They Wouldn’t Dare

Chapter 1

FALL SEMESTER | SENIOR YEAR

Westbrooke University’s starting tight end stood at my front door, soaked from head to toe.

His jaw was tense, frustration radiating heat from his gaze like the eye of an oven.

Nevertheless, the warmth didn’t pierce through my shield.

After almost a decade of knowing him, I’ve insulated my walls against his weather changes.

Nothing got in or out without my say-so.

It was brilliant (for me) and a point of grievous annoyance (for him).

“Did you do it?” I asked, despite his clear success.

David Evans scoffed, mouth parted, and tongue poking the inside of his cheek. I’d bet good money that before knocking on my door, he’d contemplated if today was his last straw. Tried to determine if today was the day he let me win once and for all.

He raked his fingers through his hair, shoving the short brown strands off his forehead.

The wrinkle between his brows resembles a well-traveled valley.

David’s dark brown eyes looked even more like pits of despair when he was on the verge of giving up.

I straightened with a bit of hope, my back becoming a lightning rod for the endgame.

But, unfortunately, the guy wasn’t a quitter.

David held up a shiny dime. “Here’s your year 1915.”

I grabbed it to confirm the impossibility. Even tried to bend in case of fraud. He snorted at the gesture, and I knew that was the most amusement I’d get out of him tonight.

“No way!” I scratched at the metal, and a bit of polish came off the tip of my red nails. Not a metallic speck in sight. It was real. “How long did it take you?”

“Three hours,” he forced through gritted teeth.

A laugh slipped from my lips. “You dived in fountains for three hours? God, David. You’re something else.”

“No diving necessary. I used a net,” he said.

“Oh…smart.” My shoulders sagged. Though I appreciated his ingenuity, I would have preferred his complete dedication to wading. But I hadn’t proposed requirements for this dare, so that was on me. I’d do better next time.

I tilted my head to the side, considering. “Wait, if you used a net, why are you all wet?”

His jaw ticked once again. For a second, I didn’t think he’d tell me the actual reason.

“I…slipped,” David mumbled.

“I knew I should have stayed with you!” I shook my head, mourning the missed opportunity. “That lecture could have waited.”

“Did you at least take notes for me?” He looked like he didn’t want to ask, even though he had been asking since the semester started.

In all three years at Westbrooke, my political science track surprisingly hadn’t overlapped with his social work major classes.

But in our senior year, my luck had run out.

We shared two courses. It seemed like the university’s final attempt to break me.

“You may copy my notes later. Under supervision, of course,” I offered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have meal-prepping to do and a discussion post to write.”

As soon as I tried to close the door, David used his hand to stop it. “I need to shower.”

I snorted, looking him up and down. Tiny puddles pooled underneath his grimy gray sneakers. Patches of dirt stained the hem of his blue jeans. He smelled like chemicals and wet asphalt. “Yes, you do. Who knows what filth’s in a university water fountain?”

He let out a noise that was one part sigh and the other part groan. “Now, Yara. Right. Now.”

I bit back a laugh after realizing what he was asking. His grip on the door loosened, but the desperation in his eyes remained firm.

“There’s no way I’m letting you track water and muck all over our nice rugs.

” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Haven just cleansed the apartment. And you’re definitely carrying around enough bad karma to undo a day’s worth of goodwill.

I mean, coins in fountains are wishes, right? You just stole someone’s wish.”

I didn’t believe in cleansing, karma, or wishes, but the irritation that appeared on David’s face made pretending worth it.

“You were the one who instigated a stolen wish,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement when I frowned at the statement. “So, where does that leave you?”

I shook my head. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to guilt-trip me.”

“Yara,” David’s voice went at least two octaves lower. It was a method he’d fallen back on since realizing it scratched some unknown part of my brain I had no control over. I’d given that sensitive information away years ago, when I’d been too young and na?ve to know better.

“Don’t make me beg.” His hand fell from the door. David knew keeping me would no longer require physical effort.

I almost readied myself to give him a taste of his own medicine.

But the look in his eyes reminded me of why he’d thought of the net in the first place.

It was the same reason he’d panicked whenever his water bottles got mixed up with the other guys on his team.

And why he’d done everything he could each year (including camping outside the dean’s office for a night) to ensure he got a coveted single-bedroom on-campus housing.

I could be a hard-ass, but I wasn’t heartless. Not completely, at least.

“Okay.” I sighed. “But you have to be quick. Haven’s out. If she comes back and sees you, then I’m in for another cleanse and lecture about letting destructive energy into our space.”

“Deal.” He pushed past the threshold.

“Wait, hold on.” I waved my hands for him to stop.

“Seriously?” He leaned his head back as if the ceiling would answer all his prayers. “Yara, could you just—”

“You’re tracking in water.” I hurried to the bathroom, grabbing a stack of towels.

David looked pissed but kept his commentary to himself. I laid the towels on the ground one after another. With each one placed, David stepped forward as if he were traveling on a row of lily pads.

“Slow down, slow down,” I protested when he kept catching up to me.

“This is ridiculous,” he complained, but stopped on one towel to give me a slight lead.

“I’m not the one who tripped.” I glanced up at him.

David’s hands were on his waist. The position made his soaked t-shirt (which looked a size or two too small) stretch across his chest. The dull gray of his shirt highlighted the reddish undertones of his white skin.

I could make out every tight curve of his muscles.

Besides being impressive on the football field, David was an avid runner.

We’d bumped into one another far too many times on the nature trails back in our hometown.

His wardrobe had changed little since then. Thus, the too-small t-shirt.

“Are we waiting for an alien invasion or for the polar ice caps to stop melting?” David’s voice pulled me away from the foggy nature trails and a memory of him telling me to wait for him whenever the trail got too steep or too remote.

He never believed in my ability to gouge an attacker’s pupils using my safety keychain (despite how often I used to ruin his day at our community center karate lessons when we were in seventh grade).

“You joke, but I think we’re closer to an alien invasion than not,” I teased. His scowl made me laugh. I still jumped into action, though.

Our towel bridge reached the bathroom mat laid out in front of the shower. I smiled, satisfied with the outcome. David seemed more pissed than ever. Although he won his dare, I felt like the victor tonight. His disapproval was catnip to me.

“You can use my soap in the caddy.” I pointed at a blue bottle.

“Lucky me,” he mumbled and went to remove his shirt.

“Whoa, whoa.” I slapped my hand over my eyes. He snorted.

“Well, you were taking so long to leave, I figured you wanted a peek,” he teased.

“You figured wrong.” I waved my hands, trying to feel my way out of the bathroom while keeping my eyes shut. David’s deep laugh tugged at my core. I slammed the door behind me, only to have it open a few seconds later. He tossed a pile of clothes out.

“Excuse me?” I yelped when the clothes fell at my heels. “Are you some sort of speed undresser?”

He ignored my question. “Wash those.”

“I take ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ like a normal human.”

The door shut again. I huffed as the shower started, the curtain rings scraping across the rod.

I’d have to wash his clothes or listen to him complain and put them in the washer himself. If the clothes didn’t get in the wash now, that meant I’d have to endure his presence for even longer.

I took the L, complaining under my breath the whole time. Before picking up the wet (potentially cursed) pile, I grabbed a pair of disposable gloves from the kitchen.

“Slipped or catapulted?” I mumbled with a creased brow as I carted the dripping pieces into our small laundry area.

As usual, Haven still had a load in the wash. I switched her clothes over and poured an insane amount of detergent into the machine. I smiled at the thought of David walking around with not just his skin but clothes smelling like me … Someone could interpret that the wrong way.

And you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Especially if he ran into anyone from home.

I frowned. No. Absolutely not. I wanted a lot of things, but wanting to be seen as David’s and vice versa had never been one of them.

I wasn’t dense enough to deny attraction.

He was good-looking in a way that snuck up on people.

At first glance, he was strikingly average with his dark hair, strong nose, and crooked smile.

Upon second glance, the dark in his eyes seemed like an ode to a Gothic hero, and the way he spoke, ever low and steady, was reminiscent of every villain from some canceled-before-its-time paranormal TV series.

A third glance risked complete fascination.

Luckily, I’ve seen all of his sides. And most of them I didn’t like.

Looks only got someone so far. And unfortunately for David, there were a plethora of kind lookers in the world.