“No,” I said. “Definitely not.”
Brian shrugged. “Could’ve fooled me. You looked like you were drawing him with your eyes.”
Heat rose up my neck, and I turned back to the field just as Dare slid into a block and sent the ball soaring across the grass. Someone clapped from the bleachers.
Brian leaned against the window ledge. “I was gonna grab coffee at Midnight Oil later. Want to come with?”
My mouth opened, then closed. I hadn’t expected this… any of it. Not the offer. Not the ease. Not the timing.
“I—” I glanced down at the field again. Dare looked up at the building just then, squinting against the sun. For one strange, still second, I thought maybe he was looking at me.
Wishful thinking.
I stepped back from the glass. “Maybe,” I said quietly.
Brian grinned, clearly taking that as a yes. “Cool. I’ll save you a seat. If you want.”
He walked away with a nod, and I stayed there, still facing the window but not looking anymore. The moment was cracked. Not broken, just… fragmented. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure if the ache in my chest was still Dare or the life I kept putting off while I waited for him to want me back.
Because Ihadmoved on, or at least I thought I had, but one midnight swim, one almost kiss, and a tentative truce had me right back circling his orbit again, the same familiar what-ifs churning in my gut.
CHAPTER 24
DARE
Some things bruise deeper than fists. Tru’s words broke something I didn’t even know was still whole.
I knewI shouldn’t follow him. Should’ve turned around the second I saw them. But I didn’t.
I stood across the quad, half-hidden behind the library steps, watching Tru lean into a guy I’d never seen before. He was tall, artsy in a tree-hugging way, and wearing a polo shirt and jacket resembling some model from a men’s fashion catalogue. They were laughing, close enough to brush shoulders. The guy said something, and Tru touched his wrist. Not his shoulder. Not his chest. Hiswrist.
Something about that made me lose my mind.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I didn’t need to. It was written all over Tru’s face—the easy smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He lookedhappy.Withsomeone else.
Quickly, I turned and bolted, almost tripping over my own feet. I pushed through a crowd of underclassmen and took the stairs two at a time to get back to our dorm.
The second I slammed the door, I went for his side of the room. I wasn’t thinking clearly, my rage boiling so hot it made my ears ring. I wanted to wreck something. Leave proof that I still mattered. That I still had the power totouchhim, even if all I ever did now was ruin things.
That’s when I saw it.
The sketchbook. No—journal. Tucked under the pillow, pages fraying at the corners. I yanked it out, thumbed it open… and froze.
My name stood out at the top of the page like a flashing neon sign.
Dear Dare.
No. No, no, no.
I meant to throw it. Slam it shut. But my eyes snagged on the words, and I couldn’t look away.
Sometimes I still dream about you. And when I wake up, for a few seconds, I believe we're still friends.
I don’t know what I did to make you hate me.
If you ever came back, I’d probably forgive you. Isn’t that pathetic?
You kissed me, and then you erased me.
