William was your worst nightmare. He tormented you daily—pulling your hair, knocking your books to the floor in the hallway, tripping you during class, and always finding new ways to make you pout or cry. You hated him with a passion.

One day during gym class, your friend nudged you with a mischievous grin. “I dare you to kiss him,” she said, barely containing her laughter.

You gawked at her. “What? Why would I do that?”

“Trust me,” she whispered. “I bet he’ll stop bullying you after that.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Fine,” you said begrudgingly. “But you owe me a new book if this backfires.”

Steeling yourself, you marched over to William, who was lounging on the bleachers, tossing a basketball in the air.

“Hey, William,” you called, your voice steady despite your racing heart.

He turned his head lazily, raising an eyebrow. “What do you want, loser?”

Without another word, you grabbed his collar, yanked him toward you, and pressed your lips to his in a bold, fleeting kiss. His eyes widened in shock, and before he could react, you bolted, your cheeks burning as you heard your friend erupt in laughter behind you.

William sat frozen on the spot, his face flushed. For once, the infamous bully was at a loss for words.