“Hey, I double dog dare you to steal that vodka, jump on the table, and chug as much as you can.”

It all started with a whisper. I was on a blind date, hating every second of it, and with one look you knew I was just like you.

A daredevil.

I turned to look at you, your hazel eyes twinkled mischievously, and a smile enraptured my face.

“What do I get in return?”

You smiled and answered with overconfidence.

“A date with the baddest man in town.”

I rolled my eyes so hard at you, I swear I saw my brain, but I do it.

And that night, you held my hair back as I threw up on the street.

Now—back to the present.

“I double dog dare you to sneak over to that cop car and sing, ‘Can’t take my eyes off of you.’” I whisper as we walk down the street, still buzzing from our date at the gallery.

You meet my eyes and wink at me, those pearly whites lighting up my irises.

“You’re on, baby. What do I get?”

I tap my chin in exaggerated thought, as if I haven’t planned this far ahead.

“You get to dare me and I can’t say no.”

Your eyes narrow as you sprint over to the cop car, calling, “You’re on!” over your shoulder.

Shortly that evening, you make good on the dare I owe you, and I’m running down an alley carrying a vase we’ve just stolen from the gallery.

The cops are none the wiser, they think we’ve gone the other way.

Breathlessly, I turn to you, chest heaving and lactic acid building up. Tilting my head I peck your cheek and slip the vase into your hand, “Double dog dare you that you can’t sneak this back into the building before the cops notice.”

You let out a breathless laugh and pull down your mask.

“You owe me one.”

“I know.”

I just didn’t think the next dare I’d complete would be signing a confession for a murder that I didn’t commit.

So, what’d I do?

I take your murder charge, I double dog dare you to break me out.

A viscous cycle with only three words.

Double. Dog. Dare.