I Dare You

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  He-Man, I’ve been thinking…I need to know who you are, I send.

  Why? Don’t you like being anonymous? Don’t you think we’re opening up to each other more?

  Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.

  I get nothing but silence in return. My hands clench my phone, waiting to see those telltale little dots, but he isn’t responding.

  Why doesn’t he want to tell me? Is it someone I hate? Is it Alex with a burner phone? Is it Maverick?

  I take a deep breath and text, Are you a football player?

  Yes.

  My heart flips over. Is He-Man really Maverick? God, I want it to be.

  I don’t do football players anymore, I text.

  You’d do me. It’s going to happen.

  I squirm in my seat as a bolt of electricity zips through me and my entire body heats up. My skin gets goose bumps, and I know it’s because I’m picturing Maverick on the other end of this conversation.

  You’re cocky, I send, my fingers sweaty.

  I know when a woman wants me, and I want you too, Princess Leia. I have for a long time.

  I want to ask more, but I’m scared of…dammit, I don’t even know. Being hurt? Being lied to?

  I spend the next minute staring intently at my phone, trying to think of a response, and I’m still staring when Skye gets back from the restroom. I finally put my phone away when Tyler arrives, along with my blind date.

  An hour later, I’ve met Bobby Gene and we’ve finished a round of beers and a plate of cheese fries. Handsome with a lopsided grin and cropped brown hair, he’s rather engaging. He’s made me giggle with his talk of growing up on a pig farm in Iowa, but He-Man is all I can think about.

  Each minute I’m here with Bobby Gene feels like an hour, and I’m anxious to get home and text him so we can figure things out.

  But is there really anything to figure out?

  How can I ever trust a football player again?

  My phone rings, surprising me, and I battle down a sneeze when I see He-Man’s name on the screen.

  “Who’s He-Man?” Bobby Gene asks, leaning over and peering down at my phone where I left it sitting on the table.

  “Just a friend,” I say.

  “Well, you gonna get it?” he asks with a grin. He’s obviously easygoing and doesn’t seem perturbed that I have someone calling me while I’m on a date.

  I pick up the phone, excitement curling. “Hello?”

  “Hey, I thought you might need a rescue phone call.” I can’t make out the voice because he’s whispering, but it heats every inch of my skin.

  I’m talking to He-Man! I want to shout it out to everyone, but that would be weird, so I don’t. Instead, I clear my throat, injecting concern into my tone. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

  “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Oh, no. What happened?” I infuse my voice with drama.

  “Truth: I was studying and kept thinking about you on your date. Does it suck? Is he ugly? An asshole?”

  I glance over at Bobby Gene, who grins.

  “No,” I say, and I get silence from the other end.

  “You mean you like him?” There’s an incredulous tone to his voice.

  I do like Bobby Gene—as a friend—but I can’t answer something so specific with the detail it needs. Too many people are listening to me.

  Skye is shooting me a quizzical look, and Tyler is eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Uh, yeah? It’s great,” I answer.

  There are several ticks of silence, and I imagine I can feel his unhappiness with my response.

  “Are you still there?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.

  “Yes. I shouldn’t have called you. Obviously I’ve interrupted a good time. Have fun on your date.”

  Click. He ends the call without even saying goodbye, and I’m surprised.

  “I’m so sorry. That’s just terrible!” I say to the silence, clutching the phone tighter as I lean over the table. “Yes, of course, I’ll go home and call her right away and let you know.”

  I get off the phone and send a regretful look at Bobby Gene. “Sorry, my aunt is sick—”

  “But aren’t you from Charlotte?” Tyler asks, a slight curl to his lips. Skye is giving me a pointed look, and I know she knows I’m trying to get out of the date.

  I blink. Oh, God. Lies truly are a sticky web.

  “Yeah, but I just need to check in on her, not actually catch a plane to go see her.” I try to sell the lie again. “I should go home and call her.” There, it’s final: I am a terrible person.

  Bobby Gene, bless his heart, gives me a shoulder squeeze, and I feel even worse. “I got ’cha. They don’t have to be direct family to be important to you. Maybe we can get coffee and donuts sometime?”

  Coffee and donuts?

  Bobby Gene just went up another notch on my like list.

  I agree and we exchange numbers. With a hasty goodbye and a bit of a glare from Skye, I exit Buffalo Bills and head for the house.

  It’s not until I’m home and lying on the couch with Han on my chest, purring in my ear like a motorboat that I decide to text him.

  I’m home, I say.

  Alone?

  Yeah. You?

  Always, he says.

  Were you jealous tonight?

  Yes.

  I stare at the one-word response, my stomach jittery with excitement even though my head is yelling at me that he’s a football player.

  Biting my lip, I change the topic. This is random, but do you like cats?

  I’m more of a dog guy.

  We can never text again, I quickly type out and send.

  Okay, fine, I like them—just for you, Princess Leia.

  A pang strikes my heart. He’s just…perfect. Everything he says makes me feel fluttery inside, and even though my head is warning me, my heart wants to put a face to the code name of the person I’ve been texting with.

  But for now…I wait.

  Good night, He-Man.

  As you wish.

  Delaney

  Me: If you had a pair of X-ray glasses, what part of my body would you look at first?

  He-Man: Collarbone.

  Me: LIAR.

  He-Man: Fine, fine, you win. I like big tits and I cannot lie. But I do like collarbones too.

  Me: Ha. All guys are the same.

  He-Man: Fine. What would YOU look at?

  Me: I’d look at He-Man’s sword, of course.

  He-Man: Trust me, it’s pretty fucking magnificent.

  Me: Wanna send me a pic?

  He-Man: Just to clarify, the quiet and reserved Delaney Shaw is asking me for a dick pic?

  Me: It sounds bad when you put it like that…

  He-Man: I’d rather show you in person, Princess Leia.

  Me: Oh.

  Can’t never could is what my Nana always said and I’m saying that in my head over and over as I shelve books on the third floor a few days later. I’m beat from a long day of volunteering at the cat shelter and now I’m stuck in The Dead Zone of the library, where few roam unless they’re doing serious research. At least I have last night’s texting with He-Man to think about, which had gotten very sexy before I’d finally let him go.

  The next book to shelve is a huge three-inch atlas that weighs a ton. I drag the stepladder from the wall over to the metal shelves so I can reach to the top where it belongs. Once I climb up and clear the shelf, I have a clear view of most of the floor.

  I’m about to turn and come down when two guys come up the stairs and onto the third floor, the echoes of their hushed voices carrying across to me. My heart leaps—damn heart—when I see Maverick walking next to Ryker, Waylon’s quarterback.

  Maverick’s eyes look up and capture mine—he must have some kind of secret power that detects female attention—and takes me in, hovering above the shelf like a crazy person. He sends me a wave and I smirk.

  Ryker taps him on the shoulder to pul
l his direction toward one of the study areas to the left, but Maverick nods his head at me and walks in my direction. Ryker follows.

  Shit! They’re coming over.

  My hair’s in a ponytail and my glasses askew, and I hurriedly pat down the crazy stray strands and straighten my frames. I wish I had time to grab my lipstick, but of course, it’s in my purse on the first floor.

  “Hey,” Maverick says as he turns the corner. He’s holding a book and smiling, looking pleased as punch to see me, and it takes my breath a little.

  I blink up at him, taking in the finely carved jawline and bitable lips.

  Just. Damn.

  He’s gorgeous and it pisses me off that it makes me melt into a puddle of goo.

  I stuff that behind me and give him a nonchalant shrug, keeping my expression easy and not at all like I didn’t nearly break my neck getting off the ladder. “Hey.”

  “You working?”

  “Obviously.”

  His lips twitch. “You sound excited.”

  “I’m not. What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Just roaming the library.”

  “Why?”

  He tilts his head, studying me. “Why not?”

  “It’s a bit late for mind games, Maverick.” I look down at the cart full of books I still have to shelve. “And I have work to do.”

  “Maybe I was looking for you. I can help if you want?”

  My eyes flare. Damn. Why does he have to be so sweet sometimes? “That’s okay.”

  He gazes around at the shelving, taking in the empty tables and then focuses back on me. “This would be a great place to hook-up. Ever consider it?”

  I roll my eyes. “Scoping out future make-out places? Please, for the sake of the books, leave the library out of your pound town itinerary.”

  He throws up a cocky eyebrow. “I like the dim lighting and all the shelves. Good coverage in case someone comes up.”

  My face colors, picturing him with some pretty co-ed.

  He grins. “Would you be jealous if I hooked up with someone here?”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous,” I say. Yes.

  He studies me, eyes at half-mast. “Okay, fine, Delaney. I’ll never hook-up with anyone in the library…unless it’s you.”

  My mouth opens and I’m about to say something really witty and smart—although I can’t think of a damn thing—when Ryker turns the corner. I guess something must have caught his eye on the way over and that’s why he lagged behind.

  Obviously, Maverick has impeccable timing.

  The quarterback gives me a nod. “Ah, Delaney. Surprise, surprise.”

  Is he being facetious?

  Because he doesn’t sound surprised. He sounds cryptic and a little pleased with himself if that makes sense. I squint at him, reminding myself to play back this conversation later.

  “Hey, Ryker,” I say, giving him a nod. “We rarely get people on the third floor, so…welcome?” I hold my hands out.

  Ryker looks around. “Yeah. It’s dead up here. Great place for a hook-up.”

  I shake my head. “Oh my God. Is that all guys think about?”

  “Yeah,” they say in unison.

  “Typical,” I say with a laugh.

  Almost as if he knows I’m putting up my internal defenses against him, Maverick takes a step closer and picks at a spot on the shoulder of my black shirt. Butterflies take off inside me as his index finger and thumb press together on the fabric to grab a white hair.

  “What’s this?” he asks.

  Swallowing, I look down at his hand and clear my throat. “Cat hair. I got in the kitten tent today at the shelter and they crawled all over me. Super adorable. I’d love to bring one home but Han would flip his lid.”

  Ryker takes a full two steps back from me, his eyes wide. “You rolled around with cats?”

  “Well, not literally, but yeah. It’s very therapeutic. Are you allergic?”

  He nods.

  “That’s awful.” I grimace.

  He waves me off. “No worries. I’ll just stand over here so I don’t breathe it in. That way you guys can chat.” He finds a spot about ten feet away and pretends to look at a book. I say pretend because it’s a reference book about rivers in South America and I can’t imagine why he’d be interested, but who knows.

  It’s almost as if they planned on seeing me…

  I turn back to Maverick who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. “I’m completely non-allergic to cats,” he tells me.

  “Why should I care?” I’m being bratty, but his cockiness brings it out in me.

  He isn’t fazed and plucks another hair off me, this time around the neckline of my shirt. His fingers brush my collarbone and I inhale sharply, remembering the texting convo about collarbones with He-Man. “You’re really covered in these.” My chest rises rapidly, and he grins, leaving me convinced the man is the devil.

  I’m saved just as I hear Skye talking. We’d made plans to meet after my shift and grab a drink at Buffalo Bills before we head home. She’s probably on her way up here to keep me company until I’m done.

  I hear her talking to someone as she calls out my name rather tentatively, which is odd, and I’m wondering who’s with her. It sounds like a guy, but not Tyler…

  Alex and Skye appear from around the corner of the shelf and I start, stiffening.

  What the hell is she doing with him?

  With a sheepish expression on her face, she clears her throat and waves at everyone. “Hey, y’all.”

  I’m frowning as my gaze goes from her to Alex.

  She nods, reading my expression. “Ah, yeah. Alex saw me on the staircase on my way up and wanted to talk…” Her voice drifts off.

  Ah, I fill in the rest. She couldn’t tell him to buzz off. She’s too nice and she’d probably done her best to dissuade him.

  Alex’s eyes are measuring the space between Maverick and me, which admittedly is just a few inches.

  “What are you doing up here?” he asks Maverick.

  Maverick straightens, his back going stiff. “It is the library. People do come here to study. What are you doing here?”

  Alex taps his hand against his thighs and juts out his jaw. “Studying. Same as you.”

  “I don’t see any books, kicker,” Maverick says.

  A spot of red appears on Alex’s cheeks. “I left them on the first floor—since you’re so interested.”

  “Huh. Maybe you should go get them.”

  Alex’s face hardens. “Why? Am I interrupting anything between you and Delaney?”

  Jesus take the wheel. They are both crazy.

  I hold my hands up. “Hang on a minute—”

  “Yeah,” Ryker says, interrupting me. He’s put down the reference book and has joined us, his brow pulled low in a scowl as he takes in the back and forth between the two. “We don’t need any trouble here, guys.”

  Skye takes Alex by the arm. “Why don’t we head back downstairs?”

  Alex pulls his gaze from Maverick and looks down at her, a slight softening in his face. “Sure. Sounds good.” He sends me a resigned expression. “Bye, Delaney.”

  They turn to go and Skye gives me an I’m sorry look over her shoulder as they walk away.

  “Dude. Not cool or subtle,” Ryker says to Maverick as soon as they are out of earshot. “Did you have to be a dick?”

  Maverick’s nose flares. “He was a dick first.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a leader,” Ryker tells him. “The team needs you to show everyone else how to act.”

  Maverick lets out a long exhale, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

  Hang on a minute. Maverick is jealous of Alex? I’m about to remark on it, but he brushes past me, his tall frame stalking off. Part of me wants to call him back, but pride and all.

  I look at Ryker and raise my hands up. “What’s going on?”

  “If you can’t see what’s right in front of you…” He shrugs. “Later, babe.”

  And
then he’s walking off but not before turning around for one more comment. “Just do me a favor, okay? Don’t hurt him. He’s been through enough already.”

  My heart drops at the thought of hurting Maverick. Of course I wouldn’t.

  Delaney

  The cafeteria in the student center is loud with the sounds of clanging dishes and students’ voices. I’m not here to eat, just to grab a soda before I head upstairs to my first salsa lesson.

  I get to the register, pay for my Coke, and then head for the exit. My eyes can’t help but wander to the far left corner table near the windows where the football players usually sit in a huddle. I come to a stop when blue eyes meet mine. A flash of awareness washes over me as Maverick rakes his gaze up and down.

  A small smile tilts up the side of his mouth, and it infuriates me that he seems to know he makes my body do crazy things. He’d acted jealous of Alex in The Dead Zone a few days ago but neither of us has mentioned it since. I guess we’ve decided to let it go.

  Miss Brunette—the same one from class—approaches his table and plops down in the seat next to him. Her hands snake around his bicep as she looks up at him adoringly.

  I feel the eye roll coming, and instead of stopping myself, I let him see it.

  There you go, folks: further proof that football players are magnets for floozies.

  I tip my soda at him and he smirks, as if saying, I can’t help it if women love me.

  You’re so full of shit, my face says back.

  He gives me a full-blown grin before looking over at her with that distant smile, the one I know isn’t authentic. He leans in and says something to her, and she looks crestfallen.

  He turns back to me and stands.

  He mouths something, and it looks like Wait for me.

  I glance around to make sure he means me, and the only person near me is a cafeteria worker in a white jumpsuit. Looking back at him, I point to myself, just to confirm.

  He nods and makes his way along the tables, weaving through players and girls and the general maze that is our cafeteria.

  My body draws up in anxiety. I’m not ready to deal with Maverick and his intensity, so I do what I do best.

  I bolt.

  I have somewhere to be anyway.