Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(56)

He looks away, clenching his jaw, but I flatten my palm against his cheek, forcing him to look at me. His stubbled jaw scratches against my skin, and it dawns on me that I get to touch him like this, when no one else does. It’s a thrilling thought, as weird as that may seem.

“Talk to me. You know all my shit.” Dare opened up about his past, but I suspect there’s still more.

“I told you my shit,” he bites back, and I flinch, taken aback by his tone. His eyes soften at my reaction, and he grabs the back of my head, pulling me under his chin. My cheek is pressed against his chest, and I inhale deeply. I could drown in his piney scent.

“I was an angry kid, and an even angrier teenager,” he starts. I wonder if it’s easier for him to talk this way—with me tucked into his chest rather than looking me in the eye. “I had anger management issues. Abandonment issues. Authority issues,” he ticks off. “Basically, every issue. Self-control was always my weak point. I fucked shit up, and I fought. A lot.” He takes a deep breath, and I hear the steady beat of his heart against my ear. I don’t respond. I’m not the best at this whole feeling-sharing thing either, so I stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

“When I was sixteen, I almost went to prison. I’ve spent the last ten years making sure I’m not that kid anymore.”

“That’s it?” I say, tilting my head back far enough to meet those eyes that are bluer than water that this town is so well-known for. “You almost went to prison?”

Dare looks at me questioningly. “I was a fucking monster. Is that not enough for you?” There’s no heat behind his words. He states them as a fact. As if he were merely commenting on the weather.

“You didn’t actually go, though? Did you at least get to wear handcuffs? Or sit in the back of a cop car?”

“That, I have done,” he says, the corners of his lip tugging into an almost smile.

“Meh,” I tease, unimpressed. “You’re still behind most of the people I grew up with.” So, he has a temper. Big deal. Show me a kid who’s been through half the shit he’s gone through who doesn’t have anger issues.

“I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth,” Dare muses.

“I don’t care about your past,” I say truthfully, because, you know, glass houses and all that. I’m not exactly in a position to judge.

I’m blissfully drifting to sleep when I hear my phone buzzing from the inside of my purse. I groan and start to sit up, but Dare stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Where is it?” he asks. I point toward the door.

“In my purse.”

Dare squats to pick it up. “Got enough shit in here?” he asks, rummaging through my bag. “Found it.” He pulls my phone out triumphantly, walking back toward me. It stops buzzing but starts again by the time it’s in my hands. Jess’ name flashes across the screen.

“Hey,” I say. “How was practice?”

“Fine. Listen, don’t come home.”

“What?” I sit up so quickly, I almost crack heads with Dare. My heart threatens to pound out of my chest because I know, I just know, something isn’t right. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. But I’m looking out the blinds right now, and either I’m super fucking baked or Eric is parked across the street. I think it’s both.”

Fuck. I didn’t even give him a heads-up because I thought for sure Eric would’ve given it up by now.

“I’m gonna go outside and have a little chat with him. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t on your way home.”

“I’m at Dare’s, but Jesse, do not go out there. I don’t know what the fuck Eric’s thinking.”

Upon hearing Eric’s name, Dare stands and practically runs up the stairs.

“I’ve been waiting a minute to fuck this fool up,” Jess says, sounding almost excited. I shake my head, knowing that Stubborn Jesse does whatever the hell he wants. Always has, always will.

Dare flies back downstairs in black sweats and a long-sleeved black shirt. He swipes his keys out of the pile of shit we left at the door in our haste, then throws his boots on.

“Where are you going?”

“Tell him to stay inside till I get there.”

“Goddammit, Dare! I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“The fuck you don’t. Stay here,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door slamming behind him. I drop the phone, scrambling to find my clothes, but my leggings are ripped and full of cum. By the time I throw Dare’s T-shirt on, he’s already peeling out of his driveway.

“Fuck!” I kick the side of his couch.

“Lo!”

Shit. Jesse. I pick the phone back up, bringing it to my ear.

“Dare’s coming.”

“Oh, goodie. Two against one. This should be fun.”

“Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Who, me? Never.”

I can hear the smirk in his voice, and it does nothing to calm my nerves. He hangs up without another word. I try to call Dare, for the first time ever, but it goes straight to voicemail. I clasp my phone between both hands, bringing them to rest under my chin as I pace the living room floor.

This night is never-ending.