Truth or Dare You (The Love Game Book 2)

by Elizabeth Hayley

  Truth or Dare You

  The Love Game: Book Two

  Elizabeth Hayley

  This book is a publication of Waterhouse Press.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2020 Waterhouse Press, LLC

  Original Cover Design by Wicked by Design

  Cover Redesign by Waterhouse Press

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgments

  Continue The Love Game Series With Book Three

  Also by Elizabeth Hayley

  About Elizabeth Hayley

  To Pop Culture, you were almost edited away from us, but we’ll never let you go. “As if!”

  Chapter One

  S O P H I A

  I ran my brush through my hair again and took one last look in the mirror before applying a little pink lip gloss and heading downstairs.

  I’d been home for weeks, and I’d only seen Taylor once. She’d traveled a bit to visit family and had other holiday obligations, but now that Christmas had passed, it was time to celebrate properly with my best friend. And what better way to do that than to go to some dive bar where we used to use our fake IDs when we were in high school?

  Taylor texted that she was outside, so as I raced by the family room, I shouted my goodbyes to my parents.

  “I’m going out. See you later.”

  “When will you be home?” my mom called.

  From the end of the hall, I could see her look up from the book she’d been reading on the couch. My dad was in his leather recliner with the hockey game on while he simultaneously clicked around on his phone.

  “Next year,” I yelled back.

  “Don’t be smart,” my dad replied dryly without bothering to look up from his screen.

  I flashed him a smile he of course couldn’t see. “How dare you ask me to sacrifice my intelligence?” I tried to keep my tone light as I joked, but the words tasted bitter, stale.

  “Watch it,” said my dad, who was otherwise preoccupied.

  I nearly asked what he wanted me to watch but managed to bite my tongue.

  “Seriously, Soph,” my mom said. “New Year’s Eve scares me. Let me know where you end up. Don’t drink and drive—”

  “We have an Uber,” I promised her.

  “Don’t talk to any strange men.”

  “How would you define ‘strange’?”

  “Sophia, please! I already have one child who’s seeking refuge from this family in another country. I don’t need another disappearing.”

  “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.” I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.

  Once again, I was torn between feeling happy she cared so much about me and wondering why I always had to live up to standards that my fuckup brother, Brody, didn’t.

  After they’d discovered Brody had hired someone to impersonate him so he didn’t have to go back to school, they’d accepted his refusal to return home because, well, that was just Brody.

  Long ago, he’d painted the dog’s fur with glitter glue, then he’d tried to grow marijuana in our backyard, he’d flunked out of college more than once, and finally he’d moved to Europe without telling anyone.

  I was their only hope of raising a successful child.

  Until I’d gone and fallen in love with the guy Brody had hired to pretend to be him. Strange when I thought about it like that—falling for someone I had to call Brody all semester—but Drew was sweet and cute and funny and all the things female fantasies were made of.

  That my dad clearly couldn’t stand him only made Drew more appealing. That is, if he hadn’t left right after our charade was up. I still wasn’t sure what my dad had said to him while I’d been at my sorority meeting, but whatever it was had Drew running like Forrest fucking Gump.

  He’d packed his shit, left, and I hadn’t heard from him since. Maybe he was better at being Brody than I’d given him credit for.

  Not that I’d expected him to call from the ICU.

  I opened the back door of the white SUV and gave Taylor a quick hug.

  “What’s up, biotch?” she asked.

  “Well, my parents are acting like I’m a spoiled toddler, Brody may never come home, and Drew’s still in the hospital. So nothing, really.”

  She put her arm around me as much as her seat belt would allow and pulled me closer. “You need a Taylor hug.”

  “I really don’t.”

  “Nonsense. Let TayTay take care of you.” She rocked me against her.

  “Don’t ever call yourself that again.”

  Continuing to sway back and forth, I found myself resting my head on her shoulder.

  “TayTay can’t make any promises.”

  “I can’t stand you,” I told her.

  “You love me.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “You ladies are a cute couple,” a male voice interrupted.

  It took me a moment to remember a third person was in the car, and once I did, I realized what type of men my mom had been trying to warn me about.

  In the rearview mirror, I could make out the Uber driver’s eyebrows—lifted above wide eyes that suggested he’d been thinking we were more than just cute.

  Two hours later, we were both successfully drunk, surrounded by people who were about three times our age. When we’d arrived, there had been a younger crowd, but at some point between my first Jolly Rancher and—I looked down at the glass I was holding—well, whatever I was currently drinking, the patrons had transitioned from kids like us to people like…our parents?

  “Why are there all these old people here?” I yelled over a cover of Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.”

  Taylor looked up from where she’d been picking a seed out of her lemon. She squinted as she panned the room from her high seat against the wall, appearing confused.

  “Don’t know,” she slurred before returning to her lemon.

  I tried to decide if it’d be worth it to call another Uber and go to another bar, but I wasn’t in the mood to run into anyone from high school, which would be exactly what would happen if we headed over to Timothy’s or Dino’s.

  Taylor and I would have more fun hanging here with each other, drinking shots of well tequila and dancing poorly to eighties rock. And as I pulled her out onto the clear space that served as a dance floor near the tiny stage and we began dancing like chi
ldren whose parents let them stay up to see the ball drop, I knew I’d made the right decision: this was exactly where I was supposed to be and who I was supposed to be with.

  Eventually, we decided it would be a good idea to get some food and water, so we headed up to the bar to ask for menus. We ordered some wings, and once they arrived we dug in. I was sure we were covered in wing sauce and blue cheese. There was truly nothing more satisfying than fried food while drinking.

  We drank a few glasses of water each, rehydrating ourselves from what the sauce and the alcohol had done to our bodies, and headed to the bathroom to clean ourselves up.

  “What time is it?” Taylor asked after we washed our lips off and touched up our makeup a bit.

  I dried my hands the best I could with an old white air dryer before conceding defeat and wiping them on my jeans.

  I knew it hadn’t struck midnight yet, but it could’ve been nine or eleven forty-five. I had no idea, so I pulled my phone out to check.

  “It’s almost eleven,” I said, swiping open a text from Carter and staring at it a little too long.

  “What?” asked Taylor. “What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t respond. I had to read everything Carter had written first.

  Happy almost New Year!! Hope ur

  having fun at home. Just wanted to

  let you know that Drew finally got

  out of the ICU yesterday. Went to see

  him earlier. Seems like the worst is

  behind him. Just needs a lot of PT

  and rehab, and he should be good.

  I tried not to think about the night Drew had been in that accident or how Carter and I had rushed to the hospital but were refused entry because we weren’t immediate family. How scared we’d been. How scared I still was.

  Though Drew had left abruptly, everything leading up to that had been anything but impulsive. We’d pushed our feelings for each other deep down until the pressure inside us was too much to contain. And when we finally exploded like volcanoes of raw emotion and desire, we’d both wondered why we’d tried to resist it for so long.

  Yup, I’d do better not to think about any of that.

  But Carter had gone to see Drew a few times and had been texting me updates since I’d left for break, and he’d filled me in on Drew’s injuries: a broken leg, arm, and a few ribs as well as some superficial cuts and bruises.

  I couldn’t decide if knowing how Drew was doing was healthy for my getting past our breakup, but I’d decided a few weeks ago that it didn’t matter. Even if I never saw him again, I needed to know how he was. I needed to know he would be okay.

  But apparently I wasn’t the only one who needed to know the other was okay.

  He’s asking about you, Carter had passed along before suggesting I at least consider visiting Drew since he’d probably be in the hospital for another week or so.

  I held out the phone for Taylor to see.

  She took a moment to read through the texts. “That’s great!” She sounded much more enthusiastic than I felt.

  “What part?”

  “All of it.”

  She pulled open the bathroom door so we could exit, but we stayed tucked away in the dimly lit hallway since it was easier to hear.

  “That he’s out of intensive care and seems like he’ll be okay.” She hesitated. “And I think it’s good he’s asking for you.”

  “He’s not asking for me. Just about me. It’s completely different.”

  “Is it?”

  Narrowing my eyes at her, I said, “You shouldn’t try to be cryptic when you’re drunk. You just sound confused.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “And you shouldn’t try to avoid reality.”

  “I’m not avoiding reality. I’m avoiding Drew. If you remember, that’s what he wants anyway.”

  She leaned her head against the chipped wooden wall and folded her arms. I really hoped she wasn’t going to give me some sort of best-friend pep talk that she thought was going to get me to run to Drew’s side. Not when he’d run away from me. I wasn’t desperate, and I certainly wasn’t stupid.

  “What?” I asked after she hadn’t said anything.

  She shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t want that anymore.”

  “Doesn’t want what?”

  Running dark-red nails through waves of her blond hair, she let out a sigh. “Why are you so dense? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one between the two of us?” Her question was clearly rhetorical because she continued as if she hadn’t asked one. “I bet he doesn’t want to run anymore. His brush with death probably made him realize he’s only gonna live once. He woke up from whatever coma he was—”

  “He wasn’t in a coma.”

  Taylor gestured with her hand like she was shooing me away. “Whatever. He’s probably been eating ice chips and peeing in a bottle for the better part of December. That’s basically the same thing.”

  “It’s not at all,” I argued. “And it’s a good thing you’re not going into the medical field. You have the bedside manner of Nurse Ratched.”

  “I’ll pretend I get that reference and that it’s a compliment.”

  At least that had me laughing. What had begun as a carefree girls’ night and a fun way to ring in the new year had quickly shifted to something more serious. And I didn’t want serious. I’d have to go back to school in a couple of weeks, integrate myself back into the sorority house, begin a new semester, and pretend much of the last one hadn’t happened.

  Until then, I wanted light and airy, not heavy and suffocating. But unfortunately, pretty much everything that had to do with Drew Nolan felt oppressive, from his accident to the mysterious way he’d fled the apartment we’d shared.

  I began to sober up. Well, maybe sober up was an exaggeration. It was probably more like began to speak without slurring or something of the sort. I was definitely still drunk and would be for a while, but somehow my thoughts became clearer than they’d been in weeks.

  Drew had left without so much as a goodbye, and he hadn’t given me a valid reason for his sudden change of heart. My gut told me Dad had scared him shitless, but it just didn’t seem like Drew to give up so easily on something he wanted.

  Which left me with only one explanation. He didn’t want me.

  Chapter Two

  S O P H I A

  Despite it taking a while to decide that I wanted—or maybe needed—to see Drew, it took me no time at all to hustle my ass to the hospital once I’d made up my mind.

  I borrowed my mom’s Lexus under the guise of having to check in at the sorority house—something I would actually do once I saw that Drew was in one piece so I could put him behind me for good.

  Maybe there’d be some fun drama floating around that I could lose myself in for a while—as long as it didn’t involve me. I’d had enough to last a lifetime. Or at least a semester.

  I pulled into the underground garage and descended quite a ways into its bowels before finally finding an empty spot. After thrusting the car into park, I returned my hand to the steering wheel and sat for a second.

  The hour-and-a-half drive here had given me time to run through scenarios in my head of how this might go. Every instance I’d brought to mind was awkward as hell and consisted of me seeing he was fine and then counting down the seconds until I could leave without seeming like a heartless bitch.

  But as I sat in my mom’s SUV, staring at the spray-painted Compact in front of me, another possibility came to mind: What if I didn’t want to leave? What if I saw him lying in a hospital bed, and begging and pleading words tumbled out of me unchecked? Things like, “Please keep me,” and “I love you. Why don’t you love me?”

  How absolutely fucking horrifying.

  Mild panic started to fill me. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths. This man had left me. With hardly any explanation, he’d razed everything we’d built between us as soon as the real world came calling. And while I still missed him with an ache th
at kept time with the staccato rhythm of my heart, he didn’t need to know that.

  He didn’t deserve to know it. Just because I wasn’t as callous as he was and cared whether he lived or died did not mean that I owed him anything. I was here for me, for peace of mind so that I could move forward without having to waste another second of mental energy on him.

  Right. Good. This was good.

  I pulled the visor down and checked my makeup. It couldn’t hurt to remind him of what he’d given up. A girl had a right to be a little superficial in times like this.

  Satisfied with what I saw, I flipped the visor closed, grabbed my purse, and exited the vehicle. The double beep of the lock mechanism echoed in the cavernous garage, as did the click of my heels against the pavement as I approached the elevator. The doors slid open, and I stepped inside.

  When the doors opened again, I was in a bustling lobby. It took me a second to get my bearings and locate the main desk. Even though I’d come here the night of Drew’s accident, that entire night was a blur.

  Carter had told me Drew’s room number, but the hospital was massive, and the last thing I wanted was to get lost in here. I was sure there were at least five horror movies that involved some hapless co-ed making a wrong turn, ending up in the morgue, and getting murdered by a psycho masquerading as a surgeon. No thanks.

  When it was my turn, I approached the woman working the desk. She looked like she had absolutely zero fucks to give.