Truce or Dare (Sweet Fortuity Book 1)

by Grayson, Rica

  He only looked more amused. “It bothers you that much, running with me?”

  He was starting to get on my nerves, and I hadn’t even spent five minutes with him.

  “It doesn’t bother me exactly,” I mumbled, finding myself a little defensive.

  “Hmm.”

  He didn’t believe me. I kept running a bit further, as if I had something to prove.

  Chase didn’t disappoint. He went right along with me, matching my pace, and he didn’t even look winded.

  I slowed down to a walk after an hour. “I’m hungry,” I said all of a sudden.

  “Bacon and eggs?” he offered.

  Heck, why not? We were both hungry.

  * * *

  It was pretty quiet, but not awkward like I expected. It was like we’d both developed an understanding, both afraid to speak and rattle our fragile relationship.

  As I was finished eating, I saw that he pushed another piece of bread on my plate. I smacked his hand away, but I was too late.

  “I’m not–”

  “Yes, you’re not eating nearly enough,” he said smoothly.

  Argh.

  “I eat just fine.”

  Five minutes later, his phone rang.

  “I gotta go,” he told me when his phone call ended.

  “Oh.” Why was that one word loaded with disappointment? I hated that I heard it in my voice.

  His eyes warmed as he told me, “Let me know whenever you need a running partner.”

  Maybe I was going crazy, because I was tempted to take him up on his offer.

  * * *

  I didn’t understand. We had perfectly good weather this morning. Then it decides to do this.

  I didn’t mind the dark. But I was alone, in a large house, with the power knocked out. So I was alone, it was dark, and it was like the wind threatened to break the windows. I was also convinced there was a ghost out to get me, hiding in the space between the curtains and the windows.

  I was terrified.

  Kate didn’t answer.

  Sierra lived a bit further, Eva even further from me. To call or not to call?

  My finger hovered on my contact in the list, just before Eva.

  I saw the flash of lightning again, and the thunder made me jump. And I accidentally pressed his name.

  Shit.

  No, no, no.

  I canceled, panicking. Seconds later, his name blinked on my phone screen, calling me.

  I answered. “Chase,” I said, sounding a little breathless.

  “Sherr,” he said, his deep voice washing over me. “Something wrong?”

  “I– It’s nothing.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded strained. “I didn’t mean to call.”

  He clued in to my state. “Where’s Haley? Are you alone?”

  “She’s on the night shift today. Paula went to visit her aunt, she’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I’ll come over.” It surprised me, the offer, and the way he made it without hesitation.

  “Oh no. No. No, you don’t need–”

  “I won’t be long. Just came back from Wes’.”

  “Chase. That’s not–”

  “I’ll see you.”

  He hung up. That was the second time he ended the call before I gave him a piece of my mind. Argh.

  * * *

  There was a knock on the door– two successive raps. I ran to it in a rush, and peeked in the hole. Chase.

  Suddenly, my heart started racing. He was here. Just because of a single phone call.

  “Hi,” I said, opening it a little.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, still trying to absorb the fact that he even came at all. I stood there, both a little shocked and relieved to see him.

  “You didn’t have to come,” I began. “But I appreciate it.”

  The smile reached his eyes, and the effect made my heart stutter.

  Clearing his throat, which drew my attention to it, damn him, he said,“It’s cold out here.”

  “Oh!” I opened the door wider, letting him in, my cheeks probably reddening. I mumbled an apology.

  He looked amused, as he held up a huge heavy duty flashlight, and on another hand he held a plastic bag.

  Light!

  Anyone who brought light was my friend. Anyone who made me feel not alone in this house was my friend.

  “Bought some from Abe’s today. Didn’t exactly buy it expecting this, but–”

  Only seeing a third of the package exposed, I instantly recognized what it was.

  Oh my God. Peanut butter cookies.

  Without thinking, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around him. His arms quickly enclosed on my waist, as if taken by surprise.

  I stayed there, listening to his heartbeat, not quite sure why I was still holding on. He was still holding me too, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his grip was tighter than before.

  After what seemed like a long time, I let go and slid down. His eyes darkened.

  “If that’s how you react to lights, I’m gonna have to do this more often.”

  “You were freaked,” he stated, like coming over was the most natural thing to do. “Need me to stay with you for a while?” he offered.

  He would do that?

  “I– you don’t have to.”

  But all he did was walk to the couch, like he didn’t have a care in the world that he was here, babysitting me.

  He opened the package and offered me one. I walked up to him and took one.

  I smacked a kiss on the cookie, claiming it as my second long-lost love, and it was, just after coffee. I savored the taste.

  It was perfect. Just soft enough, but crunchy on the outside. Very crumbly and nutty, not overly sweet. Mmm.

  The plastic container made a little squishy noise. I looked up to find him breathing heavily. What the heck.

  “Why aren’t you eating one?” I asked, frowning.

  I thought I heard him say ‘lucky fucker’. But he couldn’t have, and so I shrugged it off.

  “I had some on the way,” he said, but he sounded distracted, his voice a little unsteady. I put a hand on his arm, and he looked down on it. I immediately removed my hand.

  “Oh. We might have something in the fridge if you’re still hungry.”

  “I’m good.”

  After a while, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain, he dozed off.

  He looked kind of cute when he was sleeping. He wasn’t frowning, scowling, or saying something ridiculous. He didn’t make me feel conflicted with the way he looked at me. He–

  I was pulled down to him, my body against his, and I felt his chest rumbling in laughter.

  “What are you doing?” I pushed up, but the effort was pointless, because I fell right back down. “This isn’t funny.”

  Clearly it was to him, because it was only now that his laughter started to die down.

  “You were supposed to be sleeping,” I murmured against his chest. Mm. He smelled good. Like sandalwood, and something earthy and distinctly male.

  “You shouldn’t watch people when they sleep.”

  “I– I wasn’t watching you. There was something on your face,” I blurted out.

  “Sherr.” Amusement crept its way into his voice again. “The lights just went out and the flashlight’s pointing at the ceiling. Now try something else.”

  The sarcasm was pissing me off. I pushed myself up, harder this time, scrambled away, and marched up the stairs.

  And as I slammed the door shut, I could still hear the timbre of his laughter.

  * * *

  Sleep didn't come.

  So much had happened in the space of a few days, and it was a lot to take in.

  The rain finally let up at around one in the morning, to my relief. It was also when the lights started turning on.

  Feeling restless, I got right back out and slipped on my fluffy bunny slippers, before I headed out arms crossed, gazing at the aftermath of the rain.

  Trees swayed from the wind. Droplet
s of water fell from each leaf, like a tear threatening to fall. Just as I was starting to feel the chill, something that felt like a jacket was draped over my shoulders.

  "Why are you out here?" came Chase’s voice, low, as if he'd just woken from sleep.

  He should’ve been fast asleep at this time.

  I shrugged, gazing out.

  "You shouldn't be out here alone.”

  "What are you going to do, keep me company?" I joked, rubbing my hands and breathing on them to keep me warm.

  He disappeared, and thinking he'd finally left me, I nearly jumped when I heard the shuffling behind me. I stared at him as he brought one of the dining table's chairs down right next to mine, scraping on the floor and landing with a hollow thud.

  "Yeah, I will," he said simply.

  I bit the inside of my cheek. "Go back to sleep, Chase."

  Then his gaze landed on my slippers. A smirk forming on his lips, he replied wryly, "I'm touched you want me here so much."

  I sat down and pushed my slippers underneath the seat. No need to have him comment on my choice of footwear. "I don't want to interrupt your sleep.”

  “You’re not interrupting anything,” he replied.

  We both looked out in silence.

  I was unable to stop a yawn from escaping. "Chase."

  "Yeah."

  "Tell me a story."

  His voice was deep, a little rough from sleep, and I found that it soothed me. But more so because it was him.

  And something about the quality of it warmed my heart, bringing a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in a while, and I felt it deep, all the way to my toes.

  It was there, the past, hanging in the air. We just never spoke of it, like that one topic would break our fragile, fledgling relationship.

  “There was once a woman. She loved plants and gardening, but one day hid herself from everyone, and stayed in a cave, because she was so scared of the world. When she went out it was winter, and all the plants had died.”

  “I don’t like this story.” I tried to stand up, but a hand grabbed mine and pulled me back down, and this time, I landed on what felt like his lap.

  Oh my God.

  I felt myself blush furiously. He was warm and hard all around me, his hands settling on my arms, rubbing slowly in circles.

  “Too bad. It’s not done yet,” he whispered against my ear. I couldn’t help the shiver that passed through me. “So, this woman built a wall around her. She didn’t want to care for plants anymore. Not when they wither anyway,”

  “Chase,” I said desperately, and something in my voice must’ve made him pause.

  “Aren’t you interested about what happens to the woman?”

  “I know what happens to her,” I said softly.

  “What happens to her, Sherr?”

  It was obvious, wasn’t it?

  “The walls close in on her, and she drowns in her misery.”

  “Wrong,” he said, and– did he just press his lips against my hair? “Someone else tried to climb it.”

  “No one can climb it,” I finally said stubbornly.

  The bastard laughed. “I thought I was telling the story.”

  “Stories aren’t truths. That’s why they’re different every time you ask someone else.”

  “This is my story,” he said, and I felt him smile against me.

  Well, he had a point, but I wasn’t going to admit it.

  "Sherr…"

  "Yes?"

  He shook his head as if he found the thought ridiculous. "Nothing.”

  I had no idea what he was thinking. But I let it go, and for the second time this week, I was content to just sit with him quietly.

  * * *

  “Holy crap.”

  Haley’s hand was still on the handle of the door, as if she stopped just midway. Her mouth formed an o shape.

  Chase stirred next to me. I shot up from the couch, looking around wildly. “What’s wrong?” I asked, panicked and a little bewildered.

  I felt the heat of someone behind me, and I realized the cause of Haley’s reaction.

  Oh. Shit. Crap. Fuck. Fuck!

  “You did not see anything,” I declared. I looked back at Chase, brought a hand up and pushed him away. Then I stopped, because I realized what I just touched.

  Brain. Fried.

  I stared, before I managed to get a word out. “Where is your shirt?” I couldn’t stop the hysteria that was rising in my voice.

  He yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck if I know. Somewhere. Maybe out on the porch.” He still looked a little dazed from sleep. He turned his head, looking for it.

  Haley’s eyes widened. “You did it on the porch?” she gasped.

  “No!” Oh my God. Kill me now. I poked his chest, trying hard not to stare. “Why the heck would it be on the porch? It was cold last night.”

  Chase didn’t seem concerned. I lifted up the cushion, checking if it was underneath. No dice. I bent down to check underneath the couch, and it wasn’t there either. After a few minutes of looking around, I heard Chase call out, “Found it!”

  It turned out it was all the way across the room, draped on the dining table.

  Jesus. How the hell did it even land there?

  Just then, Haley’s shoulders shook before she threw her head back laughing.

  Chase looked at me, a smile transforming his face, blasting the charm on full. “Had a great time,” he drawled. “See you around.”

  He jogged down the stairs as I stared after him, speechless.

  * * *

  Haley just got out of the shower, when she gave me a look, her brows raised. She wanted details.

  “What on earth happened last night?” There was no mistaking the curiosity in her voice.

  I groaned. “Nothing. He just came over when the storm hit, and I didn’t mean to call him but he still came,” I said all in one breath, hardly pausing.

  Haley looked at me thoughtfully. “You know what that means, right?”

  “I don’t know.” I covered my face with both my hands. “I don’t understand him.”

  “Hmm.” Then smiling a little smugly, she asked, “Still think it’s nothing?”

  Chapter Ten

  Limbo

  I just wanted to write.

  With the thought in mind, I set off to a hunt for a good writing spot. I liked the occasional change of environment to get the creativity going.

  There was something immensely satisfying with the smell of coffee after a particularly restless night.

  I brought my laptop with me to the café. I ordered a cappuccino and sat down on a quiet corner that nestled in between the window and the brick wall.

  And just as I was getting engrossed in my chapter, typing furiously, I nearly jumped out of my seat when my name was called.

  “Sherr!” Sierra sat next to me, carrying a slice of cheesecake on her plate.

  “Oh my God. Don’t do that.” A hand over my chest, I scowled at her.

  But she wasn’t paying attention to me. She stabbed her cheesecake with her fork, and she stared at it with her brows furrowed together, giving it her full focus.

  “You look like you’re about to perform cake torture,” I couldn’t help but say.

  "All food talk," she told me solemnly. "This is telling me I’ll never finish him, but he’s wrong.”

  Huh?

  “How does a cake talk? And did you just call it a…” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Never mind.”

  “They're mocking me, because I can never make them right,” she told me matter-of-factly.

  With the fork in between her lips, she looked over at my screen as I typed. She continued to watch my screen intently, and it became clear I couldn't work like this. I stopped. I shifted away a little, and continued typing. She moved with me. I looked at her with a raised brow, but she remained unfazed. I flipped to my browser.

  “Aw, why’d you stop?” she protested, pouting.

  Shit, my current tab was an article on how to bury dead
bodies from last night. I quickly pushed the lid halfway down to conceal it from her view.

  “Taking a bit of a break.” I took a sip from my coffee, grimacing. That would’ve been a conversation I didn’t really want to have.

  The bell jingled, signaling a new customer. I looked up and saw Eva, who just entered the shop with her dog, Peaches. She perked up when she saw us both, and beelined towards us. “Sierra! Sherr!” She sat on the other side of me. “Just went to walk Peach.”

  I bent down to pat the golden retriever. She licked my hand. Aw.

  “Is it true?” she turned to me, excitedly. “You’re really staying?”

  I was about to answer when Wes stormed in, carrying an impressive bouquet of roses. He looked like a man who came in with a mission, and he forged on, determined.

  We all watched the scene unfold with fascination, my laptop forgotten.

  He stopped before the woman behind the counter, waiting as she passed a cup of coffee to a customer. She looked around my age, if a little younger. She was curvy, her dark hair dyed in streaks of purple. I liked her already.

  She stood in front of the counter in shock when he presented her with them. She took the bouquet, looking lost, almost as if she didn’t know what to do with it. As if she hadn’t been on the receiving end of it much.

  Then Wes murmured something, his voice gentle and teasing. Warily, she nodded once to what he said. Then Wes said something else, leaning closer. And her expression shifted from a guarded one, to anger.

  Oh boy. Not a good sign.

  Her grip tightened on the bouquet. Then without warning, she whacked him with it, pissed. I winced. The bouquet fell to the ground, red petals scattered over the ground, like droplets of blood.

  Wes stood in shock. Not that I blamed him. I don’t think he got that reaction much, if ever, from women. Recovering, he picked up the now-ruined bouquet.

  Luckily, it was still pretty early, so there was a smaller audience. That was little consolation. Wes stood at the same spot for a while, then looked up, and saw us. Surprise hit him. I waved, and he came over.

  He plopped down on the seat opposite me, dejected, placing the bouquet on the empty seat next to him. We didn't say anything about its pitiful state.