And now for the excerpt:
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The birthday dare was something that she had invented in college, and it was a tradition between the two of us. Something embarrassing, crazy, and out of character was the name of the game, and if anyone ever backed out, they were called chicken for it. One year, she told me that I was to greet everyone at the door with the number of men I've slept with. For each of her birthdays, before this last one of course, I had her wear a tighter and more ridiculous outfit.
“It's not my birthday!” I mock-protested. My real birthday was the day before, and my family came over with cake and relatives, and questions of when I would get married. “Oh,” she said, “so I should just get used to calling you chicken right now?”
I let out a sigh, “Oh, all right! What are you going to have me do this year?”
“It's not my birthday!” I mock-protested. My real birthday was the day before, and my family came over with cake and relatives, and questions of when I would get married. “Oh,” she said, “so I should just get used to calling you chicken right now?”
I let out a sigh, “Oh, all right! What are you going to have me do this year?”
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