Truth or Dare (First Love H.S. Romance)

Chapter 1- Justin

If I only had the ability to time travel.

Mission one: going back to the day I kissed Bridget Adams under the monkey bars.

A couple of us kids were playing truth or dare when my best friend, Ian Vorsky, double-dogged dare me to plant a wet one right on Bridget's lips.

Like any ten year old boy, the thought of kissing a girl was next to eating slugs but chickening out was worse. To save face, I marched over and gave her a quick peck.

Easy-peasy, right?

The devil must've had it out for me that day because Bridget had other plans. She grabbed my shoulders, plastered her lips to mine, and held me captive for five Mississippi's.

A circle of giggling girls formed around us while the boys stood off to the side gagging in disgust. After escaping her slimy clutches, I hawked a loogie while Ian keeled over in laughter. A smug look crossed Bridget's face and I stomped away wiping my mouth of her cooties.

That was the day a future filled with her constant harassment was, literally, sealed with a kiss. Had I known Bridget would become the bane of my existence, my choice would've been truth instead of dare.

"Justin!"

The piercing screech breaks through old memories as annoyance flares like a hot poker. Sighing, I scrub a hand down my face then cut my eyes to the strawberry blonde demoness standing in front of me.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Colder than the February wind whipping around us, her Indigo eyes glare at me as she waits for an answer.

Fifteen minutes ago, I was sitting at the lunch table when Bridget demanded my presence outside. I would've said no but since she does drama queen like it's her profession, I trudged behind her to escape prying eyes and ears.

Now, here I am, balls shriveled up like a prune from the Winter frost in the air while trying to fight back the headache throbbing at my temples.

"Yeah, I hear you." Listening, though, is a different story.

Since ending our on again/off again relationship last week, she's been playing the Oscar worthy role of a crazy ex-girlfriend. If she's not shooting daggers at me in the halls, then she's reciting the whole, 'I can't live without you' and 'we belong together' spill.

Yeah, we belong together, alright. Like a wolf belongs in a pen full of sheep.

Which brings me to mission two: going back to tenth grade and stopping this disaster right in its tracks.

Had I not been dizzy from all the vodka shots I chugged down with Ian, I would've been able to combat Bridget's power of seduction. With her ass grinding against my lap and her tongue trailing down my neck, she coerced me into becoming her boyfriend. What little resolve I had as a sixteen year old horndog was shot to hell.

Still, that's no excuse for poor judgement and I've been suffering the consequences ever since.

"Look, I get that you want to take a break-"

I roll my eyes. "No, I said we we're done. Big difference."

"What. Ever." She huffs in exasperation. "This whole thing is getting ridiculous. You don't return my calls, you ignore my text, and you act like I don't exist!" She stomps her booted foot and the wind picks up as if Mother Nature can feel her rage.

"Maybe you should take that as a hint."

"And maybe you should stop acting like a surly jackass and apologize." She counters, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't know what's going on with you, but if you keep this

up you're going to lose me for good."

If only that were true.

Trying to shake Bridget is like trying to escape a Great White shark in the middle of the ocean. This would be the third time we've broken up- no, fourth- yet, Boomerang Bridget keeps coming back.

"Is that a promise?"

Some of her haughtiness wanes and her shoulders slump before making a quick recovery. "Yeah, it is because I'm the best girlfriend you'll ever have."

Is she freaking serious?

Dating her had been more of a chore than a pleasure and the effort it took to be around her left me exhausted.

I knew all this going in but a steady girlfriend meant sex on the reg. No guy was turning that down.

So, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt thinking, just maybe, there was something deeper underneath her spoiled, bratty facade.

It didn't take long to realized my mistake.

As a friend- and I use that term loosely- Bridget was an annoyance I had to deal with in small, manageable doses. As a girlfriend, she's clingy, jealous, and possessive. She was also shallow as a puddle and cared more about the optics of being my girlfriend than anything else.

"Do you really think some other girl is going to put up with your mood swings?" She continues. "I don't think so."

I glance at my Apple watch before shoving my hand back into the pockets of my UVA sweatshirt.

"Are we done here?"

Seething at my dismissal, her gaze gives me frost bite.

Combating it with fire in my own quickly brings her back to reality.

Unlike the little minions that follow her around school doing her bidding, I can't, won't, and never will be intimidated by her.

When I start to walk away, she plants herself in front of me and the cloying scent of her perfume smacks me in the face.

"Who is she?"

Dumbfounded, I ask, "Who is who?"

"The girl you're dumping me for because there has to be someone else. Why else would you break up with me?"

My carefully woven temper starts to unravels at the seams and I grind my molars as she rattles off a list of names. She's wrong on all accounts except one, Mattie Hinton, a senior I hooked up with at a party this summer.

Unlike most girls, Mattie didn't beat around the bush when it came to sex. We ended up in the back seat of her car; a wham, bam, thank you ma'am quickie. If Bridget knew I screwed the girl that got the head cheerleader spot over her, she would blow a gasket.

"Bye Bridget." I sidestep the five-foot seven blockade and round the corner of the building.

My father is a lawyer and while I can't stomach the man, I've learned a few things. I'm not about to confirm nor deny her allegations.

"Fine! Don't tell me who she is but I will find out."

Her villainess threats fall on deaf ears.

Bridget may have most of the school quaking in their boots but her torment doesn't extend to me because anything she can do, I can do ten times better.

"Hey, if that's how you want to spend your time, have at it." I toss over my shoulder.

"I will and don't you dare come running back to me when you get tired of screwing your

new slut!"

Feeling spiteful, I turn, walking backwards and smirk. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Unlike my old slut, she keeps me entertained."

My words land with a vengeance and she stomps her foot again like a petulant child gearing up for a hissy fit. If looks could kill I'd be laid out on the ground in a puddle of blood.

"Fuck you, Justin!"

"Been there, done that and have the scratch marks on my back to prove it, babe."

At the sound of her loud shriek, my lips peeled back into a self-gratifying grin.