Dare:
"Jay-sus, Bella," Rosalie exclaimed. "I've never seen someone pound it back like you."
"I spent my teenage years surrounded by boys," she gasped as the tequila burned a path down her throat.
"And how did this result in an affinity for hard liquor instead of an unwanted pregnancy?" Rosalie asked as she sipped her martini.
Bella eyed the drink in disgust. Rosalie was a snooty drink kind of person. You know the extra dry, two blue cheese olives, shaken not stirred kind of gal. She could rack up a bill pretty damn fast.
"They looked at me as one of their own," Bella took a swig of her beer to chase away the burn. "But I did lose my virginity to one of them."
"Oh, now that's what I want to hear!"
Bella rolled her eyes. "It's not what you think. It was your typical fumble in the back of a truck, pants around your knees, painful as shit and so not worth the effort by the end of it. We never did it again."
Rosalie scrunched up her nose. "Sounds...pleasant."
"About as much as your friend, Mr. Cullen," Bella snorted.
Rosalie quirked a grin. "Still angry, huh? Here I thought that tequila was a universal balm to all wounds."
"You're damn right I am! Who the hell pissed in his fucking cornflakes?" she felt a rant coming on. "If I ever see him again you can be damn sure that I will rip him a new fucking hole so that he can shove his head in it and—"
She stopped abruptly as Rosalie held up a little white plastic card in front of her face, balanced delicately between her index and middle finger. Her friend was wearing the grin that instinctively had Bella looking for signs of feathers around the other woman's lips. It was definitely a cat who ate the canary kind of look and Rosalie had perfected it sometime around twelve by Bella's best estimates.
"So go tell him."