I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)(12)

My pride jacks its head up. I was the recipient of a lot of handouts growing up, and I never want to revisit that. “No, I’m cool. I’m making it.”

“Ryker, where’d you go?” comes the sleepy voice of the jersey chaser in his bed.

I arch my brow at him, recognizing the nasally whine even with a wall between us. “Is that Muffin? Seriously? Don’t tell her shit. Her mouth is bigger than your ass.” I pause. “I thought she was doing Alex now?”

I’ve never been with her, but half the team has. A bit of a schemer, she’s never gotten over the fact that I turned her down cold freshman year when she snuck into my room one night and tried to crawl in bed with me.

Ryker shakes his head. “Apparently that was a one-time thing. Alex is probably still in love with you know who.” He cocks an eyebrow and I know he’s waiting for me to comment about Delaney, but I don’t—not going there. Yeah, I’m interested in her, always have been, but she is my teammate’s ex, and that’s touchy.

“Rykeeerrrrr, I need you, big man,” she coos from the other room, her voice making a weird throaty sound.

I suppress a laugh. “Sounds like you’re being paged, bro, and FYI, she’s looking for a paycheck, so instead of worrying about me fighting, maybe worry about Muffin pulling a fast one on you. Wrap it when you tap it.”

“You’re just trying to change the subject,” he mumbles.

I’ve finished dressing so I grab my shoes and shove them on. Once I’m ready, I put on my orange and blue Waylon Wildcats cap and jog past him into the small living area we share with two other players. A quick glance tells me their doors are still shut and I haven’t woken them up. Good.

He follows me and stands there glaring, concern on his face. “Where you going?”

“For a run.” I chug down a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge in the kitchenette.

“At five in the morning? It’s still dark—you might get run over.” He’s got an obstinate look on his face.

“I’ll stick to the sidewalks and areas with streetlights.”

“At least wear pants. It’s cold as shit out there.”

I huff out a laugh. “Dude, are you sure you aren’t a girl?”

He shrugs. “Just worry about you is all.”

“Bye, Mom,” I say sarcastically as I head out the door.





Delaney



He-Man: Are you over your ex?

Me: Why?

He-Man: Just curious. Do you miss him?

Me: Sometimes. But every day is better.

He-Man: You just have to get your groove back. I dare you to go to the library and shout out that Princess Leia is a badass.

Me: What? No!

He-Man: I thought you couldn’t turn down a dare.

Me: How will you know if I go through with it?

He-Man: Oh, I’ll be there watching. What time should I show up?

Me: Dammit. Tomorrow at 8:00 PM. BTW, I hate you. ?




I smile, feeling good as I think about today’s text convo with He-Man. We’ve been texting on and off for the past week, just little messages here and there. He now knows I can sing every word to “Baby Got Back”, and I know he can tie a cherry stem with his tongue. I admit, I spent a few hours picturing that in my head last night.

He hasn’t brought up the whole I dare you to dream about me comment, and neither have I.

It’s Sunday night as I park my Prius at the local Piggly Wiggly and head across the parking lot. I’ve come to the second grocery store past campus, mostly because I don’t want to run into anyone while wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt with no makeup on. I’m just about to pat myself on the back for not seeing anyone, but that all goes to hell when I’m almost to the door and see Martha-Muffin with one of her sorority girlfriends at the self-checkout near the entrance.

Part of me considers just turning around and leaving. I can always come back later, but once Monday arrives, I tend to be overwhelmed with classes and my job at the library.

Don’t let her get the best of you, Delaney.

With my head down, reading the grocery list on my phone, I fortify myself with a mental pep talk and walk through the sliding glass doors.

Don’t make eye contact, I tell myself, but before I realize it, I’m glaring right at her. She looks up, catches my eye, and sends me a sly smile, lashes batting.

Our dislike of each other is palpable and always has been. Skye claims she’s intimidated and threatened by me because somehow I managed to land a football player as a boyfriend freshman year, and all she got was an STD.

She’s wearing her usual, something ridiculous and ill-suited for the cold weather: tall Uggs and a pair of denim shorts lined with lace. Of course, her face is expertly made up, all the way down to the arched eyebrows she probably watched some two-hour YouTube video on how to make.

She finishes checking out and pushes her cart straight over to me, her pert little nose practically twitching with excitement. “Well, well, if it isn’t Delaney Shaw.” Her gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my baggy Waylon hoodie. “Here to raid the ice cream freezer? Just be careful you don’t eat the whole gallon.”

I stiffen. As a matter of fact, I do have chocolate ice cream on my list, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I tell her that.