Bad Intentions (6 page)

“It’s a giant barn,” Zoe adds. “It’s not on school property. Honestly, I don’t know whose property it’s on, but it’s huge. Over the years, it’s become sort of like a hangout spot. Each senior class shows the incoming athletic teams the place.”

“I’m not in a sport. Does that matter? I don’t want to be the girl who gets kicked out of the party. That would be super lame.”

“Usually it would, but you’re Tank’s date tonight, remember? He’s on the baseball team, so don’t worry about it.”

I watch in the rearview mirror as a grin spreads across her brother’s face as he drives.

“What about you Ryle, are you on a team at Braxton?” I question, honestly not knowing if he’ll even answer.

“Yup,” he mumbles under his breath.

He’s not big on conversation, either. Duly noted.

We ride in silence, listening to the radio for the last few miles of our ride.

“Welcome to The Casa de Shack,” Tank announces five minutes later, as he puts the car into park.

The passenger side door opens and then shuts with a loud thud, and I realize that Ryle didn’t leave it open for me to climb out. This dude really has issues. I slide over to Zoe’s seat and climb out from the driver’s side door.

“Told you he was off limits. As if any girl could even stand to be around him long enough.” She wraps her arm through the bend in mine.

When they said we were going to a barn called The Shack, I admit a smidge of worry crossed my mind. Now that we’re here, I have no doubt that this is going to be a blast. The building is technically a barn, but it’s not what I envisioned. It’s impressive. My mind had conjured up an unsteady structure that might collapse at any given moment. What’s in front of us is a massive building with what appears to be newish red paint on the outside. Nothing’s falling apart. That’s another plus.

The lot is pitch dark other than a handful of vehicles that still have their lights on. Crowds of people are standing together, hovering around different cars. It looks like they’re smearing paint on one another.

“My lady,” Tank holds his hand out to me. “Could I have the honor of painting you tonight?” He’s bold and slightly cheesy, but I believe he’s harmless, and because of that, I find him adorable. In a brotherly way.

“Of course,” I grin playfully.

Tank lets me choose what colors I’d like to be painted. I pick neon green and pink. As he dabs the paint on, he’s careful not to get too touchy feely. I appreciate his gesture, but all I can think about is how jealous I am of Zoe, as I watch Ryle’s hands glide up and down her exposed arms. She looks about as uninterested as a blind woman standing directly in front Michelangelo’s David, which eases my jealously some. But then again, as he continues to stroke his hand on her flawless skin, my jealously meter goes haywire.

“Warrior Princess,” Tank huskily whispers into my ear.

I stare blankly at him. “What?”

“I gave you warrior stripes.” He pauses and looks at me strangely, like I should understand what he’s telling me. “Your face. I put a line of paint under each eye like a warrior going into battle. It’s cute.”

Thank goodness it’s dark
, I muse, as my face heats up. I didn’t even notice him painting my face. I’d been too preoccupied staring at Ryle.

After several introductions to people I know I won’t remember tomorrow, things seem to blur together. My feet feel like cement blocks are tied to them. I practically have to walk with my hands out in front of me as I make my way from the keg in the center of the dark barn back to where my new friends are standing. As much as I want to blame it on the darkness of the barn, I know it’s equally due to the alcohol running through my veins.

“There you are!” Zoe shouts as I near her side, practically stumbling. “I have to pee. Come with?” Before my lips open to form an answer, I feel her hand slide in mine as she all but drags me behind her.

“They have a real bathroom in here?” I ask surprised, and wonder for the tenth time, who built this thing and where they got the funding.

“Duh. I’m not about to piss in the grass like some animal, are you?” She hands me her flashlight.

“Nope,” I mutter, while walking to the closest unoccupied stall. Considering there are only three, I’m lucky there’s one open.

“Yeah…baby…don’t…stop!” The moans of someone breathlessly grunting in the large stall beside me makes my pulse rise and my eyes widen. My hand shoots up to cover my mouth. It muffles my astonished laughter.

Is someone having sex in the bathroom? My drunken brain reminds me that it’s okay to screw someone in a public place. My sober self would argue that it’s never okay, remotely acceptable, or even sanitary. But tonight, my right-or-wrong meter seems to blend effortlessly. I’ll blame it on whatever is in the keg.

The door to the stall squeaks on its hinges as I open it, do my business, and slide out quietly. Without thinking, I wash my hands, before I notice that there are no paper towels. Wiping my hands on my denim shorts, I call out and swing the flashlight around the room. “Zoe?”

There’s no answer, only more moaning and
yes pleases
.

Bending down, I can see four feet in the last stall, and no feet in the one Zoe had previously occupied. Lovely, I think to myself as I brush hair out of my face and open the door. Music is blaring from speakers placed around the premises. I’m glad it’s not rap. Honestly, I don’t know what genre it is —maybe alternative. Everyone seems to enjoy it by his or her body language. Then again, they’re all wasted. Heck, I even enjoy it.

Much to my surprise, the corner where Tank, Zoe and their friends where standing is now vacant. I open the door opposite to the one we entered in the front of the building, and am shocked when I see so many people outside. The moon shines down, illuminating their painted arms, legs and torsos.

I spot Zoe’s fiery red hair, but don’t immediately recognize anyone she’s sitting with. There is a bright orange fire burning, and everyone is scattered around it.

“Friend,” I holler, drawing more attention to myself than I’d like. I’m sure I stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else who seems to travel in pairs or groups.

“There you are girl! Get over here. We’re about to play truth or dare.”

She doesn’t mention leaving me in the bathroom. It’s bizarre that she’d just ditch me on my first night here, but maybe she’d said something I couldn’t hear over the excessive growling and pounding of flesh in the adjacent stall.

“We have enough people,” a girl with tight, spiral curls framing her face shouts from across the fire.

“Since when does truth or dare have a limit on players?” My mind may be cloudy, but I’m not stupid.

“Since I said so,” she retorts, her head wagging like a toy bobble head.

Liquid courage meanders through my veins making me feel bolder than I’ve ever felt. “I’m not sure who crowned you Queen B, but I was just invited to play.”

Snorts and howls stir around me, their echoes bouncing off the tree line around us.

“I’m uninviting you.”

Every muscle in my body tenses as a surge of anger rushes over me like a forest fire. Who does this girl think she is? “Who are you, the fun Nazi?” Her face contorts. “There’s plenty of room for more players.” I want to drive the point home. “Hey y’all,” I shout behind me to anybody that’s within a close proximity. “We’re playing truth or dare, come join us!” I wave over to the fire pit.

“Naomi, I think you’ve met your match,” I hear from behind me as a group of guys laugh and then raise their beverages in an air salute.

It’s then that I register a familiar face sitting beside the girl I now know as Naomi. When she notices my line of vision, she slides closer to Ryle’s side and nuzzles her olive-toned face into the crook of his neck.

Gag.

“Don’t forget the rules, everyone. Kidding. There are no rules. Play as crude, cruel or classless as your dirty heart’s desire!” someone shouts, as more people crowd around the fire, making a full circle.

My body physically stiffens as I feel an arm snake around my waist. “It’s just me. Don’t scratch me. I know you’re feisty and all.” I relax at the sound of Tank’s voice.

“I’ll go first,” Naomi sneers. “Tank, truth or dare.”

“Dare, baby. Always dare.”

“I dare you to kiss…” she pauses. My heart beats faster, knowing she’s about to say me. “What’s her name?”

I roll my eyes before saying, “I’m Adaley, and I’ll gladly let Tank kiss me.” His arm tightens around me. I tilt my neck to the side and mutter under my breath, “It’s okay. It’s just a kiss between friends.”

“Dare accepted!” Tank fist pumps through the air and then cups my cheeks with his hands. The first thing I notice is how soft they are. For being a baseball player, I expected them to be hard and callused. But they’re not. They’re soft, just like his lips.

“Easy, now!” Zoe’s voice cuts through the air, stopping our tongues from dancing.

“Your turn, hot shot.” I wink and nudge him with my elbow.

“Bradley, truth or dare,” Tank asks, before gulping his drink.

“Truth. I hate your dares. Last time, I broke my big toe when I jumped outta that tree,” Bradley admits, his finger pointing towards a large oak.

“Okay, chicken, truth it is. Tell everyone the last time you got laid. And remember you choose truth. Don’t stretch it.”

“Five days ago.” He pauses. “Right, Zoe?”
Tank snarls beside me, his body instantly hardening. I grab ahold of his shirt in my hand and pull. I do not want to witness a fistfight.

Not today, not ever.

“He’s kidding, Tank! Calm down and take another shot.” Zoe shakes her head, but her face flushes fiercely. She’s totally lying.

“Whatever. He better be kidding. You better be Brad, or I’ll hang you by your damn dick!” Tank threatens and moves around me to a small cooler nestled between two people.

Bradley huffs and quickly asks, “Ryle, truth or dare?” I can tell he’s not keen on being threatened and is trying to move the game along.

“Dare.” Ryle’s voice is cool, calm and collected as he mumbles his answer, like there isn’t another option.

“I dare you to—” Bradley’s interrupted by several females shouting in unison. “Take off your shirt!”

Ryle nods his head to the adorning crowd and grabs the rim of his shirt. Everyone with lady parts around the fire starts to drool. Me included. His movements are slow and sensual, and he doesn’t even bat an eye. Apparently removing an article of clothing in front of a crowd is a typical thing for him to do on a Saturday night. My needy eyes take notice to the “V” that waves hello to me as cloth is lifted from his body.

I melt.

Literally. My body fills like goo, and I wilt until nothing is left but a puddle of want and need.

“Ow ow.”

“Yumola!”

“Sexy beast.”

I feel like I need to wash my ears out. Rolling my eyes, I snatch Tank’s drink out of his hands and down it.
Bottoms up.
I hold the red Solo cup in the air like a silent invitation for someone to top me off. I then watch as Ryle modestly pulls his shirt back over his head. I want to scream
boooo
.

“Adaley,” my name comes out of his mouth in a raspy moan that makes chill bumps break out all over my body. As if Ryle could be any more attractive, he goes and says my name in the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. I store to memory the way it sounded as it danced across his lips, and then peer across the fire to catch a glimpse of him thrusting his jaw forward. Our eyes are momentarily caught in a cat and mouse game. I’m too enthralled to look away, and from what I’ve gathered, he’s too stubborn as well. His voice is tangled with suspense as he asks, “Truth or dare?” Everyone waits for my answer, but I’ve lost my voice.

Light reflects from the moon above, glimmering over the darkness of his eyes. Wisps of dark brown hair curl against the collar of his white V-neck T-shirt. He exudes masculinity. Even from afar, I can see it. I can sense his commanding manner. I know he’s the king of secrets, and I yearn to know every last one of them.

Humoring myself, I reply, “Dare.” My answer causes Ryle to press his lips together thoughtfully. His lids slide down over his smoky eyes, deep in thought.

I pray he dares me to kiss him…with tongue.

I don’t care that I sound like I’m twelve. Don’t judge me.

My chest begins to rise and fall in anticipation. I take a calming breath as his eyes slowly slide open. Is it me, or was that the most seductive sight on the planet? I glance around. Yup. Just me.

Ryle’s lips part, then he inhales and seals them shut again. I wish I were the air he’s holding in his mouth. “Do a back flip,” he says flippantly, sounding seemingly uninterested in daring me to do anything. I physically wince from the lack of passion I’d been desperately expecting.

Either I am a royal idiot, or Ryle is a total tool. He’s given me no indication that he has an ounce of niceness living in that hollow chest where his heart should be, so I go with the latter. He’s a monstrous tool. And not the kind you rake your yard with.

After five seconds—I know because I count them—I recover from the let down and mutter, “Okay.” I glance over my shoulder and spot a flat piece of land. Prancing over to the grassy area, I bend at the waist to remove my sandals and toss them to the ground. I look up and see everyone’s eyes on me, watching intently. This includes Naomi, who I’m sure is wishing I fail and fall flat on my rear. I may be a little past wasted, but I’m always on my A-game when it comes to gymnastics.