I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)(5)

You’re Delaney, a junior from North Carolina.

My pulse kicks up as I feel my heart beating in my chest, but those are basic facts he could have gotten off my social media.

He sends another text. Truth: I think you’re gorgeous. We also know each other…sorta.

He thinks I’m gorgeous? My bruised ego is flattered, and I shoot a look at Han. “Did it just get a little hot in here or is that the vodka talking?” He rolls his eyes and flounces off to the kitchen. “Are you saying I’ve had too much?” I call after him, but he pointedly ignores me by not turning around.

I stare down at my phone, wondering what else to say. I should probably end this, but I feel an odd connection with my new texting partner.

I could talk to a random guy.

I want to.

Do it, Delaney. I mentally dare myself.

Are you still there? he says. Did I go too far? I tend to do that. I should just apologize in advance for anything I’m about to say or do.

He hasn’t gone too far. My interest is piqued. So who are you?

I’m a badass athlete.

I roll my eyes. So you play a sport here at Waylon?





Yes.


Crap. My heart does a little sputter and takes a nosedive—it’s likely he knows Alex. The athletic dorm is situated on the west side of campus, and most of the players reside there. Football, baseball, and wrestling take up one side of Byrd Hall, while soccer, volleyball, tennis, and the minor sports occupy the other.

I purse my lips. Which sport? I’ve sworn off football for the moment.

Let’s keep that a secret, but if you need a name, you can call me He-Man.

And I’ll be She-Ra?

His reply is swift. Hell no—they were siblings. Pick another name, something that suits you.

Does He-Man suit you? I type. Do you live at Castle Grayskull? Are you fighting Skeletor?

Damn straight. I kick his ass every day.

I grin. You’re very serious about this. I’m starting to wonder if you might be crazy.

Just pick.





Princess Leia.


Perfect, he replies. I’m picturing you with cinnamon buns on your head.

I giggle. I’m picturing you as a muscled blond dude with a brain the size of a walnut.

Don’t be fooled by the dumb jock stereotypes.

And you shouldn’t be fooled by my nerdy, quiet girl status. I’m a red-blooded woman with needs. God. I can’t believe I just typed that. I take another sip of vodka. What I MEANT to say is I don’t do athletes anymore, specifically football players. Okay, that sounded stupid. Clearly, I need to stop texting.

Nothing comes back from him, and my mind wanders.

Is he a football player? That might explain why he’s not telling me his name. The guys on the team have a serious bro code when it comes to not messing with the exes of the other players.

I decide to change the subject. My roommate dared me to watch a scary movie tonight—alone. I was terrified.

Do you like dares? he texts.

Yes. It forces me to put myself out there. It feels silly to say, but it’s easy to tell him because I don’t know him. I’m beginning to see why anonymity is attractive.

I hear Han meowing at the back door. He has a litter box in the laundry room, but he’s rather manly and likes to go out for an occasional romp around the yard to mark his territory. I like to go with him since my last cat disappeared on me a year ago, leaving me devastated.

Hey, I need to go, I tell my mystery man. My cat needs me.

Wait, you said you take dares, right?





Yes.


I dare you to dream about me tonight.

What? Why? I ask, my heart rate picking up a beat.

Because I’ll dream about you.

Oh. I bite my lip and chew on it. Like a sexy dream?

Is that what you want?

Yes.

My body comes alive, every sense on alert. It feels like forever since someone kissed me or made my stomach feel fluttery inside.

I type out, I need more details if I want to picture you in my head, especially since I don’t know who you are.

You know I’m an athlete, I’m blond, and I like to swing my sword around.

I giggle. Where are we in the dream? Give me a setting. I need more.

A few moments go by before he finally responds. At a frat party. Everyone else is downstairs and you and I are upstairs in an empty bathroom.

Seriously?

This is my fantasy, Princess Leia. Just listen.

Fine. What are we doing? The room feels warmer, and my fingers are sweaty as I type the words. I picture myself with a dark shadowy male in a tiny cramped bathroom. His hands cup my face as he stares down at me, his thumb tracing over my lips. He kisses me on the neck, sending lightning bolts of sensation across my skin.

My body heats to the point that I squirm around on the couch, fingers hovering over my phone.

What do you think we’re doing? he texts.

Kissing?





More.


Shit. Second base?





More.


Home run? I send after a slight pause, feeling lightheaded. This has escalated and I’ll probably regret it tomorrow, but for right now, I don’t care.

We’re going at it against the wall, Princess Leia—hard. I like it hard.