For the last course, we both order tiramisu and cappuccino. “And I’d love a nice port, if you have one,” I add at the last minute.

“Me, too,” Dakota agrees.

I’m pretty sure our waiter thinks he’s died and gone to heaven—meanwhile, if my math is correct, with the additional wine I ordered with our entrees we’re up over a thousand dollars. I hope that’s enough for whatever the audience wants from us. The table could only hold so much food at one time.

Instead of the waiter bringing our port, a woman with white-streaked hair and a sweet smile brings the two glasses on a small tray. “I just had to come out and meet the two of you for myself, to prove you’re real,” she chuckles.

“What do you mean?” Dakota asks, glancing at me.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had a check like yours with only two people dining,” she laughs. She just can’t keep the smile off her face. “We’re going to have a good night, thanks to the two of you.”

“I’m glad. The food was fantastic.” There is something motherly and kind about her and it makes me smile.

“Yes, it’s getting harder for us now. We’re not bright or shiny and you’ll be surprised how easy it is for people to walk right past this place,” she continues, a frown touching her face. “If it weren’t for my granddaughter’s tuition, I would sell and retire. I’m old and tired and it is just not worth it anymore, but my daughter died a few years ago and Jessica needs the money for school so I carry on, but I can tell you some days are so bad, I’m not sure we’ll make it. Then you two come in and turn things around and now I have hope for tomorrow. Your bill will pay the wages for this week.”

“You’re so sweet to come out and speak with us,” Dakota says, hands crossed over her chest.

“And you’re very sweet for making an old lady so happy. Thank you both.” She signals to one of the waiters for our desserts to arrive. “Your desserts and coffee are on the house.”

Both Dakota and I speak up at the same time.

“Absolutely not,” I say.

“We wouldn’t dream of not paying for our dessert and coffee,” Dakota chimes in.

“Oh,” she exclaims, surprised by how instant and unanimous our objection is. “But I would like to give you something complimentary.”

Dakota shakes her head. “No, no, it’s not necessary. We prefer to pay for them. Please do us a favor and charge us for everything.”

“Are you sure?” she asks doubtfully.

“It will make us happy,” Dakota says softly.

Suddenly, she turns towards me and holds out her hand, her eyes full of gratitude. “You are such amazing young people. If only there were more people like you in the world. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for a great meal,” I say. I’m too full to move, but what a great night it has been. Dakota was funny and easy-going, the food was to die for, and we managed to help a sweet lady too.

“Wow,” Dakota whispers when we’re alone again. Her face is glowing. “I feel like puking, but this has been a really great night, and I’m so glad we made her happy.”

I groan when a plate of tiramisu appears in front of me. Dakota laughs at my expression. It’s okay for her since I’ve eaten the lion’s share of all the food we ordered, but I’m so damn full, I can hardly move. I pick up the spoon with steely determination. This is the last thing, I tell myself as I start at it.

A burb erupts from deep within me and Dakota’s eyes widen, but I keep spooning the creamy concoction. I’ll burst before I give up.

After a few minutes, I say, “That’s it. We’re done.” I put the spoon down. I’ve never felt so uncomfortably full in my whole life, but we’ve completed our stunt.

“We just won’t eat for a week,” Dakota says with a grin as our phones both signal a new text.

I look at my phone

My overly full stomach sinks when I read the message.

We stare at each other in horror.

Dakota actually becomes pale. “What the hell, Trent?” she whispers. “This can’t be real. What kind of monsters are running this game show?”

“Fuck,” I swear, pissed at myself for not seeing it sooner. Why else would they make us order all this food and rack up such a huge bill? They could have sent us to McDonald’s if they just wanted us to get sick on food.

“Are we going to do this?” she asks, staring at me with wide eyes. “I mean, that poor woman…”

“…And her granddaughter. I know. It would’ve been bad enough if she hadn’t come out to thank us.”

“She shook hands with you, Trent.”

“I know. I know.” I avoid looking at Dakota’s face and try to think. Shit. Shit. Shit. I can’t believe I fell for it. There’s no way around it. I now look at Dakota’s pale face. “We don’t have a choice. We have to do it unless we want to give up now. Do you?”

She closes her eyes for a second and grimaces. “Ugh. We can’t do that.”

“I know.”

She bites her bottom lip and looks around to where the woman is sitting at a table writing something in a book. “Oh, God. If we do this to her, she is going to lose her faith in humanity.”

“We have to go through with it,” I say firmly.

She covers her face with her hands. “I suppose we do, but I feel sick.”

When our smiling waiter comes by with our check, my chest feels tight and uncomfortable. This is so wrong.

“How much?” Dakota asks.

“One thousand, one hundred and twenty-five dollars.”

She closes her eyes. “And I’m sure he’s looking for a tip, too.”

“Of course. We’ll ruin everybody’s night, but it’s between staying on the show or leaving it.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” She glances around again.

“There’s hardly anybody out here. Why don’t you go out, pretend you have a call to take, and I’ll follow shortly. Once I’m out of here, run.”

“Run where?” she whispers, eyes enormous.

“I don’t know. Just run. I’ll follow.”

“I’m not sure I can run after eating all this…”

“So find an alley to throw up in. But run.” I sit back, waiting for her to leave.

Pulling her phone out and holding it to her ear like she’s answering a call, she walks to the door of the restaurant. I watch, trying to look as casual as possible, drumming my fingers on the tabletop. When enough time has passed, I get up and follow her out the door with my heart slamming like crazy against my ribcage.

“Go! Go! Go!” We take off at a run, across the street.

Within seconds, the sound of two angry voices follows us and I dare shoot a look over my shoulder. A man in a Chef’s uniform and our waiter. They are screaming and waving their arms, cursing up a storm.

“Run!” I gasp, overtaking her, grabbing her hand, and pulling her faster. Either the food is weighing her down or she’s just damn slow, but the two from the restaurant aren’t slow and they want their money. I don’t blame them.

We cut down an alley and I yank her behind a dumpster at the last second, pressing her to the wall with a finger to her lips. Our pursuers either didn’t see us, or gave up. Neither of them looked like they were in great shape. I count to one hundred in my head, slowly, before I feel even remotely safe.

“We lost them,” she pants, pressing against me.

I’m leaning against her too, trying to hide the two of us in the stinking alley, next to a smelly dumpster. But it’s not that I’m thinking of right now. I’m not even thinking about the restaurant or the sweet old lady whose wonderful night we just ruined.

I’m thinking about her. How gorgeous she is. Those thickly lashed hazel eyes are staring up into mine with a vulnerable, totally fuckable expression. I hear the sound of her heart beating, and smell her perfume. Or it could be her lip balm. Something fruity. I feel her firm breasts pressing into my abs. We’re standing so close I feel myself swallowing her quick, jerky hot breaths. They smell of coffee, mascarpone cheese, and champagne.

Suddenly, I’m breathing as hard as she is. And it's not the running that’s done it.

Our phones buzz, reminding me of why we’re there. It’s not for a fucking make out session.

Dakota blinks suddenly, and the moment’s over. She stays still as a statue while I reach for my device.

“Congratulations,” I read out. “You’ve successfully completed your second Dare Me stunt, and moved up in the ranks. You are each $100,000 richer. Good luck on your next stunt.”

I look at her.

She looks at me.

We’re through to the next level. So why are neither of us happy about it?