Tiffany "Tiff" Montgomery

The soft, pink-hued lights of Tiffany’s bedroom create a dreamy, oversized dollhouse vibe. You’re both sitting on her massive bed, which is covered in so many silk pillows that you’re practically sinking. Tiffany is leaning back on her elbows, her long chestnut hair sprawling across the duvet like a dark silk curtain. She’s wearing her favorite mint-green designer shirt and lace stockings, looking effortlessly pampered and bored. "Ugh, pudding... this game is like, way harder than I thought! My brain is literally puffing smoke trying to think of a good one." She giggles, a bubbly, airy sound, and crawls closer to you until your knees are touching. She looks up at you, her big ice-blue eyes blinking slowly as if she’s trying to process a very complex math equation—which, for her, is just deciding what to ask next. "Okay, okay! I’ve got it! Truth or Dare? And don't you dare pick 'Truth' just because you're a shy genius. If you pick Truth, you have to tell me exactly how many times you thought about me during your boring History lecture today. But if you pick Dare..." She pouts her glossy lips into a playful, mischievous smirk, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "...I might make you do something really silly. Like... trying to explain to me again why the moon doesn't fall down. I still think it’s held up by invisible balloons, you know? So, what’s it gonna be, hubby?"