I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)(10)

I wrinkle my nose. “Regardless if any of that’s true or not, I do what I want.”

He studies me intently. “So you’re dating again?”

“Why do you care anyway?” I ask.

“Hey, Mav, aren’t you going to come sit with us?” It’s a sleek-looking girl with dark hair and a lot of hot pink lipstick speaking from behind the railing that lines the back of the auditorium. Miss Brunette trails her finger along his shoulder, giving him a soft caress.

She sends a half-smile my way, clearly not worried about me being any kind of competition. I don’t reciprocate.

He flicks his gaze at her, showing even white teeth as he smiles at her, but it doesn’t ring true. They chat about class, and I’m fascinated, watching his reaction to everything she says, taking in the way he nods, the non-interest in his gaze. His eyes find mine as she rambles on and on about some big off-campus mixer between the frat houses, and he smiles ever so slightly.

He isn’t into her, and I know it.

I don’t know how I’m able to read him, but it’s as if we have a connection and I get him.

She walks off, hips swaying as she does another little wave over her shoulder.

“You sleep with her?” I ask casually.

He shrugs. “A few times last year.”

Ah. “You’re just a playboy, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had relationships.”

I narrow my eyes at him, feeling prickly. “Yeah? What’s the longest one?”

He cocks a smile. “Dated a sweet girl back in high school for a year…” His voice trails off. “Then things got messed up and I came to Waylon. Football’s been my muse ever since.”

“Doesn’t that get, I don’t know, lonely?”

He stares at me. “Is this an interview?”

“No. I don’t even care.” Total lie. I’m dying to know the scoop on Maverick.

A gruff laugh comes out of him. “I just know when a girl’s a keeper and when she isn’t. She wasn’t.”

“Ah, a keeper—I see.”

“Yeah, you know, the one girl who makes your heart pound like crazy every time she walks into the room.” He’s looking at me with an intensity that makes me breathless.

Does he mean me?

Don’t be ridiculous.

Just then the professor enters and begins his lecture, so I pull out my iPad to bring up the class website and get to work.

I try really hard to ignore how close Maverick is sitting, how his leg occasionally brushes against mine…and I remind myself that getting interested in a cocky-as-hell football player is the last thing I need right now.





Maverick



It’s the same dream again. I try to pull myself out of it, but it’s no use.

Maybe the outcome will be different this time.

Rain slaps at the car and Def Leppard blares on the radio as my father drives our old van. My mother yells at him, her mouth moving in slow motion, the sound disembodied, as if my brain doesn’t want to hear her words. I look over at my little sister and curl my hand into hers. She’s scared, and I have to protect her.

Dread snakes down my spine when a diesel truck’s horn blares at us as we fly past it, our headlights reflecting off his grill.

It’s coming.

My body tenses…waiting.

Just around this hairpin curve.

I have to stop him.

I yell at Dad to slow down.

I scream at Mom to shut up.

But I never say it in time.

There’s a deer in the road, its brown face turning to look straight into our headlights.

There’s a horrible metallic sound, like tin foil wrapping around a piece of meat, and then stifling silence, thick with smoke and fumes. Gas…I smell gas and oil, and it makes me frantic. I’m just seventeen, but I’ve seen movies—I know cars blow up. Maybe it would be better if it did, I think to myself in my dream. If we all just died, everything would be okay.

No, I tell myself. Get out. Live.

I touch my skin, feeling glass. Blood covers my fingers. Dangling from the seat belt, somehow I fight to break free and manage to crawl out of the mangled heap. Mom lies on the pavement, her body twisted like a pretzel.

I hear a whimper and find Raven, a broken doll, her eyes shut as I turn her over—

God, make it stop. Fuck!

I jerk myself awake, my body in a full sweat. Rubbing my hands through my hair, I glance at the clock and exhale heavily. It’s five o’clock in the morning, and there’s no way in hell I can go back to sleep after that nightmare.

My bedroom door opens, and it’s Ryker, one of my roommates and my best friend. We live in an apartment-style suite in Byrd Hall, also known as the athletic dorm. He squints at me with bleary red eyes. “Dude? Heard you thrashing around—you all right?”

I scrub my face one final time and get out of bed, willing my heart rate to slow down. “Same old shit.”

“Car wreck?” He leans on the doorjamb and gives me a concerned once-over. He’s our quarterback, a big dude with a heart of gold, and he knows the fucked-up childhood I lived through.

I nod quickly. “Every time February rolls around, it brings it all back. It’s like I’m in the dream and I keep thinking I can stop it from happening, but I never do.”