I Dare You (The Hook Up #1)(8)



“You are. Is it because you bumped into me?” A small grin curls his lips, and I’m reminded of the arrogant football player I met at the bonfire.

I give him a glare. “No. I barely know you.”

“We can change that.” He cocks an eyebrow.

Oh.

Well then.

“I’m not one of your groupies. I don’t do random hook-ups.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to get to know you.”

I give him a get real look. “Why? We barely talk.”

His gaze flicks back to Alex, who’s also looking for the phone a few feet away. “Now that you’re not dating Alex…”

I let out a triumphant shout when I find the phone and hold it up over my head. Alex is glowering at us, and I think he has been since I pulled my hand out of his. I ignore him.

“Found it, and thankfully it didn’t get wet from my coffee.” Maverick and I stand together and do a little handoff where he gives me the crushed donut and I give him his phone. Our fingers graze, giving me a shiver of heat. I stick my hand in my coat pocket.

Alex touches my arm and shoots an annoyed look between Maverick and me. He’s holding my empty coffee cup, retrieved from the shrubbery, and he also grabbed my small desk calendar, which slipped out of my backpack because I left it half-unzipped in my rush to get out of the house this morning.

“Here, don’t you need this?” He waves it at me.

I give him a tight nod and shove it into my bag without looking at him.

“Are you okay? No bumps or bruises?” Alex asks, running his hands over my shoulders.

“No, I’m fine.” I straighten up and give my chin a little hitch to look at him. He’s not as tall as Maverick, about six-one.

A built-up sigh I hadn’t known I’d been holding in comes out, long and full of pent-up emotion. So what if Maverick is here, listening? It’s not like the entire campus doesn’t already know why we broke up. Gossip spreads like wildfire.

“What do you want, Alex? I have a class to get to.”

He stiffens as he glances briefly at Maverick, who is curiously still standing here. “I just wanted to see you, and…say hello. Now that football is over, I thought we could get together and talk about everything. I never had the chance to tell you I’m sorry in person for…everything.”

An image of him and Martha-Muffin in his bed flashes in my head. “You mean for cheating on me.” Get it right, asshole.

Alex closes his eyes briefly then takes my elbow and gently pulls me aside.

With a sigh, I let him. Maybe if he can say what he needs to, he’ll stop bothering me.

“Don’t be like this, Delaney,” he says in a lowered tone. “Muffin was a one-time thing. I swear I’ve never cheated on you before.”

My heart aches at the memory. I shake my head. “You…you are not the person I thought you were. We’re over, Alex.”

He bites his lip, a pleading look in his eyes. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

I take a deep breath, the urge to flee intense. “I have to get to class now.”

I turn back around, and Maverick is still standing over near the hedge, his face concerned as he watches us. He calls my name as I stomp past, but I keep going.

I just need away from both of them. Football guys can suck it.

I imagine both of their eyes on me and barely resist throwing up a one-finger salute, but those cocky athletes aren’t worth the energy it would take.





Delaney



Being an introvert comes with tells. Sometimes I giggle uncontrollably, but more often than not, I sneeze when I’m nervous. When I’m faced with a situation that tilts my world on its axis, a tingling starts up in my nose, itching and building pressure until finally I sneeze. Senior year of high school, I got caught skipping school, and when the principal called me into his office, I sneezed so many times tears poured down my face. He let me go after stuffing a box of Kleenex into my hands. Sometimes it works in my favor and I can use it as an excuse to make a quick exit, but sometimes it can just be downright annoying.

Like now.

“May I sit here?” a deep voice says from behind me.

My body knows who it is before my brain does, and right away, I suppress the pre-sneeze sensation by inhaling sharply and holding my breath for five seconds.

I slip my glasses down a few notches as I look over to see Maverick staring at me. It’s been a couple of days since the donut tragedy, and we’ve passed each other in the hallway a few times. Once I thought he said something, but I’m too awkward to stop and say, Hey, did you just say something to me? so I just ignored him.

We’re inside the auditorium for our psych class, and my hands flutter around the desk next to me. “Do whatever you want. Be prepared, though—the lights are rather dim back here. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep.”

Somehow he manages to settle his large frame into the cushioned seat and reclines it back, him and his long jean-clad legs taking up all the space next to me—and the air.

“Ah, I could never fall asleep here.” He shoots me a grin, and I mentally put up my shields. Don’t get sucked into the hotness.

I nod, making small talk. “Yeah, it’s an interesting class.”

“And you’re in it.”

Ilsa Madden-Mills's Books