His mouth turns downward, but he seems to value his life because he doesn’t answer.
“Last time I checked, you aren’t my father.” Actually, I never knew my father, but I do know it’s not Chase.
“Good thing,” Chase mumbles.
“And I’m not your responsibility. Why don’t you go worry about Cassidy?” I huff. I saw another article about them online just this morning. It speculated on whether they were exclusive or just casual friends with benefits.
“Cassidy? Why would he worry about Cassidy?” Emma asks, looking at me in confusion.
“Daisy?” I say sweetly.
“Yes, Olivia?”
“We’ll strike off swimming with the sharks. But the rest of the list is good. That will keep me busy this week,” I say and stand up, snatching the list from Chase.
“Yes!” Daisy lifts her fist in jubilation.
“Yes!” The pervy drummer twirls his drumstick and gives me a slow appraisal, focusing most of his attention on my breasts.
Sebastian shakes his head sadly. “One day, you’ll regret this opportunity. And then it might be too late to swim with the sharks.”
“We haven’t even gotten to the last dare. Lucky number seven,” Daisy says wickedly.
I look down at the paper, and my mouth goes dry.
“Number seven is you have to get laid!” she exclaims.
“What the hell, Daisy? Olivia, are you serious about this?” Chase glowers at the rest of the group and snorts.
I stare at the list in my hand, and yup. Lucky number seven. Get laid. It’s written in a purple glitter pen. There’s even a heart and smiley face next to it, along with what looks suspiciously like the eggplant and peach emojis.
I want to lecture Daisy and the rest of them about boundaries. But after Chase put me firmly in the friends-without-benefits category, it doesn’t sit right with me that he’s trying to dictate whether I get laid or not. I tried to. With him. And he turned me down.
We glare at each other, but my gaze keeps straying to his muscular chest and arms, and I find myself distracted by how good he looks, standing there all sweaty and manly and growly-like.
Still, I try to keep up my righteous annoyance. He has no idea what I’m capable of. Maybe I don’t even know what I’m capable of. That’s the whole point of these risks.
One day, in the not-too-distant future, I’ll have someone of my own. An ordinary someone like me. Someone who doesn’t have fans and crazy stalkers or beautiful women chasing him. Someone with real potential for a real relationship.
And maybe this list will be a good place to start.
CHAPTER 25
Olivia
Four days—and nights—later, I’m about to tackle my fourth risk. Technically this risk is first on the list. But it’s taken me a while to lead up to it because it requires a little more daring.
It also requires the least number of clothes.
As in, none.
Over the past few days, I’ve ticked off most of the list.
Three days ago, Emma, with her magical skills, got us all sparkly pink skates and turned the large foyer into a roller disco, complete with colored lights, Sebastian playing DJ, and a disco ball. Emma and Daisy skated circles around me as I clung to them before landing on my ass, over and over.
Ryder’s band eventually joined us, but Chase was noticeably absent.
The next day, Emma arranged for a pole-dancing instructor to come to the mansion. The lady even brought her own stripper pole, which, with Sebastian’s and Ryder’s very enthusiastic support, she installed in their giant home gym.
Daisy and Emma took the lesson with me. We drew a small crowd of guys from Ryder’s band watching until we kicked them out. The pole dancing went a little better than the roller-skating. I wasn’t good because I’m so out of shape, but it was fun, and it’s one sport where my full breasts are considered an asset, not a liability.
Again, Chase was missing. I worked up the courage to ask Emma where he was, as casually as possible, and she mumbled something about him having meetings. I pretend it doesn’t matter. But the idea that he’s purposefully staying away from his own home because of me hurts.
I shake my head and try to focus on my next risk. That’s the thing about the list. It’s a great distraction from obsessing over Chase.
It’s two in the morning. The house is quiet, and I’m standing next to a pool with water as smooth as glass. A gentle breeze blows.
Even though no one is around, I’m achingly aware that I’m wearing nothing but a sarong wrap under my towel.