I Dare You (The Hook Up 1)

“You’re incredible.” He takes the containers of food I hand him, gives me one last look, and then he’s out of the kitchen and out my door.

I watch him go, hoping like hell I’m not going to get hurt.

Delaney

I’m ready for class on Monday at least an hour before it starts. Part of it is that I didn’t sleep well over the weekend, thinking about Maverick and Raven and how much pressure that must be when he’s so young and has such a big future ahead of him.

Since I haven’t seen him since Saturday, I take extra care with my hair, blowing it out and straightening it until it’s a thick blonde curtain. Last night, I carefully scoured my wardrobe and came up with a tight-fitting lilac sweater and a pair of smoke-gray skinny jeans that curve over my bum. Now, with a careful hand, I apply extra dark red lipstick.

I saunter out to grab a cup of coffee and find Skye sitting at one of the barstools at the island, her head bent as she inhales her early morning brew.

“What’s up, girlie,” I call out, and she just grunts. She isn’t a morning person like I am. “I made some chocolate chip cookies this weekend if you want some,” I tell her as I breeze by to grab a mug from the cabinet. “Nana’s recipe.”

She gives me a little mumble.

I pour my coffee and toss in a healthy amount of French vanilla creamer from the fridge. “They are your favorite, right?”

She nods, her hands gripping her cup as she lifts it up for a long swig.

“Skye? Are you okay?”

She shakes her head. “Not really.”

I sigh. I should have known something was up when she came in last night and didn’t even pop her head in to say goodnight. Normally she’d check in with me on a Sunday just so we could recap the weekend.

“Did you and Tyler fight?”

She raises her head, and I see dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She grimaces. “I know, I look like hell. I slept horribly—I’m surprised I didn’t keep you up with my tossing and turning.”

I was doing my own tossing around in bed.

“What did Tyler do?” I say.

She grunts out a laugh. “Funny how you knew this was about him,” she sighs. “We were at the baseball house watching a movie with a bunch of people and he just started…being a dick and ordering me around, like he expects me to be his maid or something. He asked me to clean his room and I told him to fuck off. Then I go to the bathroom and when I come back, there’s some stupid girl in his lap.”

My stomach drops. What a douchebag!

She bites her lip. “So I get pissed and we have words then he kicks me out of the house and tells me not to come back until I’m ready to apologize.” She uses air quotes.

“I’m so sorry.” I always knew he was a jerk, but of course, I don’t say that.

A tear makes its way down her face and immediately I’m next to her with my arms around her shoulders as she leans into me. “Hey, don’t cry.”

Her hands tighten around her coffee mug. “Ugh. I can’t believe I’ve spent the past few months dating him.”

I rub her back. “You know what? Let’s plan our spring break trip tonight. Going to the beach always makes you feel better. We’ll lay out in the sun and forget all about our ex-boyfriends.”

She nods, wiping at her face. “How was your weekend?”

I almost tell her about Maverick, but then decide to wait. “It was great.” I hand her the container of cookies and pop the top, letting the scent of sugar and chocolate waft around us.

She lets out a long sigh. “God, those smell amazing.”

“Five hundred calories each, but who the hell cares?”

She takes one and smiles.

Later, I arrive at class and take my seat in the back of the auditorium. When our professor arrives and Maverick still hasn’t shown up, I’m nervous. The teacher is adamant about attendance, and there’s no excuse for missing a test unless you’re practically hospitalized. Then again, he is an athlete, and I know from experience they get away with missing class all the time. Still, that isn’t really Maverick’s style. The man has a brain to go along with all that brawn.

So, where is he?

I feel odd as I look through the history of the text conversations with He-Man. I have a different perspective now that I know it was Maverick. It was Maverick who rescued me from my blind date, showed up at the grocery store, and dared me to say I was a badass in the library. I change his name in my phone to Mav-Man and send him a text.

Where are you? We have a test today.

Not coming today. I’ll explain later.

The professor approaches me to give me a stack of papers that are part of the test, and I slide my phone into my bag after switching it to silent.

Whatever he’s doing, I hope all is well.

Maverick

“There must be at least three hundred people packed in this ballroom,” Ryker mutters as he stands next to me on Monday afternoon, surveying the milling crowd. “And they’re all rich assholes.”

I tighten the fingerless leather gloves on my hands and focus on taking deep breaths. Instead of being at Waylon today, we both skipped class to drive to Tunica, Mississippi, for the fight. We’re standing in the corner of a ring underneath a glittering chandelier inside a riverboat casino owned by Leslie.

Standing in my corner as we wait, Ryker grimaces. “This place reeks of cigarette smoke. God, I hate casinos.”

I force a laugh, shaking off my nerves as I do a few air punches and bounce around on my feet. “Isn’t this the first time you’ve been to one?”

He shrugs. “Still don’t like them. This place is trouble.”

Hell yeah it is, yet here we are.

I look around the room, taking in the high-dollar crowd sporting tailored suits and tailored gowns. Just to get in the door, the crowd had to get Leslie’s personal approval as well as put up several grand. The kicker is I have to win to get the fifty grand I negotiated.

My stomach feels like it’s filled with lead, and I’m doing my damnedest to keep my eyes averted from the stares of the women and men who have their eyes on me as they sip from champagne flutes.

“Don’t look at them,” Ryker says firmly. His mouth is a thin straight line, and his face is harder than I’ve ever seen it. He hates that I’ve made this decision and he doesn’t approve, but he’s the kind of friend who’s not going to leave my side.

“I just want it over with.”

He swivels his head as the competition stalks into the ballroom from a side door. It’s a showoff of an entrance by a monster of a man. He’s around my age, flanked by two girls in low-cut dresses. He stops in the middle of the aisle, letting the spotlight dance over his broad chest as he puffs up and does a strut up to the ring.

He’s massive, at least a couple of inches taller than me, which puts him around six-six. Swirls of brightly colored tattoos cover nearly every inch of his thickly muscled skin. Appearing to be of Polynesian descent with a wide chiseled face and a braid of long hair, he smirks at the crowd, shaking hands with some of the attendees.

I hear a sharp inhalation from Ryker. “Is that Kai Willis, the linebacker from Ole Miss? Goddamn, he’s huge.”

I exhale, the lead in my stomach getting heavier. “Shit.” Ole Miss is our biggest rival in the SEC and “Killer” Kai is their star linebacker, so it makes sense that Leslie would want us to fight.