Dare to Fall (Dare To Love #2)

Chapter 1

Harper

“This one isn’t working either.”

I tug at the zipper of this champagne-colored gown and catch Ivy’s eye in the boutique mirror. She’s perched on the velvet bench beside Olivia, both of them watching me with the patience only genuine friends possess after enduring thirty-plus dress changes without complaint.

“It’s pretty,” Ivy offers, tilting her head.

“Pretty isn’t enough.” I twist toward the mirror, studying my reflection. The dress is classy. Sophisticated. But it doesn’t pop. It doesn’t demand attention, or turn heads, or make anyone stop mid-conversation to stare.

And that’s the problem.

“You look beautiful, Harp.” Olivia says between sips of her iced coffee.

“Beautiful doesn’t cut it,” I mutter, smoothing the fabric over my hips. “I need unforgettable.”

Because if I’m going to walk into The North Texas Education Gala in three weeks and face Collin for the first time since he ended things, I need more than beautiful.

I need a dress that makes him question every decision he’s ever made.

I need him to see what he walked away from—not just the surface, but the woman who would have stood by him, who would have chosen him over and over.

I need him to feel the loss, to wonder if letting me go was the biggest mistake of his life.

Ivy stands, moving behind me to help with the stubborn zipper. Her fingers are gentle as she tugs it the rest of the way up. “Harper, you know this gala isn’t really about Collin, right? It’s about the kids. Raising money for after-school programs, getting new books in classrooms—”

“I know, I know.” I turn back to the mirror, tugging at the neckline of the champagne dress.

I let out a breath. This gala was supposed to be simple.

Collin and I had talked about going together for months—it’s the biggest fundraiser of the year for our district, the type of event that actually gets measurable results for after-school programs, new books in classrooms, the things my kids need and never quite have enough of.

I’d been excited about it, genuinely. And then Collin happened, and now I’m standing in this boutique in Downtown Dallas in a dress that makes me look like a hotel curtain, trying to remember why I cared in the first place.

“This really isn’t the one, is it?” I turn back to the mirror.

“Definitely not,” Olivia says. “Too safe.”

“Safe,” I echo, and the word tastes bitter.

Collin was safe.

No questionable past, no red flags that would make my father raise an eyebrow over Sunday dinner.

My parents didn’t just like Collin—they loved him.

My mother asked about him on every phone call; my father actually smiled when he walked through the door.

He was everything they wanted for me, everything they thought I needed.

He checked every box on their list, even though I was realizing he didn’t check all of mine.

Why do I feel the need to play it safe? Being the obedient daughter. Dating a respectable man. Checking all the boxes on my parents’ perfect checklist.

And where did that get me?

Dumped during dessert at a restaurant where the wine list cost more than my rent, while other diners pretended not to notice my world falling apart over white tablecloths and candlelight.

“I cannot show up to this gala alone,” I say, more to myself than to them. “Not when Collin is going to be there.”

There. I said it.

The real reason I’m drowning in tulle and silk on a Tuesday afternoon in February.

The real reason I’ve been spiraling for the past two months.

I can’t let him see me still single, still stuck exactly where he left me.

I can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that dumping me over dessert actually hurt.

“So, what’s the plan?” Olivia asks gently. “Find a date in three weeks?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice small. “I just... I need someone. Anyone who can help me walk in there looking like I’ve moved on. Like I’m fine. Like I don’t need him.”

Silence.

Not regular silence. Scheming silence.

I catch their reflections in the mirror—Ivy and Olivia exchanging one of those looks that says they’re having an entire conversation without words. One that makes my stomach drop.

“What?” I ask, suspicious now.

“Nothing,” Ivy says too quickly, but her lips are twitching as if she’s fighting a smile.

I narrow my eyes at both of them. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?” Olivia asks, all innocent.

“That thing where you two plot something without including me. I can literally see it happening.”

They exchange another glance, and this time they don’t even try to hide their grins.

My stomach twists. “Oh no. Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”

“We haven’t even said anything yet,” Ivy protests.

“You don’t have to. I know that look.”

Behind me, that scheming silence returns. I catch Ivy leaning toward Olivia in the mirror’s reflection, whispering something that makes Olivia’s eyes light up.

“Okay, seriously,” I spin around. “What are you two—”

“We dare you to ask Micah to be your date to the gala,” Ivy blurts out, her grin spreading like wildfire.

My whole body goes rigid. The champagne fabric suddenly feels too tight. “Excuse me?”

“You heard us.” Olivia straightens, matching Ivy’s smile.

“Absolutely not.” The words come out faster than I can think them. “Are you insane?”

“Think about it—” Ivy starts.

“I don’t need to think about it. The answer is no.”

“He’s perfect for this,” Olivia presses. “Single, good-looking. Respectable—”

“Micah makes everything weird,” I cut in, crossing my arms. “Existing in his presence is weird.”

Ivy’s grin widens. “He’s funny.”

“Dad jokes are not funny. They’re torture.”

“He’s trustworthy,” Olivia continues.

“So are serial killers until they’re not.”

Olivia snorts into her coffee. “Micah’s not a serial killer, Harper.”

“He once set the church parking lot on fire with a grill,” I counter, jabbing a finger at them.

“That was an accident—” Ivy protests.

“A grill, Olivia. An outdoor grill. How do you even manage that?”

“He’s single,” Ivy cuts in, using that patient voice she reserves for when she thinks I’m being stubborn. “He cleans up nice. He’s safe. And most importantly, Collin barely knows him.”

That stops me cold.

My arms drop slightly. “What?”

“Think about it,” Ivy continues, stepping closer.

“Yeah, Collin met him once at our Christmas thing, but he has no idea who Micah really is. He doesn’t know about the dad jokes or the awkwardness, or the church parking lot fire.

All Collin will see is you walking in on the arm of a good-looking guy. ”

Olivia slips into full therapist mode now. “And when Collin sees you with someone like Micah? He’ll instantly want you back. That’s how men work. They don’t value what they have until someone else has it.”

My pulse kicks up. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Olivia says with complete confidence.

I turn back to the mirror, my mind racing.

Micah.

Micah, who runs the entire children’s ministry at New Chapter Church without fail.

Micah, who shows up when someone’s moving and actually lifts the heavy boxes instead of pretending to carry the pillows.

Micah, who fixes things that don’t belong to him just because he can’t stand to see them broken.

Micah, who’s...annoyingly decent.

And yes, fine. He’s good-looking. More than good-looking. Broad shoulders, an easy smile, hair that somehow always looks like he just rolled out of bed, but in that unfair shampoo-commercial way. And those thick-framed glasses? Half nerd, half heartthrob, and wholly unfair.

Put him in a suit and tie, and even Collin would do a double-take.

Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.

The idea settles over me slowly, piece by piece clicking into place.

All Collin would see is me, looking stunning, on the arm of another man.

A nice-looking man.

I could convince Collin that I’ve moved on. That I’m fine. That I don’t need him.

Even if none of it’s true.

But then reality crashes back in.

Micah. The guy who thinks puns are peak comedy. The guy who can recite every VeggieTales episode by heart and considers it a professional skill as the children’s ministry director. The guy who unironically wears socks with sandals and sees nothing wrong with it.

I’d have to ride in the car alone with him—trapped in close quarters with nowhere to escape.

Introduce him to everyone as my date; watch him shake hands and charm people with that calm smile of his.

Laugh at his dad jokes all night. Smile through his overly enthusiastic commentary about everything from the appetizers to the centerpieces.

Pretend to find it endearing when he inevitably makes some terrible pun about “raising the steaks” at a fundraiser.

And worse—I’d have to pretend to like him.

Actually like him. Gaze up at him adoringly like he hung the moon.

Let him hold my hand, his fingers laced through mine.

Lean into him when we pose for photos. Act like his presence doesn’t make me want to simultaneously roll my eyes and scream into a pillow.

Would people expect us to kiss?

I shake off the thought immediately. No. Absolutely not. That definitely cannot happen.

I’d need to set some serious ground rules before agreeing to any of this.

I don’t know if pretending for an entire evening is even physically possible.

I straighten my spine, suddenly hyperaware of how boring this champagne dress really is—and how insane this entire plan sounds.

“Over my dead body,” I say, but even I can hear the wavering in my voice.

Ivy’s smile turns triumphant. “Too late. We already dared you.”

“You can’t just—”

“You know the rules, Harp.” Olivia folds her arms, her expression serious now. “None of us has ever turned down a dare. Not once.”

My jaw clenches. She’s right.