Chapter 29
TRU
For one perfect second, I forgot we were a tragedy in the making.
I woke with his breath on my face. I lay there for the longest time, staring at his closed lids, his long, dark lashes, his perfect, strong nose, counting the freckles and moles that had darkened from the sun. He had four new ones from spending the summer on the soccer field.
He’d draped his arm over my chest, hitched his knee over my thigh, and was curled into me like I was his safe space. I never wanted to move.
Dare came awake slowly, first shifting his leg, then his eyes fluttered open one at a time. He focused on my face with a smile. I didn’t see one regret in his eyes.
“Hi,” he said softly.
“Good morning.”
He moved his knee again, accidentally brushing over the hardness between my legs, and I bit back my groan. He saw it in my face, felt it beneath his leg, and we both broke out in laughter.
“Yeah, I’m having the same problem,” Dare admitted.
It was so bizarre. Unfathomable. Darien Carter, my stepbrother, the boy who ruined our friendship over a kiss, admitted I’d made him hard.
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked at me quizzically. “Why what?”
Fuck it. I ran with it. “Why now? What’s changed?”
Dare moved his leg and rolled to his back. With the heels of his hands, he rubbed sleep from his eyes and then raised on one elbow to face me.
“Nothing’s changed. Not when it comes to you.
I’ve always felt this way.” He blew out a big breath that ruffled his bangs.
“Why now? Because I’m failing. Not school, just…
At everything. I can’t keep going on like this.
Being everything for everyone at the expense of myself.
I’m miserable. So miserable I can’t fucking breathe.
I've sacrificed everything, given up the best parts of myself, for what? Where’s the payoff?
All just to please a man who can’t fucking stand me. ”
He laughed bitterly, but all I heard was anger and sadness. I brushed the hair from his eyes. “Your father loves you.”
Dare’s face hardened. “Have you ever asked yourself why he loves you just the way you are, but he holds me to a different standard? The very things he admires about you, your free spirit, your creativity, the courage you showed in coming out, he would never admire those things in me. I have to soldier on and be the spitting image of him. Why, Tru? Why is being me not good enough?”
“I don’t know.” My voice came out soft, laced with compassion. “But you’re right, you can’t go on like this. I see you struggling. I know what it costs you to wake up every day and be someone you’re not.”
“I would have. I‘d have kept right on if it wasn’t for fuckface. Seeing you with him sent me over the edge.”
“His name is Brian,” I said, biting back a giggle. “He's a really nice guy. He’s—”
”Don’t,” Dare silenced me. “Don’t sing his fucking praises. To me, he’s fuckface, and I don’t wanna hear one nice thing about him.” He stared into my eyes, searching for something. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with him. Please, God, tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t. I’ve never… We kissed. I have a feeling he had plans for us last night after the party.”
“I bet,” Dare snorted. “That’s why he kept shoving drinks down your throat.”
“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
Dare leaned closer until his breath hit my neck. “Did you? Did you want it? Were you running to him, or just running away from me?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
His voice whispered over my lips. “Tell me anyway.”
I couldn’t. Couldn’t even swallow. My heart thundered in my ears, and all I knew was that Dare was about to kiss me again.
“Kiss me, Tru.”
My breath hitched. “Are you daring me?”
“No, I’m begging you.”
Something I’d heard him swear a dozen times he’d never do. “You don’t have to beg, just ask me.”
But Dare didn’t ask; he just took.
His lips crashed into mine as if he’d been waiting years to breathe me in. I kissed him back like I was starving and I’d never get another chance.
I parted my mouth beneath his, and he groaned, sliding his hand into my hair, anchoring me there, like I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.
We were chest to chest now, nothing between us but heat and history and six years of what-ifs. His thigh pushed between mine, and I gasped, arching into him instinctively, desperate for more friction, more proof that this was real.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Tell me to stop, Tru. I will.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. I dragged my fingers through his hair and whispered, “Don’t you dare.”
He kissed me again, moving his lips softly, reverently, over mine. His hands explored, tentatively at first, then bolder. Fingertips skimmed the hem of my shirt and slid underneath. The warmth of his palm against my bare stomach made me shiver.
“I’ve thought about this so many times,” he murmured, lips brushing my jaw, my neck. “Touching you. Making you feel good. Making you mine.”
“You already have,” I breathed. “I’ve always been yours.”
He groaned, thrusting against me in a way that made my whole body light up. I rocked against him, our hips finding a rhythm that felt both frantic and inevitable. Dare buried his face in my shoulder and swore under his breath.
Clothes shifted, shirts peeled away, hands finding skin, tracing the lines of a body we both already knew by heart. Every inch of him against me felt like home and danger and everything I’d ever wanted.
He sucked a mark onto my collarbone, and I moaned so loud I bit my lip to muffle it.
“Shit, Tru. Don’t do that. Don’t hide it. I wanna hear you.”
I let go. Let the sounds come—gasps, groans, the helpless whimper when he bit my earlobe, the broken cry when his hand slipped beneath my waistband and wrapped around me like he’d done it a thousand times in his dreams.
Dare stroked me hard and fast, building into a rhythm that made fire consume my body. This was so much better than when I did it alone. It was Dare. It was fantasy made real. And it was hotter than anything I could’ve dreamed up.
He breathed into my ear, my neck, urging me over the edge.
“Come in my hand, Tru.”
I came with his name on my lips, his breath in my mouth, and his hands on my skin, trembling and shattering under his fiery touch.
After, we lay tangled together, damp and flushed and wordless. His fingers traced lazy circles on my chest. Dare kissed each of my nipples, lightly sucking until I giggled and tried to worm away from his mouth.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, locking his arms around me.
I closed my eyes, let the warmth of his body sink into mine, and thought… This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
Not stolen. Not hidden. Just… ours.
But when the haze settled, my brain kicked back online. Because I realized something: he’d given, and I hadn’t given back. He’d touched every part of me like he’d been starving, and I hadn’t even tried to feed the ache I could feel pulsing through him.
I swallowed hard. He deserved more. And God, I wanted to know him—all of him. Wanted to learn what made him gasp, what made him arch, what made his voice crack on my name.
“Dare,” I murmured, shifting so I could see his face. “Do you… want me to—”
His answer came fast. “No.”
I blinked. “No?”
He shook his head, jaw tight, eyes flicking away. “Not now. I’m good.” Then softer, like it hurt, “You don’t owe me anything.”
“That’s not why I—”
“I know.” He pressed his forehead to my shoulder, breathing me in like he needed the scent to stay conscious. “But let me have this. Just this. I wanted to take care of you.”
There was something in his tone—penance, longing, fear—that made my chest clench. Like giving pleasure was the only way he believed he deserved to stay in my arms. Dare still thought he had something to make up for.
I touched his cheek, urging him to look at me. “We’re not done figuring us out,” I whispered. “There’s a lot we still need to talk about.”
His smile was crooked and small. “Yeah. But not right now.”
So I held him tighter. Let him hold me tighter. The rest we could figure out later. Right now was just for us.
The days that followed were a lesson in restraint. And hope. And heartbreak.
Because I’d wake up with Dare’s body blanketing me, warm and greedy and all mine, and then spend the day pretending I didn’t even know him.
He couldn't keep his hands off me when we were alone. On my bed, his bed, that time in the back row of the library when he kissed me until I couldn't breathe, right before pretending I was just some kid in his English comp class.
It was a confusing and vicious cycle. He’d pull me close, kiss me as if I was the air he needed to breathe, then push me away like I was poison.
Every time I saw him in the dining hall or the quad, I’d start toward him, instinct taking over, my body remembering the night before, his lips, his mouth.
And every time, he’d turn away, find his friends, pull his phone out, and suddenly get really interested in a conversation that didn’t involve me.
I waited for him to call me over and introduce me, but in the end, I just stood there, gawking like a fool.
I tried to convince myself it didn’t hurt, but it hurt like hell.
By the third day, I finally confronted him. He’d slipped into our dorm again late, with that guilty look in his eyes and a backpack still slung over one shoulder. I was already under the covers, pretending not to care.
“Why won’t you look at me in public?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He froze mid-step.
“I mean, I know we’re not… a thing. Or maybe we are. I don’t know. But this thing we’re doing? It doesn’t have to feel like I’m your dirty little secret.”
Dare’s face crumpled in that way it did when he wanted to argue but couldn’t. He dropped his bag, ran both hands through his hair, and sat on the edge of my bed without looking at me.
“I’m not ashamed of you, Tru,” he said eventually. “I’m scared.”
The Dare I’d come to know over the last few years would never have admitted that. He’s trying. Changing. “Of what?”
“Of what it’ll mean. To say it out loud. That I’m not who everyone thinks I am. That I’m not the perfect son, the golden boy, the future lawyer with a hot girlfriend. That I’m… me. And I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
My heart ached at the rawness in his voice. “You think I haven’t been scared this whole time? You think coming out was easy for me? I still walk into rooms and wonder who’s gonna look at me differently or bully me.”
Dare's head snapped up, and he glared furiously. “Who’s bullied you?” he demanded.
“Just you,” I admitted quietly, almost amused at his outrage. He had the decency to look ashamed before his smile turned wicked.
“Well, that’s different. It’s us. You’re mine to torture.” His hand moved to my hip. “And to kiss.” Dare tugged the blanket down, revealing my bare shoulder. He pressed a kiss there. He lay down beside me, staring softly into my eyes. “But you did it. You were brave.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t feel brave. I just got tired of hiding.”
He exhaled and reached for my hand beneath the covers. “I’m not ready yet.”
I nodded slowly. “Then I’ll wait. But I want you to know, hiding hurts.”
“I know.” He laughed harshly. “Trust me, I’ve been doing it for years. It makes you feel dead inside.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just leaned in and kissed me slowly, apologetically, making a promise he hadn’t learned how to keep. And then he stayed the night again, curled around me like I was the only place he felt safe.