Truth & Dare (16 page)

“That was awesome!” Chris laughed. “Epic!”

I shook his hands from my shoulders. “Well, I’m glad I could provide some comic relief,” I snapped. I was
completely
humiliated and annoyed with everything. This day
had not gone at all how I had planned. No romantic beach, no playing in the water, no kissing in the sand … just a rash on my ass from where the sand scraped me and a bruise to my ego. That kiss I’d been hoping for was looking pretty remote.

“Aw, don’t be that way,” Chris said. “I fall all the time. I just got lucky.”

I wrinkled my nose at him and started off toward Uncle Charlie and Mr. Harper, thinking I’d rather be “boring” than humiliated.

“Nice one,” Mr. Harper said, snickering. He looked so absurd with his white nose and thick glasses, magnifying his olive-green eyes to the size of kiwis.

I tried to laugh, but I might have sounded snotty.

“Turn around,” he said. “Let me see your war wound.”

Oh, yeah, because I so want to show you my ass
, I thought. But I obeyed, looking at it for the first time myself. My entire right butt cheek—besides what was covered by my suit—was red and swollen as though I’d dragged it along sandpaper.

So, not sexy.

Uncle Charlie and Mr. Harper both winced, making
ouch-that
-looks-like-it-hurts noises.

“Yep,” I said, sitting down on the blanket with a grimace. “Nothing like a good ass burn to really put you in a good mood.”

More guffawing from the men.

For a while, I watched Chris help the kids skim board and was comforted by the fact that they did fall several times, though not nearly as spectacularly as I had. Just as I was about to give up entirely on the possibility of salvage the day, Chris started back toward me.

“Wanna see the lighthouse?” he asked, holding a hand out to help me up.

“Sure,” I said. I was just glad he wasn’t making fun of me any more.

As we started off toward the rocks, I heard a call from behind us. “Keep your pants on, there’s kids on this beach!” Mr. Harper’s voice.

I flushed scarlet, avoiding Chris’s gaze.

“Sorry,” he said. “My dad’s kind of a dork.”

I shrugged.

“You’re mad at me,” Chris said.

I whipped around to look at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The whole … skim board thing. I didn’t think you’d take it so hard.”

I sighed, deciding to let it go. “Well, I did warn you.” I smiled to show I was over it. “I’m kind of defective when it comes to athletics.”

We were nearing the lighthouse now, and what few people there were on the beach tapered away until we were all alone.

“In truth,” Chris said, “I thought it was cute.”

I scoffed, feeling my face redden. “Oh, please, that was probably the least cute thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

The lighthouse loomed overhead, throwing us into its cooling shade. Gulls cried from the rocks, dipping in and out of the frothy surf as they fished. It was very secluded where we stood, enshrouded by mangrove trees on one side and the vast ocean on the other. We stopped walking and I tried to calm my nerves by focusing on something other than how cute Chris looked with his hair wet.

“I want to kiss you so bad right now,” Chris said. His husky voice was low and there was a note of uncertainty in it.

I had to lean against the lighthouse for support. My voice came out as only breath when I spoke. “So why don’t you?”

“I thought you were angry,” he admitted.

I shook my head, begging him with my eyes to come closer.

He did. He braced his hands on the lighthouse, leaning over me, surrounding my body with his. I felt his hips against mine, his breath on my cheek. I closed my eyes and awaited the euphoria I was sure was coming.

A light touch; gentle, careful. I leaned in, eager for more. He responded, taking the small of my back and pulling me even closer; his lips were soft perfection on mine. I never wanted this to end.

But all too soon, he pulled back, just as breathless as I was.

“I’ve been dying to do that for weeks,” he whispered with a sinful grin on his moist lips. All I wanted to do was kiss them again.

“Me too,” I admitted. It was so easy to admit. We both knew exactly how the other felt, somehow. As though we’d already said it a thousand times.

“We’d better get back,” he said, nuzzling his face against the skin right under my jaw, kissing it.

“Well, when you do
that
…” I muttered. I turned and caught his lips once more, unable to stop myself. Saltwater and the taste of his breath, his wet hair between my fingers—it was all I could do not to moan in frustration when he pulled away yet again.

“My dad’s going to bust in on us if we don’t get back.” Chris smiled apologetically.

“Okay,” I said. I was trembling so violently, I was scared I couldn’t walk.

But Chris took my hand as we made our way back down the beach and I was sure that with his hand in mine, I’d be able to walk endlessly.

A three-day weekend prevented me from seeing Chris (he was hanging out with his cousins all weekend) so when Monday rolled around I was a half ecstatic, half nervous wreck. What if he’d decided that I was too clumsy for him after all, or too dorky, or too boring? What if he ignored me?

My fears were wasted. The second he saw me, he was at my side and he hardly left it for the rest of the week. He even started picking me up from my house and taking me home from school. It was a development that allowed us ample make-out time in his car.

By Friday, I was sure I was in love with him. But he was the first guy I’d ever dated, ever kissed—at least with my mouth open—so I wasn’t sure if what I felt was love or just infatuation. Whatever it was, I was addicted to it and every kiss made the wanting stronger.

Friday was a game day, which meant I’d get to spend all evening with Chris. At six o’clock, with the setting sun glowing outside the window and the smell of sweaty bodies, dirty bus and brass polish engulfing my senses, Chris and I cuddled into each other at the back of the bus.

For some reason, football games had always been a kind of aphrodisiac for me. Maybe it was the excited energy pulsing through everyone or the sweet smell of sweat in the air, the darkened bus ride home when anything could happen and nobody would know … I’d always had fantasies about having someone to fool around with on game day and Chris was the perfect person to do it with. We made out pretty much incessantly all the way to the football field, stopping only when the parent at the front of the bus would squawk, “Hand check!” We’d throw our hands into the air along with
everyone
else, giggle like fools and then proceed to try and suck
each other’s face off.

I was on an endorphin high all throughout the first half of the game. Whenever the drum line played, I felt butterflies and Kelly nudged me in the ribs too many times to count, whispering that Chris was staring at me. Even when it started to rain, I couldn’t be in a bad mood.

“I think you should go back there and talk to him,” Kelly said, pulling her poncho over her head.

“We’re not allowed to,” I said, though the idea was certainly tempting.

“Oh, come on. He’s been staring at you all night, practically
begging
you to go up there. Just pretend you have to give him something and then hide behind the bass drum for a while.”

“I don’t know …”

“Ugh, you’re such a goody-goody,” she scoffed. “Go flirt with your boyfriend!”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I hissed. It was true, he’d never asked and we’d only been together for a week. “Besides, how much can I flirt when I’m wearing this?” I plucked at my band uniform in disgust. “It’s like a giant banner saying,
Don’t screw me
!”

Kelly snorted. “Well that can’t be helped. Besides, it didn’t stop you from making out the whole bus ride.”

“I have to walk by the color guard,” I groaned, watching them daintily slip their ponchos on over their skin-tight costumes.

But Kelly wasn’t hearing it. “They’re wearing ponchos too, now get going before we have to get ready for the halftime show.” She nudged me out of my seat.

I passed my section leader and said I had to go give Chris something. He eyed me suspiciously, but let me pass.

“Careful on the stairs,” he warned.

The rain was really coming down now. I caught Chris’s eye
as I climbed the metal stands and did my best to give him a sexy wave and a wink.

And then my worst fear came to pass.

My leg fell through the gap in the stands all the way up to my thigh. I screamed as my ankle twisted painfully. For a split second I was sure I would fall right through and land in the putrid mud beneath.

Luckily, I was too big to fit all the way through the slat. But I
was
stuck and my leg hurt like hell.

“Oh my God!” someone shouted. I was right next to the low brass section at the top of the stands and several of them got up to gawk at me.

“Are you okay?” one of the tuba players asked me. His hands hovered around me and I could tell he was trying to decide if he should try to pull me out.

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “But I think my leg is stuck.”

He straightened and called out, “MR. MILLER! LIV IS STUCK IN THE STANDS!”

Complete humiliation.

Why was this happening to me? First the skim boarding incident and now this? Couldn’t I just have one ounce of sex appeal around Chris?

Our band director, Mr. Miller, hurried up the stands,
followed
by the drum majors, the color guard captains and a few random people who’d happened to be passing by at the time.

My face must have looked like a radish.

And then, to make things even worse, Chris was suddenly there, crouched down next to me.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened? I slipped.” I was in no mood to be nice. My ankle was twisted and my leg was in serious pain; the entire band was staring at me and I wanted out. Now.

“That’s what you get for being so skinny,” Chris said as he wiped my wet hair out of my eyes.

“Can you pull her out?” Mr. Miller asked.

“I can try,” Chris said. He locked his hands underneath my arms and tugged, but the movement made pain shoot through my leg like a knife and I yelped. Chris released me.

Mr. Miller sighed. “We’re going to have to call the fire department to cut her out.”

My mouth hit the floor.

“No don’t!” I gasped. “Chris, try again. I can take it. Just
pull
!”

“No, we don’t want to hurt you,” Mr. Miller said.

“I won’t sue you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

He gave me a look and turned to the drum majors. “Get the band ready for the halftime show and I’ll take care of this.” They nodded, and started shouting at the band to ignore me and put on their hats and gloves.

“That means you too, Harper,” Mr. Miller said.

Chris looked reluctant to leave, which was sweet, but I’d rather have died stuck in those stands than have him watch as they sawed me out.

“Just go,” I said, wincing as pain shot through my leg.

He touched my cheek and went back up the stands to get his drum. The band filed out of the stands, stepping around me like I was a puddle of mud. Some people murmured words of sympathy or gave me pitiful looks as they stepped over me, but most gave me looks of the utmost horror, as if they were thinking to themselves,
Thank God that isn’t me!

Ten minutes later, the band was on the field and the fire department was trooping up the stands. The flashing lights had attracted the attention of most of the school. I felt like some sort of beached whale, stuck in the sand and totally helpless.

After much staring and prodding, the firefighters decided that their only option was cutting me out. They even had to evacuate all of the people from the stands, just in case the vibrations from the saw made them collapse.

Oh, please let me die in the fall if it happens
…

Ten more minutes and the entire school was watching as a burly firefighter revved up a chainsaw and began excavating me. If the vibrations hadn’t hurt my twisted leg so bad, I might have been more embarrassed. Mostly, I was just relieved when one of the firefighters tugged me free and laid me down on one of the benches.

I wasn’t as hurt as I thought I was. As soon as my leg was free, I felt much better. I watched from inside the paramedic’s truck as the band performed a rinky-dink rendition of
James Bond
and
Mission Impossible
without me.

Afterwards, Mr. Miller popped his head around the side of the truck.

“How’s our girl?” he asked the paramedic who was bandaging my ankle.

“Just a sprain. Nothing a few days of rest won’t cure.”

“Wonderful,”Mr. Miller said. He turned to me. “I’ve called your parents. They’re waiting at school to pick you up.”

“Great,” I grumbled.

He seemed to realize I wasn’t in the best mood, so he mumbled something about checking on the score and scurried off. I was more than glad to see him go and even happier when the paramedics let me limp back to the stands and rejoin the band.

Everyone cheered when I showed up, which made me smile and want to kill myself at the same time.

“Do you always fall this much or is it just around me?” Chris’s voice in my ear. I turned and he planted a kiss on my lips.

“Just around you, I think,” I said with a sigh. “It’s extremely embarrassing, just so you know.”

Another of his devil smiles. “Like I said before, I think it’s cute.”

“I think you have cute and defective mixed up.”

He chuckled. “You’re far from defective.” His eyes raked over me, a greedy glint in their tan hues. He leaned in, making me glaringly aware of everyone watching us. “I can’t wait to get back in that bus,” he breathed in my ear.

My heart stopped. I was amazed that I no longer felt stupid and mortified, but sexy and excited. I wondered again how he had the power to spin my mood with so few words.

He touched his lips to my ear, sending tingles down my spine, and made his way back up to the top of the stands, where the drum line stood.