"Truth or Dare?" I ask my best friend Madge.
"Hmm," she ponders popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth.
Madge has always been popular with her blond hair and blue eyes; I've never been popular, black hair and gray eyes. I always have my hair in a braid, like it is now. Madge has her hair in a ponytail and her bangs in a bump. We're both wearing the same pajamas, which consists of a tank top and plaid pants. I have red pajamas and her girly self is dressed in purple.
"Dare," she decides.
She always does dare but I never do because she has the most outrageous dares you could think of. When we were twelve and I chose dare I had to walk down the street in only my undergarments, she won't let you out of a dare. I think hard of a dare to get her back for that time and I think of one.
I grin and laugh a little, "Lick the floor."
"Easy," she chants and gives the floor a big hard lick, "that all you got?"
Only Madge would, only Madge. I look around the apartment we share, a small television in our small living room next to our small kitchen near our small bedroom. We go to the same college studying to be a teacher which I didn't want to be but Madge forced me into it. We both didn't want to have to live in the dorms and the only way we could afford an apartment was to both chip in and share, even with the two of us however, this was the best we could get.
"Truth or Dare?" she asks, "Why do I even ask truth, right?"
Something about her comment makes me change my usual answer.
"Dare," I say with a sly grin on my face.
"Oh, I see," she says, "do the cinnamon challenge."
I've seen people do the cinnamon challenge and I must say it does not look fun at all.
"People have died from that!" I say. "I know, that's why instead of using a tablespoon you can use a ladle."
My mouth drops.
"What? I'm not doing that!" I protest.
"Oh, but you have to. That's the whole point, you have to do it," she says.
"Just give me another one, isn't there anything else I can do instead?" I plead.
"Well, I had this one idea," she says mischievously.
"What is it?" I ask.
"You know that really hot guy that goes to our school?" she asks.
"Could you be more specific?" I ask.
"Blond hair, blue eyes, his name is…is…damn it, why can't I remember? Something like…it starts with a P…" she ponders.
"Peter?" I suggest.
"Yeah!" she says.
"Wait," she says, "it's not Peter it's…Peeta! Yeah, Peeta!"
"Go on," I say.
"I found out he works at a sub shop and I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to flirt," she says.
"Okay," I say. "I dare you to go there and flirt without my help," she says smiling.
"I cannot flirt and you know that!" I exclaim.
"That or the cinnamon!" she teases.
"So to flirt only, right?" I clarify.
"No, Katniss," says Madge sarcastically, "I want you guys to have sex."
"Shut-up," I say rolling my eyes. I sigh, I've made my decision. "Let's go to the sub shop."
We walk through the streets of New York and the sky is gray nearing night. We're both twenty one but our parents who live in Pennsylvania think we're still too young to be alone in a city like this. They visit every summer and are constantly calling. We arrive at the sub shop and it's a lot fancier than I expected. There are booths and tables and we realize it's a sit down restaurant.
"What if we don't get him as our waiter?" asks Madge.
"You tell me, this is your idea," I remind her.
"How many?" asks the woman who will be seating us.
"Two," we both say. She guides us to a booth.
"Your waiter, Peeta, will be here shortly," she says then leaves.
When she mentions Peeta's name Madge smiles at me. "I guess the odds are in our favor," she says.
"No," I retort, "the odds are in your favor."