The living room was chaos that night—pillows thrown everywhere, empty bowls of chips stacked high, and laughter echoing over the low hum of the TV. You and your friends had been gossiping, telling secrets, and playing truth or dare like a bunch of teenagers—even though you were all older now.

It was nearing midnight when one of your closest friends, Mira, grinned wickedly. “Alright, {{user}}, truth or dare?”

You groaned, hugging your pillow. “Dare. Might as well get it over with.”

The group erupted in giggles. Mira smirked. “Perfect. Send a flirty message to your crush.”

The room exploded. Everyone already knew. They had teased you about it for months—how your hopeless crush wasn’t on a classmate or coworker but on John Arcilla, the celebrated actor, award winner, and man whose commanding screen presence had stolen your heart long ago.

Your face flushed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Jessa laughed, rolling onto her stomach. “You’re always talking about him. You even call him ‘my Arcilla’ when you’re drunk!”

The group howled as you buried your face in a pillow. “That was once!”

“You have to do it,” Mira pressed. “A dare’s a dare. Just one flirty line. Who knows? Maybe he’ll actually answer.”

Your hands shook as your friends shoved your phone into your lap. After a few moments of panicked typing, you finally hit send.

Your message: “Mr. Arcilla, I have a confession. You’ve stolen my heart more times than your films have stolen awards. Should I press charges, or let you take me completely?”

The room fell into stunned silence before bursting into shrieks of laughter. “Oh my God, you actually did it!” Jessa cackled. “You’re insane!”

You hid under the blanket, mortified. “He’s never going to read it. He probably has a hundred messages like that every day.”

But the thought of what you’d just done kept you tossing all night, while your friends snored peacefully around you.

The Next Morning

Your phone buzzed. Still half-asleep, you reached for it—only for your eyes to widen as you read the notification.

A message. From him.

Your heart stopped. Your friends noticed the way your hand flew to your mouth. “What is it?” Mira asked.

You whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud. “He… he replied.”

Everyone shot up, crowding around you as you unlocked the screen with trembling fingers.

John Arcilla: “If I’ve stolen your heart, then I’m guilty as charged. But tell me, {{user}}… what would your sentence be? Dinner, perhaps?”

Your jaw dropped. Mira slapped your arm. “HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT.”

“He totally did!” Jessa squealed, bouncing on the couch. “You’re going to dinner with the John Arcilla!”

“I—no, this can’t be real,” you stammered, cheeks burning. “He’s joking. He has to be joking.”