I Dare You (The Hook Up 1)

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.

I picture it, the small bathroom hot with our proximity. My body arches toward his and he barely has his jeans shoved down yet he’s inside me, sliding in and out as I moan…

Shit. This has gotten totally out of control. The feisty girl-power woman in me is rebelling at the suggestion of him taking me hard, but…holy smokes, I like it. My heart thunders.

Are you still there?

I type, I have to go.

As you wish.

With a flurry of motion, I turn my phone off and toss it down on the couch. He-Man or Badass Athlete or whatever he calls himself is trouble. I stare at my phone for a few more beats before dashing to the kitchen to drink down a glass of ice-cold water.

Delaney

I am crazy late for class as I jog out of the student center coffee shop. Wearing my black fitted North Face jacket and carrying my huge backpack, I’m a bit unsteady on my feet. I clutch a large coffee in one hand and a donut in the other; both are essential, sweet sustenance and the best part of my morning, especially since I have to head to the farthest corner of campus for my class.

My head is bent down as I head out the glass doors, my gaze catching on a silver Porsche as it screeches to a halt in a primo parking spot near the entrance.

Ugh. It’s Alex, and I do not want to see him.

My fists clench as I take a step back under the shadow of the portico, hoping I can skirt over to the right to miss him before he sees me. Even though he’s constantly sending texts asking to meet up, I’m not ready. He’s even shown up at my door a few times, but I either don’t answer or I have Skye tell him I’m not there.

I’m the unluckiest person alive because before I can turn away, his brown eyes find my face. He pauses, his cheeks reddening. Maybe it’s from the cold that’s still hovering this Monday morning, or perhaps he’s embarrassed. He freaking should be. I recall how he gave me a promise ring on our one-year anniversary, saying he couldn’t wait to make it a real engagement ring. Obviously, his “promise” meant nothing.

He throws a tentative hand up as if he wants to wave, but then it falls flat and rests against his leg.

Dammit. I can’t deal with this confrontation right now. Catching him in the act nearly broke me.

I flip around and barge down the path to get away from him.

His voice follows me, echoes of a timbre that used to send shivers down my spine. “Hey, Delaney! Wait up.”

No. No matter how much I want to go off on him, I’m not stopping. My Converse eat up the sidewalk as I keep my head down and stare at my shoelaces. Just keep going, just keep going—

Smack.

I run straight into another body, one that smells faintly of something I can’t put my finger on, something…exotic and dark.

All I catch in that brief moment is that he’s tall, maybe six-four, with a chest of steel. My coffee sails through the air and lands upside down in the landscaping that lines the walk. I curse. I hadn’t even taken a good long sip yet because it was too hot.

Then, just when I think I’ve managed to keep my donut safe, my feet get tangled and I stumble again into the blond Viking, pressing my donut into his broad chest.

“Dammit,” is the gruff word that comes out of him as his hands reach out to my shoulders. His touch is firm and steadying without overpowering me, as if he’s completely aware of his strength and I’m merely a wisp in his grasp—well, maybe not a wisp. I’m five-ten, and I can hold my own around a big guy.

“Could you watch where you’re going, please?” he says, a flare of annoyance in his tone.

“You’re the one who plowed into me,” I snap back. This is not true, but I’m angry.

I lift my head and meet piercing blue eyes that make me go hot all over. Clear and warm, they have a hint of gray around the iris, giving them a steely look. He blinks as he takes me in, raking his eyes over my messy bun, bulky coat, and leggings. I am not dressed to impress, my face bare of makeup save for quick swipes of lip gloss and mascara, my eyebrows in serious need of waxing. I tuck a strand of pale blonde hair that has fallen out of my bun behind my ear, groaning inwardly. Leave it to me to not only see my ex but run into the unattainable and enigmatic Maverick Monroe immediately after.

My first memory of him is freshman year at the fall bonfire party. He showed up with twins, one on each arm, but somehow he ended up kissing me, claiming some legend about the person you kiss at your first bonfire at Waylon being the one person you never forget.

Yeah right.

He had forgotten about me—obviously—and I’d moved on and met Alex, who at the time was sweet and kind, not the cheating asshole he is now.

In the background, I hear Alex’s voice from behind me, calling my name, but the warrior in front of me has all my attention. Maverick is the one football player our team couldn’t live without. All hard muscle and strength, our defense is legendary in the Southeastern Conference, and it’s largely because of him, the hottest jock ever who thinks he’s the best thing since hairless cats. Maybe he is. I wouldn’t know because I don’t really know him. Sure, I know he has washboard abs and shoulders that make you bite your lip, but I don’t know a thing about his personal life.