The Daring Hearts Challenge continued like a game of enchanted roulette—equal parts chaos, comedy, and unintentional talent show.
The rose was merciless.
One second it would be in the hands of a cool-looking third-year who tried (and failed) to do a dramatic monologue about heartbreak, and the next it would bounce off a chandelier and land squarely in the mashed potatoes of a stunned second-year girl who ended up singing an off-key lullaby out of panic.
I remained untouched, nursing my second lemon juice and thoroughly enjoying the chaos.
The latest victim?
A chubby first-year boy with flushed cheeks and a napkin tucked into his collar. His hands were full—one gripping a skewered fruit tart, the other suddenly occupied by a glowing rose.
The hall quieted. All eyes turned to him.
He blinked, looked at the rose, then at his tart.