The Dare

Which I can only take to mean I’ve managed to ruin Taylor, too. It’s nothing more than what I expected would happen. Exactly what I deserve. Can’t keep spraying perfume on the pile of crap and pretending it doesn’t stink.

I wanted to call her. I drove to Taylor’s apartment after the beach last weekend but couldn’t make myself go inside. I couldn’t lie to her face again and tell her everything’s fine. I’d rather have her think I’m just another asshole jock than know what I really am.

We’ve met up a couple times since then, grabbing coffee between classes on campus, but I’ve avoided her place and haven’t asked her over to mine. The coffee dates are already awkward enough, a solid hour where I can’t think of anything to say and she’s afraid to scare me off. And every text she sends wondering what’s wrong drives the knife a little deeper.

If I were a better person I’d tell her the truth. I’d come clean and let her look at me with those beautiful turquoise eyes full of betrayal and disgust. Let her call me a pathetic loser and watch her finally understand what I’d been too chickenshit to tell her all along: that she deserves better.

TAYLOR: You wanna come over tonight?

 

 

But I’m a coward. I keep telling myself that once I get rid of Kai, things with me and Taylor can go back to normal. I’ll make an excuse and she’ll reluctantly forgive me and then I can spend the next month winning her back.

Except every time I see the question mark at the end of her messages it gets harder to imagine facing her again.

Another text flashes on my screen. This time, it’s from Kai.

KAI: You’re wasting time…

 

 

I turn the phone over so I don’t have to look at the screen anymore. It’s Monday morning and I shouldn’t still be lying in bed. My philosophy lecture starts in less than an hour. Although I’m doing plenty of philosophizing in my head, so maybe I should just skip. Too much introspection can’t be good for the soul.

I stare up at my bedroom ceiling and draw a ragged breath. Then I drag my lazy ass out of bed and force myself to get dressed.

My phone vibrates again and I pretend not to notice. It’s either Taylor or Kai. Or maybe my mom.

Right now the only person it hurts more to disappoint than Taylor is my mother. I can’t call her asking for that kind of money. I thought I could muster up the balls to call Max directly, feed him some bullshit story about one of my teammates getting into trouble and not wanting to worry Mom about it. Or I could say I wrecked someone’s car. But then I pictured the face he’d make.

Hitting him up for cash would only provide him with more confirmation of what he’d always believed about me: that I was trash, always would be trash, and no amount of money, distance, or education would change that.

So I have no choice. After class, I show up at Hunter’s place and tell him we need to talk.

Demi’s on the couch beside him, shooting me laser eyes. I’ve interrupted them watching some crime documentary on TV, but I know that’s not why she’s glowering at me.

“Don’t tell Taylor I’m here,” I ask her, my voice rough. “Please.”

She inhales and rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to tell you what to do—”

“Good,” I say, then turn on my heel and duck into the kitchen, where I grab a beer from the fridge.

“But you shouldn’t string her along,” Demi finishes the second I return to the living room.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m not.”

“Does she know that?”

I assume it’s a rhetorical question, and if it’s not, doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to talk to Demi about Taylor.

I take a long swig of the beer and nod at an uncomfortable-looking Hunter. “Can we talk in your room?”

“Sure.”

“I like Taylor!” Demi calls after me as I follow Hunter to the doorway. “Put on your big-boy pants and make things right with her, Conor Edwards.”

“Sorry,” a rueful Hunter says as his girl continues to chastise me when I’m not even in the room.

In Hunter’s bedroom, he takes a seat at his desk while I lean against the door, picking at the label on my bottle. He knows me well enough to get something’s up. Hunter’s my best friend on the team. Hell, probably my best friend anywhere. A week ago, Taylor was right there next to him.

“What’s going on?” he asks, watching me for clues. “This about you and Taylor?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s the deal there? Demi keeps asking if you two broke up, and I don’t know what to tell her other than to mind her business, but you know Demi. She’ll bite my nuts off before she lets me tell her what to do.”

“No, haven’t broken up.” Though it’s getting harder to see much difference. “It’s nothing to do with Taylor. It’s, uhh…” I trail off, suddenly feeling foolish.

This is harder than I thought it’d be. Hunter is my only out. His family’s loaded—the kind of loaded that makes Max’s mansion look like the servant’s quarters—and he’s got access to money.

The whole way over here, I thought I could be cool about it, casual. Hey man, spot me a few Gs. No biggie. But this hurts. I don’t think I’ve been so humiliated in my life, so completely demoralized. Still, I’ve got no choice. It’s this, or let Kai tell Max what I did.

And I can’t do that to my mom.

“Con. You’re freaking me out a little. What’s going on?”

I push away from the door, needing to keep my feet moving, like they’re powering my brain. “Look, I’m gonna be straight with you. I need ten grand and I can’t tell you why. I promise I’m not into it with a loan shark or moving drugs or anything. There’s just this thing I gotta take care of and I can’t go to my family. I wouldn’t come to you if I had any other choice.” I drop to the edge of his bed and sit, dragging my hands through my hair. “I promise I’ll pay you back. To be honest it probably won’t be quickly, but I’ll get you every dime if it takes me the rest of my life.”

“Okay.” Hunter looks at the floor. He’s sort of nodding, like there’s a time delay between the words leaving my mouth and him. “And you didn’t kill anybody.”

He’s taking this better than I expected.

“I swear.”

“You’re not skipping the country,” he says. “Right?”

I won’t lie—the thought has crossed my mind. But no. “Staying put.”

He shrugs. “Cool.”

Before I can blink, Hunter digs around in one of his desk drawers for a checkbook. I sit there, stunned, as he fills one out to Cash. “Here you go.”

Just like that, he hands it to me. Ten grand. Four zeros.

I’m such an ass.

“I can’t tell you how much you’ve saved me.” The sense of relief is instant, the remorse even quicker. I hate myself for this. But not enough to not fold the check up and stick it in my wallet. “I’m sorry about this. You—”

“Con, it’s all good. We’re teammates. I’ve always got your back.”