Dare

by Glenna Sinclair

“Because I am unique.”

  She giggled, pressing her fingers to her lips to mute the sound. “You really are conceited.”

  “No. I’m just confident in who I am.”

  She studied me for a minute before shaking her head. “Anyway,” she said, drawing out the syllables. “I met Philip my sophomore year. He was a year ahead of me, a history major. His father’s into politics and Philip was planning to follow his footsteps after law school.”

  “Interesting. But I’m more interested in the part where he broke your heart and made life harder for the rest of us.”

  She groaned. “It’s called background. And it helps to put things in perspective.”

  “Things are already pretty much in perspective,” I said, purposely dropping my eyes to her cleavage.

  “Stop!” she said, giggling again as she slapped the back of my hand. “Is that really all you think about?”

  “Only when I’m with you.”

  She shook her head, another blush darkening her skin.

  “So, Philip and I dated until just before my college graduation. Someone told me he was going to propose after the ceremony. Instead, two days before, someone emailed me an engagement announcement that appeared in the Houston newspaper a week before. Philip was engaged to a girl from his hometown.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “He told me that his father arranged the whole thing, something about her father having influence over his father’s bid for the state senate, and he intended to break it off before it went much further.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “No. And even if I had, he was still engaged to someone else when I’d been expecting a ring on my finger at any moment. I couldn’t forgive that.”

  “So you ended it.”

  “I did.”

  “And then?”

  She shook her head. “There is no ‘and then’ to this story. That was the last of it.”

  “What about other guys?”

  “I haven’t really dated that much since then. I’ve been busy with my career.”

  “I don’t believe that. A girl as pretty as you? I’m sure there’ve been plenty of opportunities.”

  “None I was interested in.”

  I sat back and studied her, truly shocked at the lack of experience she had. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five—I learned later she was twenty-three—yet she had only been involved in one serious relationship. Only one lover. At least…I assumed. Compared to my romantic history, she was just a baby.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  How was I supposed to tell her about all my conquests when she was so pure? I was suddenly a little uncomfortable, a little ashamed of my past.

  What would she think when I began telling her my story?

  Chapter 3

  Xander

  Hours passed in a matter of minutes. Nurse Franklin came in to check…something. She touched Harley’s IV, her monitors, her leads. Then she looked at me and offered a soft smile.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “Well, if you want to stretch out, that chair over there pulls out into a small lounger.”

  “Thank you.”

  She picked up the iPad she’d been noting Harley’s vitals in and began to cross the room. As I watched her go, a thought crossed my mind. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “How did you know to call me? I mean, she was jogging, and you said she was unconscious when the paramedics arrived…”

  “Oh. There was an emergency contact card in her fanny pack.” She set the iPad on the end of the bed and went to the small wardrobe next to the door. From there, she retrieved a small, black and red fanny pack that was very familiar to me. I’d actually bought it. “I think her cellphone is in there, too.”

  “Thank you,” I said for the third time, suddenly feeling like I was a parrot repeating the same phrases over and over.

  She touched my shoulder lightly. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  I waited until she left before I looked at the bag she’d handed me. A sharpness cut through me when I realized the dark spots on the front of the bag were blood. She’d been wearing this around her waist when she was hit. Somehow, the sight of her drying blood made the whole thing a little less surreal than the sight of her injuries.

  I unzipped the top of the bag and slipped her cellphone out. Her earphones were still lodged inside the jack. The phone’s screen was cracked, but it still had a little more than half its battery charge. I almost smiled when I saw that she was listening to a Drake song when…well, she was listening to Drake. My taste in music was beginning to wear off on her.

  Her driver’s license was in the bag, too, with the address of my L.A. house on it. And the emergency contact card I filled out and handed to her when she first moved to Los Angeles and began jogging alone outside the gates of my neighborhood.

  “Just in case something happens and I’m not around.”

  She laughed at me. Said if I’d run with her every morning, it wouldn’t be an issue. But I was so glad now that I’d done it. And relieved that she’d actually taken my advice.

  I picked up her phone again, scrolling through the call history. Margaret had called her half a dozen times in the last couple of hours. But her parents hadn’t called in more than a week.

  I should really call Margaret. And her parents. If this happened to me…I suppose my mother would want to know right away, no matter what the prognosis.

  ***

  “Who was your first love?”

  There was a spark in her eye, but also a touch of caution. She seemed almost as reluctant to hear about my romantic history as I was to admit to it.

  “My mother, of course.”

  “Hmm,” she said, settling back against the cheap vinyl of the booth seat, picking up her cup of coffee. “My mother always told me to be wary of mama’s boys.”

  “I’m not a mama’s boy. Not in the traditional sense of the word. But my mother and I are close. I guess that kind of happens when you grow up with a single parent.”

  “Oh? Where’s your dad?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  She looked down into the depths of her coffee. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. My mom tells me that he was never really a prince of a guy. She always insisted we were better off.”

  “You never knew him?”

  “No.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  I set my elbows on the table and rested my chin on my folded hands. “What about your parents? Are you close?”

  “Yes. My parents run a big animal veterinarian office together out of our house, so they were always home. They would take me with them when they delivered babies or had an emergency in the middle of the night. I can remember falling in sleep in kindergarten a few times because of late night house calls.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  “No. I have a younger brother and sister.”

  “The big sis, huh?”

  “Yeah. What about you?”

  “My dad didn’t stick around long enough. Just me and my mom.”

  “What does your mom do?”

  “She’s a legal secretary.”

  She sipped her coffee, her eyes watching me over the cup. “Did you ever think of going into law?”

  “Thought about it. Decided it wasn’t really my thing when I took a civics class and bombed it.”

  She laughed. “No law school for you then.”

  “No. I think my aptitude has always been more towards the business side. Organization. Marketing. Schmoozing the customer.”

  “I’m sure you’re good at schmoozing the customer. You are quite the charmer.”

  “You think I’m charming?”

  “I think we covered that already.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t mind covering it some more.”

&nb
sp; She sat her coffee down and stood, reaching out for my hand. “I think it’s time to put an end to this date, kind sir. Perhaps you can take me home?”

  I stood slowly, wondering if I’d said something I shouldn’t have. But then she stepped into me and reached up to kiss me lightly on my bottom lip. I slid my hand up her back and pulled her closer, capturing her mouth before she could move away.

  ***

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There was an accident this morning. She was jogging—”

  “I got that part,” Margaret said, a familiar impatience to her voice. “What do you mean, she’s in a coma?”

  “She’s in a coma. She hit her head and the doctors put her in a drug-induced coma to try to reduce the swelling.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  I touched Harley’s hand lightly. “Hopefully it’s temporary.”

  “Have you tried to call her parents?”

  “That’s my next phone call.”

  “I can’t imagine they’ll be too anxious to hear from you. Why are you there?”

  “The hospital called me. I was her emergency contact on the card she was carrying.”

  Margaret was quiet for a minute. “Poor kid,” she said softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do but wait.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.”

  I disconnected the call a minute or two later and dialed Harley’s parents back in Texas quickly so that I wouldn’t have a chance to chicken out. Margaret was right. Harley’s parents didn’t like me much. I was the big, evil guy who dragged their daughter three states from home.

  The phone rang four, five, six times before it was answered. Shelly, Harley’s seventeen-year-old sister, answered breathlessly.

  “Harley’s not here, Xander,” she said, without bothering with a greeting.

  “I know, Shell. Are your parents there?”

  “Nope. They’re on their anniversary cruise. A month in Europe, no cellphones allowed.”

  Shit. I forgot about that.

  “When did they leave?”

  “Last week. Why?”

  “Is Charlie around?”

  “He’s upstairs with Vanessa. And I really don’t think now would be the time to interrupt them, if you know what I mean.”

  I groaned; an image of Harley’s twenty-year-old brother with his girlfriend was not one I really wanted.

  “Is something wrong? Is Harley okay?”

  And there it was. I couldn’t tell a teenager what was going on, especially when there was nothing she could do about it. There really wasn’t much use in telling Charlie, either, was there? He couldn’t jump on a plane and come out at the drop of a hat. And there really was no point in it, either. What could he do that I wasn’t already doing?

  “No, Shelly, nothing’s wrong. I’ll, uh…I’ll call back when your parents get home from their cruise.”

  “Okay,” she said, already distracted by something going on in her world. “Talk to you later.”

  ***

  I walked her to the front door of her house, hoping I’d remembered to slide a couple of condoms into my pocket before I left the hotel. She turned to me at the door, sliding up against my chest as she kissed me again, a decidedly more intense kiss than the last. I pushed her back, catching us both with a hand on the door as her back molded against the leaded glass. My other hand was on her hip, but I wasn’t planning on leaving it there for long.

  “I should go in,” she said, her voice softened by excitement.

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  I ran my lips along the side of her neck, making her groan as I found a particularly sensitive spot just under her right ear. She bent her head back, giving me access to more of the tender flesh of her neck. Her scent washed over me as I moved closer, desperate to taste every inch of her throat, her jaw. As I felt the heaving of her breasts increase with every second that passed.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, pressing her fingers into my hair and tugging me closer to her for a moment.

  “Why not? We’re both consenting adults.”

  “Is that your only criteria? That we’re both adults?”

  “No. I have a whole list of things I require of my lovers, and you fit every single one of them perfectly.”

  She groaned again, as my hand slid under her skirt, sliding up the length of her thigh. She lifted her leg quite willingly, hooking her foot around my leg, as my fingers found her ass, sliding under the edge of her panties. She sighed again until I stole her mouth and her breath, pressing the length of my body as tight against her as I could possibly get it.

  I wanted her. I don’t think I’d ever wanted anyone as much as I wanted her that night.

  But then she slid her hand behind her and turned the doorknob.

  “I have to go,” she said, sounding almost like a teenager late for curfew.

  “Harley…”

  I grabbed her hand, trying to stop her from disappearing.

  “Call me.”

  ***

  I slept for a while, but I kept waking up and imagining that she wasn’t breathing. I finally just crawled back into the uncomfortable chair by her bed and rested my head on her mattress, her hand tucked tightly into mine. I could feel the warmth of her skin, the reassuring beat of her pulse. It helped.

  The doctor arrived not long after my phone informed me it was time to get up and get ready for work.

  “Everything looks good,” he told me. “No change in the pressure in her head.”

  “How do you know?”

  He gestured at a smaller machine set beside the heart monitor. “This is attached to a subdural screw we placed in her skull. This number hasn’t moved since yesterday, so we know that the pressure hasn’t changed.”

  The machine showed 35.

  “What number do we want it to be?”

  “20 or lower.”

  I nodded, almost relieved to have something to shoot for. “And then you’ll wake her up?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  I touched Harley’s cheek lightly. “Then she’ll be awake very soon.”

  “Brain injuries are very unpredictable, Mr. Boggs.”

  I looked up. “But she’s stable.”

  “She is right now. But there’s the real possibility that she could have setbacks. You should be prepared for that.”

  “Setbacks? Like what?”

  “An infection could slow her progress. Or the pressure could still increase. And there’s always the real possibility that she’ll be left with some sort of brain damage.”

  “Brain damage?”

  Dr. Caliendo inclined his head slightly. “Anything from memory problems to speech difficulties to personality changes. The brain is a very delicate organ. Any injury could have unpredictable results.”

  I picked up Harley’s hand and held it between both of mine. “You don’t know Harley. She’s a fighter.”

  ***

  Under any other circumstances, I would have been angry. She was a tease. Only a tease would lead me on that way and then back off. But, then, we were talking about Harley.

  I did call the next day. And the next. And the next. I couldn’t get enough of her; I couldn’t hear her voice long enough, stare into her eyes often enough. I was in Austin for three weeks and I spent almost every moment of those days thinking about or talking with or seeing Harley.

  “If you’re not careful, I might just fall in love with you,” I whispered against her ear as we said our goodbyes at the airport.

  “I’ll be very careful, then.”

  But it was already too late.

  ***

  “How are we this morning?”

  Nurse Franklin smiled as she came into the room, her always-present iPad in her hands.

  “We’re down to 32.”

  “Awesome.”

  She ran the IV lines through her fingers, looking for bubbles, I think. You’d think that
after three days of camping out in this room, I would know everything they were doing to her. But I didn’t.

  “I see the doctor changed her antibiotics.”

  “She had a rash on her stomach last night.”

  “That can be a side effect.”

  She noted something on her iPad then looked up at me. “How are you? Did you get some rest last night?”

  “A little.”

  “You should really go home, get some decent food and a good night’s sleep.”

  “I don’t think I could sleep without knowing what was happening here.”

  She studied my face for a moment. “You’re engaged? I heard one of the other nurses mention something…”

  “We are.”

  “Congratulations.”

  I ran my hand over Harley’s wrist. “The doctors think they might be able to wake her up next week if her numbers keep going down the way they have been.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, if you need anything, Mr. Boggs…”

  “Please, call me Xander.”

  She paused at the door. “If you’ll call me Alicia.”

  I inclined my head. “Alicia.”

  ***

  “I think you’re the only man in America who’s willing to take a three-hour flight just to have dinner.”

  “The food here is awesome.”

  She tossed a napkin at me. “You know what I mean.”

  I reached across the table and touched her hand lightly. “I guess I do it for the company.”

  “You guess?”

  I studied her face for a long moment. “You know I like you.”

  “I know. But is it really worth the trouble?”

  “It is to me.”

  That familiar blush burned across her cheeks as her eyes dropped to her plate. I tugged at her hand and forced her closer to the table as I kissed her palm.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve been doing this for, what, three months now?”

  “Three months, a week, and two days.”

  “You’re counting?”

  “Is that weird?”

  She shook her head with something like wonder. “That’s just…that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You fly out here twice a week to have dinner with me, but you don’t…”