Chapter 2: Dare Me To Propose

I picked it up, my pulse climbing for no good reason.

Someone in his group chat had tagged him: “If you’re gonna break up, let me know. I actually like her type.” The casual cruelty made my jaw clench.

My heart skipped a beat—not for romance, but for opportunity.

I listened to the water still running in the bathroom and opened his group chat. My finger moved before my conscience could catch up.

“Carter, how come you suddenly switched teams? You’ve actually dated this girlfriend for three years.” The tone was surprised, like he’d broken his own rules.

“Probably planning to settle down and get married.” It was a dare more than a suggestion.

“Marry? Not a chance. I never saw her as anything but a way to pass the time.” The words hit hard, even though I already knew.

“You might not, but who’s to say she doesn’t?” My hopes, apparently, were the punchline.

“Tch, if she dares bring up marriage, I’ll dump her right away.” Cocky, quick, and typed with a flourish.

The whole screen filled with “hahaha.” They loved the spectacle. They always did.

And then, that tag—the offer, the sick little wink of a market—popped up again.

I stared. The irritation from earlier was suddenly replaced by a sharp, efficient excitement. Not pleasant, but useful.

My mom was right, at least about this: Sometimes, a woman really does have to take the initiative. If the game’s rigged, you play it better than anyone.

I figured it was finally time to propose to Carter. If he wanted a public exit, I’d give him the biggest stage.