Her words cause me to flinch, but they aren’t a surprise. Last night, I pushed her too far. I showed her no respect. She has no reason to believe me, yet I want her to. “No. The dare is done. ”
“Because you won last night?”
No, I didn’t. The dare required that Beth and I stay at the party for an hour. We barely lasted fifteen minutes. “It’s over, Beth. I don’t play people I care about. ”
Myriad emotions cross her face, as if she’s wrestling with God and the devil. “You could be playing me. If this is the dare, just tell me. ”
“I did tell you. The dare is over. ” I told Lacy that no one gets hurt on my dares. Especially in this one. How could I be so blind? I thought Beth walked away from the trust fall because she wanted to hurt me. I thought she wanted to watch my team lose. Wrong. Beth didn’t jump because she doesn’t trust and, because of this dare, I’ve ruined any trust she could have had in me.
“Did you win then?” Beth stubbornly holds on to the dare. “Were you dared to make out with me?” The hurt gives way to panic. “You fucking asshole, you did play me, didn’t you? Does everyone at school already know? Are you here for bonus points? Try to fuck the girl, tell your friends, then convince her you want more?”
“No!” I shout, then remind myself to rein it in. I created her doubt when I accepted the dare. “No. What happened between us last night wasn’t about any dare. I didn’t plan it and I would never tell anyone. ”
“So, I’m a secret. We’ll date in private, but not in public. No thanks. ”
Damn. I can’t win. I rub my hand over my head. “I want to be with you. Here. At school. Wherever. I didn’t play you. Just trust me. ”
Beth angles her body away from me. Trust must be the ugliest word in her vocabulary.
Desperate to make everything right, I blurt out, “Ask me for anything and I’ll do it. Trust me with something. I’ll prove to you I’m worth trusting. ”
She assesses me: Nikes first, blue jeans, Reds T-shirt, then my face. “Will you take me into Louisville again?”
The nausea I fought all afternoon returns.
Anything but that. “Beth…”
“I won’t disappear again. I need you to drop me off someplace and I swear I’ll be at the same exact spot you left me at the exact time you tell me to show. You’re asking me to trust you, well…you’re going to have to trust me first. ”
It doesn’t seem fair, but fair went out the window the moment I touched her last night. It possibly went out the window the moment I accepted the dare at Taco Bell. “I did trust you. ” My mouth shuts and everything inside me hardens. The words taste bitter on my tongue. “I told you about my brother. ”
Beth bites her lower lip. “It’s a secret?”
I nod. I really don’t want to discuss Mark.
Worry lines clutter her forehead. “Drunken admissions don’t equate to trust. ”
I sigh heavily. She’s right. “Fine. I have a game two weeks from Saturday in Louisville, but you’re sitting through it. I’m not budging on that requirement. Take it or leave it. ”
Beth’s face explodes into this radiant smile and her blue eyes shine like the sun. My insides melt. This moment is special and I don’t want to let it go. I’m the one that put that look there. “Really?” she asks.
Do I want her to come to my game? Do I want the opportunity for her to see that I’m more than some stupid jock? “Yes. Don’t play me, Beth. ” Because I’m falling for you, more than I should, and if you betray me again, it will hurt like hell.
The smile fades and she solemnly answers, “I won’t. When we go into Louisville, I just need an hour to myself. ”
An hour. To do what? See Isaiah? I guess she could. I only asked her to date me. She’d probably bolt if I said the word relationship, even though I have no interest in seeing anyone else. I went too fast with her last night.
This time, I’ll go slow. “I’ll give you an hour alone in Louisville. Then we’re going on a real date, even if it kills us. ”
Beth rejoins me on the steps. Her knee rests against mine and we lapse into silence.
Typically, silence with girls makes me uncomfortable, but this one doesn’t bother me.
She doesn’t have anything to say. Neither do I.
I’m not ready to leave and it appears she’s not ready for me to go. Beth, out of anybody, would tell me what she really wanted or thought.
She finally breaks the silence. “How do I take my name off the homecoming list? Does it require a two-thirds vote of the student population or do I have to ask someone in the front office?”