shot back, rolling my eyes and sliding into the backseat. I plugged in my earphones, determined to drown out whatever nonsense Jax and Reynolds were about to start.

---

### **At School**

The school parking lot was its usual circus of chaos-kids laughing, backpacks slung over shoulders, and the faint hum of drama already brewing. I made a beeline for my locker, where my friends were huddled together, chatting like they hadn't seen each other in years. Reynolds and Jax strutted through the entrance like they owned the place, their smirks and swagger drawing attention from every direction. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. A girl with enough makeup to supply a Sephora tried to flirt with Jax, but he looked at her like she'd just offered him a plate of broccoli. One thing about Jax: he hates when girls wear too much makeup. Not because he's some feminist icon, but because, in his words, "It gets everywhere, and I don't need foundation on my collar." Charming, right? I couldn't resist messing with him. I blew him an exaggerated kiss, and he responded by sending me a flying one. I caught it mid-air, pretended to stomp on it, and smirked as he clutched his chest like I'd shattered his heart. He mouthed, *'You're cruel,'* and I mouthed back, *'I know.'* Turning back to my friends, I asked, "What are you guys talking about?" "What are *you* talking about?" **Juliette Monroe** asked, her blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. Her blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun, and her freckles stood out against her minimal makeup. "We were just talking about the party tonight," **Brielle Hayes** said, her dark curls bouncing as she spoke. "You in?" "Oh," I said, hesitating. Parties weren't really my thing anymore. Not after...well, let's just say I had my reasons. "Come on, Val! It's been forever since we went out together," Juliette whined, dragging out the last word like a toddler begging for candy. "A year and a half," I corrected. "And I already have plans for tonight." "Plans like binge-watching *The Office* for the hundredth time?" Brielle asked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe. You never know," I said, trying to sound mysterious. "I do," Brielle muttered under her breath. "If you come, we'll get ice cream at 3 a.m. and do something stupid," Juliette offered. "Fine," I relented. "But I'm not drinking." They all nodded in agreement, and I felt a tiny spark of excitement despite myself.

---

### **English Class**

English class was my sanctuary-well, it would've been if Jax hadn't decided to sit right next to me. I was scribbling down notes from the board, trying to ignore him, but he kept poking my arm like a child with no concept of personal space. "What do you want?" I finally hissed, glaring at him. "I wanted to...uh...wait, never mind. I forgot," he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. I sighed, counting down the minutes until class ended.

---

### **The Party**

Fast forward to the party. The bass from the music thumped through the walls, and colored lights flashed in every direction. Brielle parked a few blocks away because the street was packed with cars. We walked up to the house, and I could already feel the energy buzzing in the air. Mason, the host, greeted us with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Hey, ladies! Glad you could make it. Looking good, Val," he said with a wink. "Thanks," I said, forcing a smile. Brielle and Juliette headed off to grab drinks, leaving me alone at the bar. I ordered a non-alcoholic drink and scanned the room, my stomach sinking when I spotted Jax across the room. "Shit," I muttered under my breath. Brielle followed my gaze and smirked. "Worried all the girls won't be able to take their eyes off him?" "No," I said, rolling my eyes. "If Jax is here, Reynolds is here too. And I didn't tell him I was coming. If he sees me, I'm dead." "Just avoid him," Brielle said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. But as I turned back to the bar, I saw Reynolds walking toward me, his expression anything but happy. "Shit," I said again, louder this time.