Dare You To--A Life Changing Teen Love Story

by Katie McGarry

  The engine roars and he presses harder on the gas. The Jeep hits the rocks. Ryan and I both whoop and yell as water sprays the truck and smashes onto the windshield, making us blind. He pushes the Jeep forward, faster, past the creek, over the rocks. Daring to continue even when I have no idea what’s on the other side.

  The windshield wipers spring to life, clearing our view, and Ryan jerks the wheel to the right to miss a sprawling tree. He enters a clearing and kills the engine. I hear laughter and suck in a breath when I realize it’s mine…and his. Together. It sounds nice. Kind of like music.

  Ryan has that smile again. The genuine one that makes my stomach flip. He had it at Taco Bell. He had it when Scott introduced us. He does it with such ease and for a second I believe his smile is for me.

  “You’re smiling,” he says.

  I absently touch my face as if I’m surprised by the news.

  “You should do that more. It’s pretty.” He pauses. “You’re pretty.”

  My heart does this strange fluttering. Like it’s stopping and starting at the same time. Heat creeps up my neck and flushes my face. What the hell? I’m blushing again?

  “I’m sorry.” Ryan keeps the enduring smile, but it turns a little repentant and his eyes cast down in a shy way.

  “No, it was fun.” The most fun I’ve had in weeks. The most fun I’ve had sober in…my mind ticks back and I come up empty. Life sucks sober.

  “Yeah.” His eyes become distant and the grin stays on his face, but I can tell it’s a little forced. He blinks and the smile becomes natural again. “Yeah. The creek. I should have told you that was coming. Or slowed down.”

  Why I can’t hold eye contact with him for longer than a second, I don’t know. The uncharacteristic bashfulness causes me to feel inadequate and a little…girly? I lace my hands together and focus on them. “Really. It’s okay. I had fun.”

  “Beth?” He hesitates. “Can we start over?”

  I eye him—head to toe. No one’s offered me a do-over before. I guess no one thought I was worth it. A strange tugging inside me lifts my lips and causes a floating sensation for about three seconds. Well aware that everything in life is short-lived, I feel the smile drop and the heaviness return. Still, I accept the offer. “Sure.”

  The sound of a guy shouting catches our attention. Farther into the clearing is a circle of trucks with headlights on and a bonfire in the middle. Kids from school are everywhere. What am I doing here?

  “You ready?” he asks.

  No, but I screwed everything up when I tried to run away. “I guess.”

  While I’m not a party virgin, a party in the woods with a bonfire is a first for me. A group dances in front of a large rusty Jeep. Others hang near the bonfire or on the tailgates of trucks. The whole setup has a Lord of the Flies quality. At least the movie version of the book.

  Ryan and I wade through the knee-deep grass and it crunches beneath my wannabe Chuck Taylors. Some of the longer blades swat at me, slashing at the bare skin exposed by the rips in my jeans. I hate the country.

  The closer we get to the party, the slower I walk and Ryan matches my pace. With each step, he bridges the distance between us and a couple of times his fingers skim against mine. Butterflies flutter through my blood and the stupid little girl part of me wants him to touch me.

  The other part would slug him if he did.

  “Parties make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

  “When they make me feel like Daniel stepping into the lion’s den.”

  I try to suck in my smile when I hear the surprise in his voice. “You know the story?”

  Thanks to my short stint in VBS with Lacy, I can recite the books of the Bible, New and Old Testament, and a few other random verses. “Even the devil knows who God is.”

  “You’re not the devil, Beth.”

  “Are you sure?”

  That sweet smile graces his lips. “No.”

  I laugh. It’s a good laugh. The type that digs deep down into my toes and tickles my insides. What feels even better is the sound of him laughing right along with me.

  “Come on. I promise they won’t eat you. Half the girls here claim they’re vegetarians and I can take the guys.” He does the one thing I hoped for and dreaded: his hand tangles with mine and he tugs gently for me to follow.

  I like the touch of his hand. It’s warm. Strong. And I let the part of me that loved ribbons live for a few seconds and entwine my fingers with his. If I learned one thing from Vacation Bible School, it was that resurrection of the dead is possible.

  Ryan walks toward a truck where Chris and Logan sit on the tailgate. They laugh loudly, then stop when they see me. Tucked between Chris’s legs, Lacy offers me a friendly smile.

  “Did the mud call to you again, Ryan?” asks Lacy.

  Ryan chuckles. “Yeah.”

  Mud? How did Lacy know… I glance down at my outfit. Mud—everywhere. Just great.

  “Hell,” says Chris. “You actually convinced her to show. Did you give him your phone number too?”

  I blink. “What?”

  “You’re holding his damn hand.”

  Right. I am. Stupid me. The bet. First the phone number. Then the date. The Jeep ride disoriented me into momentary forgetfulness. Hurt pricks at my heart and I shove the little girl with ribbons into the dark recesses of my mind. Some things should never be reborn. I break free from his hand. So much for Ryan’s offer of starting over.

  “Don’t let him snow you,” Chris says while running a finger down Lacy’s arm. “Ryan’s a charmer.”

  Noah touches Echo like that. It’s obvious from school that Chris is in love with Lacy. Some guys touch girls they love. Others touch girls they use. The worst touch girls they hurt. I stare at Chris and consider telling him to go fuck himself. Yet I can’t find the anger. I’m the moron that walked into this situation.

  “Don’t let Chris get to you,” Ryan retorts. “He’s pissed because crap comes out of both ends.”

  Chris gives a hearty laugh. Ryan slings an arm around my shoulder and leads me from the group. Um—no. I may have fallen for the hand-holding before, but I’m not falling for anything else. “Get your arm off of me before I rip it off and beat the shit out of you with it.”

  We’re heading for the bonfire. I feel small underneath his massive arm, like a girl, and such vulnerability makes me uncomfortable. Instead of letting go, Ryan effortlessly tucks me under his shoulder. “When you kiss guys, do they drop dead from the venom that spews out of your mouth?”

  “I wish, because I would have kissed you days ago. I’m not kidding, get the hell off.”

  “No.”

  No? “Do you have a death wish?”

  Ryan strides past the bonfire, and panic sweeps through me when he guides me into the thick crowd of people dancing. “You owe me one hour. Remember?”

  Rap pounds so loudly from a truck that the ground beneath us vibrates. Around us people dance. Shimmy. Shake. Laugh. They move in hypnotic rhythms. Skin against skin. Body against body.

  My stomach heaves and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. “Screw you. I’m not doing this.”

  Ryan bolts in front of me, stopping my retreat. “How about a deal? One dance and your debt is paid.”

  “I don’t dance.” True—I don’t. Truer? I’ve never danced with a guy.

  He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You don’t dance?”

  “No.”

  The firelight flickers against Ryan’s tan, giving his face a beautiful bronze glow. Gold shines in his hair. He’s gorgeous. Honestly he is, and he wants me to dance. Could this day get any worse?

  Ryan steps closer and flashes an all-knowing smile that makes him adorable and me weak. I hate him and I hate myself for wanting him to touch me again.

  The music ch
anges from superfast to a bit slower. Its strong beat mimics the frantic pounding in my chest. Ryan rests a hand on my hip and his heat seeps into my skin and creeps into my bloodstream. He lowers his lips to my ear and his breath tickles the nape of my neck. “Dance with me, Beth.”

  “No.” I’m definitely learning impaired. I whispered the reply. I might as well have screamed yes. This is a mistake, Beth. A huge, glaring mistake. Just run!

  Ryan places his other hand on the small of my back and molds his strong body to mine. I inhale and welcome the scent of warm earth and summer rain. Ryan smells…delicious.

  “This works better if you touch me,” he says.

  I loosely lay my hands on his shoulders. Sort of like what I saw Echo do once when Noah swept her off the bed to dance. My skin tingles. Touching Ryan, oh God, it’s too much…too intimate. “I’m only doing this because I owe you.”

  “That’s okay.” On rhythm, Ryan moves his hips from side to side. His hand slides an inch lower and the gentle pressure he exerts on my thigh stirs my body to sway in time with his. Our feet never leave the ground, but, I swear, I’m flying.

  Ryan whispers to me again, “I’m dancing with you because I love the look on your face.”

  Figures. “Love watching me make a fool out of myself?”

  “No. I love seeing the girl Scott and Lacy say you can be.” He stares at me as if he’s seeing beyond my skin and my heart pounds out of my chest so violently that he has to feel it. My nerve endings become raw. Somehow, Ryan’s seeing me and I’m exposed—as if I’m standing naked in front of a large open window. My hands slip from his neck, but as I try to step back, he clutches my waist, rejecting my escape.

  “Ryan! I wondered when you’d get here.” The sound of an all-too-familiar voice creates the same electric shock as when I stuck my finger into a wall socket when I was four. My body seizes, then moves in warp drive away from Ryan.

  Gwen wears a red sundress with printed white flowers. Her lip curls at my wannabe Chuck Taylors, worn jeans, and black T-shirt. She links her arm with Ryan’s. “You wouldn’t mind if I steal Ryan for a moment, would you? There are some things we need to discuss.”

  They look nice together. Well matched. Like a couple should. “He’s yours.”

  RYAN

  Seconds ago, Beth and I shared something…a moment, a connection. I saw it in her eyes. Something real. Now it’s gone. Beth turns from me and heads in the direction of Lacy, Chris, and Logan. “Beth. Wait.”

  She faces me again, but walks backward—away from me. “Don’t worry,” she says with a hint of bite. “I’m not disappearing.”

  “Let her go,” says Gwen. “You can chat with her later.”

  I let Beth go, but only because I remember how persistent Gwen can be. She’ll follow me until she completes her mission. “What?”

  “You don’t have to be snippy,” she chides.

  “I’m not.” Near the tree line, I notice Tim Richardson and Sarah Janes. Sarah sways and laughs a little too loud.

  “Yes, you are.”

  Useless conversations. That’s another reason we broke up. “Is Sarah wasted?”

  Gwen glances over her shoulder at Sarah and refocuses on me. “Yeah. She was trashed before we arrived. So, I was thinking, we should walk onto the football field together for homecoming. The crowd likes couples.”

  “We’re not a couple.” Tim places a hand on Sarah’s ass and she stops laughing. “Are Sarah and Tim an item?”

  “No. She thinks he’s dirt, but she’s drunk and, well, he’s Tim. Back to me and you. We were a couple and maybe we should try it again. You know, when you’re done experimenting with Beth. I mean, you don’t have to go to all of your practices, do you? Ryan…Ryan? Why do you keep staring over my shoulder?”

  Sarah puts her hands on Tim’s chest and pushes him. He doesn’t move, but I do. “Excuse me,” I mumble to Gwen.

  She blocks my path and I halt, irritated she’s still here. “What?”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  Something about homecoming and Beth. “Can we talk about this later?” Sarah pushes Tim again. “Your friend needs help.”

  Gwen steps to the side and I advance to the tree line. Tim becomes touchier and Sarah keeps smacking him.

  “Hey, Tim,” I say. “I think Sarah wants to head back to the party.”

  “No, we’re fine,” Tim responds.

  Sarah swats his hands away. “Get off of me.”

  “Tim,” I say in a low tone. I’ll back up my words with action and he knows it.

  Tim releases Sarah and his chest puffs up as he watches her stumble back to the party. I ready myself by widening my stance. Tim owns a reputation for his dedication to the football team and his anger when he’s drunk. “What’s your problem, Ryan?”

  “Don’t have one as long as you give Sarah her space.”

  He sloppily points at me, then sways. “You made her think she wanted space.”

  “Come on, Tim. Let’s go back to the party.”

  Tim rolls his shoulders back. He’s looking for a fight. I’m not.

  “You know what I think?” he asks.

  “I think we should head back.”

  “I think you’ve got a problem with girls.”

  My back straightens. “What did you say?”

  His lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah,” he says. “You have a problem with girls. You dumped Gwen and she’s hot. You gay, man?”

  Rage ignites inside me and as my muscles tighten to rush forward, delicate fingers wrap around my arm. “He’s not worth it,” Beth says in a smooth voice.

  Chris and Logan slide in between me and Tim, a barrier of skin, muscle, and bone between me and the guy I want to pound.

  Tim continues to taunt me. “Real men aren’t saved by girls.”

  “You’re drunk,” Logan announces to him in a bored voice.

  From the other side of Logan, Tim holds out his hands. “Come and get me, Ryan. Prove that you’re a man.”

  My fists curl and I step closer. “I’m game, Tim. Let’s do this.”

  Chris pushes against my chest, but the pressure does nearly nothing to hold me back. He yells at Beth, “Get him out of here!”

  Her fingers intertwine with mine and that soft, feminine voice breaks through the anger. “Let’s go.”

  My eyes flick over to her. “Ryan,” she says. “Please.”

  Her one please breaks through the chaos disorienting my brain long enough to propel me in the opposite direction of Tim. I tighten my grip on Beth’s hand and lead her back to my Jeep, but not before snagging a six-pack of beer from a cooler.

  Her fingers still clutch mine as we walk through the tall grass without saying a word. I release her when we reach the Jeep and we both hop in. My heart bleeds and anger courses in my veins. I turn on the engine and peel out of the clearing.

  My brother left.

  My brother is gay and he left and he’s never coming back. My father acts as if he never existed. My mother is miserable. My parents—people who once loved each other—hate each other.

  Driving alongside the creek, I wait for a shallow part before crossing. I’ve tortured Beth enough. With this Jeep. With my presence. Isaiah said I made her cry. My fingers tighten on the wheel. Beth’s right—I’m a jerk.

  I’ll take her home, then ride to the back field of my house. And drink. By myself. Drinking may not undo history, but it will cause me to forget for a few hours.

  I jerk the wheel to the left when the rushing of the creek slows to a trickle. Water barely laps the tires as I cross, but the moment I hit the other side, I know I’m screwed. Mud.

  Too much mud. Deep mud. I press on the gas and pull the wheel to the right to try to force the front tires on solid ground before the back ones sink, but it’
s too late. The back tires whine and halt all forward progress.

  “Shit!” I slam my hand on the steering wheel. Knowing that fighting will drag us deeper, I cut the engine. I’m stuck. I yank the hat from my head and throw it to the floorboard. That sums everything up—I’m in deep and I’m stuck.

  My leg sinks a foot into the mud. Beth will be full of colorful words when I tell her we’re going to have to walk. The mud acts like slow-drying concrete, making each step nearly impossible. My jeans rub and slosh in the filth. I’m a complete mess, but I don’t have to let Beth get this dirty.

  I haven’t been much of a gentleman to her. In fact, I’ve been the opposite. Not that her shining personality has made it easy. I open her door and hold out my arms. “Come here.”

  Her forehead furrows. “What?”

  “I’m going to carry you out of the mud.”

  She lifts an incredulous eyebrow. “The show’s over, Bat Boy. You don’t have to be nice to me anymore.”

  Not in the mood for her mouth or an argument, I slip my arms underneath her knees and lift her out of the seat. She won’t be bitching me out the entire walk home because I ruined her shoes.

  “Wait!” Beth wiggles in my arms and reaches for the Jeep.

  Can’t she permit me one nice act? “Dammit, Beth, let me help you.”

  Ignoring me, Beth leans into the passenger side. The back of her shirt hitches up, exposing her smooth skin and Chinese symbols tattooed along her spine. My eyes follow the path of the symbols until they disappear into her jeans. Way too quickly for me, she leans back into my arms, two six-packs of beer cradled against her chest.

  My eyes flicker from the beer to Beth. She shrugs. “Six wasn’t enough.”

  For me, it’s plenty. I don’t want a drinking partner tonight and if I did, it wouldn’t be her. I kick the door shut and wade out of the mud. Beth’s light. Weighs one hundred; maybe one-o-five wet.