Truth or Dare (25 page)

Sydney grabbed his hand, kissing the tattoo on his wrist. His flashlight jostled, making a spot of light dance through the air. “I guess you’ll just have to watch and see, won’t you?”

Guinness laughed. “Want to put your money where your mouth is, little golfer?”

Sydney wrapped her arms around his waist. He was wearing a thin sweater and she had the sudden impulse to bury her face in its soft fabric. But instead, she smiled up at him. “A bet? I like the sound of that.” She pulled away, galloping over to the first tee box, dragging her club behind her. “Last one to make the hole has to…” She paused, cocking her head to think. Suddenly she clapped her hands together. She could feel the beer working its way through her, making her feel daring, impulsive, like someone else completely. “Last one to make the hole has to remove an article of clothing,” she declared.

“I like the way you think, Blue.” Guinness trained his flashlight on her golf club. “Ladies first.”

Ten minutes later, Guinness had sunk his ball in three strokes, and Sydney was still chasing after hers, trying to get it within five feet of the hole. The sun had disappeared, leaving the golf course draped in blackness. Sydney moved her flashlight around, but the small circle of light did little to break up the darkness. “How did you ever manage to get it in?” she whined to Guinness as she finally spotted her ball peeking out from underneath a rosebush.

“I got my first set of golf clubs when I was two,” Guinness said wryly. “Didn’t you know that?” He snatched the ball out of her hand.
“I think fifteen shots is the max, Syd.” He eyed her blue bra strap, which was peeking out from beneath her shirt. “I believe you owe me an article of clothing.”

Sydney locked eyes with Guinness. “I believe I do,” she said slowly. She unbuttoned her plaid shirt, tossing it to him. He caught it one-handed as his eyes slowly trailed their way down to her new lace bra.

A smile flickered on his lips and for a second she was sure he was going to kiss her. But instead he grabbed his camera, drawing it to his eye. “You,” he said in a quiet voice, “look beautiful.” He snapped a picture, the shutter making a familiar click. Sydney laughed as a breeze picked up, lifting her hair off her shoulders. Under the moonlight, with Guinness watching her like that, the shutter clicking away like an old, favorite lullaby, she
felt
beautiful.

She stepped closer to Guinness, swatting away his camera. Suddenly she could feel the words surfacing inside her, rising like a balloon—
I love you, I love you
—but she swallowed them back. She knew that if she opened her mouth, if she said anything, they’d come tumbling right out. So instead she kissed him.

His camera slid from his hand, his shoulder strap catching it. And then he was kissing her, urgently. His hands were on her bare skin—her stomach, her neck, her back—and even as the breeze picked up, whipping around them, she felt warm all over. They sank into the grass, letting their flashlights drop. As always, Sydney lost track of time as she melted into him, and when Guinness’s phone buzzed after who knew how long, she pulled away, feeling breathless. As he took his phone out of his pocket to check his text, she found herself feeling almost relieved. She’d bought the lingerie thinking maybe,
maybe
… but every time they came close, something kept holding her back.

“Crap.” Guinness sighed. “Family stuff. I have to get back, Syd. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney assured him. She grabbed her shirt as they stood up, pulling it back on. “I should probably get home, too.”

Guinness tapped her nose, then leaned down to kiss her. “To be continued?”

Sydney laughed as she gathered up her abandoned golf club and flashlight. “As long as you swing leftie next time,” she joked.

When Guinness dropped her off at her apartment a few minutes later, Sydney couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t believe she’d thought for even a second that Guinness might be the darer. He was the only thing keeping her sane right now.

But when she got to the front door of her apartment building, any trace of peacefulness she’d been feeling vanished in an instant. There, taped to the door, was a piece of paper. Sydney reached for it as if in a dream.

But as she opened up the paper, she found herself staring at the darer’s now-familiar typewriter font.

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, Baker’s man--or should I say, Bakersfield Boy? Here’s your dare, lover-girl: Give that Baker the kiss he’s always wanted… unless you want your darkest secrets to see the light of day.

Sydney let out a soft gasp. Spinning around, she furiously scanned the parking lot. She swore she saw a flash of movement on the other side of the building by the trash cans. She took a few steps closer, her
heart beating loudly as she squinted into the darkness. Suddenly she remembered Guinness’s flashlight; it was still in her purse. Quickly, she fished it out. Holding her breath, she shined it on the trash cans. One of the cans was rattling slightly, as if it had just been jostled. But whoever had been there was gone.

Breathing heavily, she pulled her phone out of her purse. She suddenly had no desire to be alone in her apartment. Calum picked up after only two rings. “Calum Bauer at your service,” he announced in an overly formal voice.

“Remember that offer for a ride?” Sydney asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“For Supergirl?” Calum replied thoughtfully. “I believe I do remember that.”

“Well, I’m cashing in. Want to come get me for a coffee run?”

“As long as you don’t mind that caffeine consumption at this hour will undoubtedly disturb your REM sleep—”

“I’ll take my chances,” Sydney cut in. “So what do you say? Come pick me up?”

“I’ll depart immediately,” he told her. “Be there in twenty.”

As Sydney hurried into her building to wait for Calum, she tried to clear her mind—to think about anything but the darer. But the same two thoughts kept creeping back in.

Who the hell knew about what happened with Joey Bakersfield?

And worse: Who the hell wanted to see a repeat?

Wednesday, 8:15
PM

AAAH,” TENLEY MURMURED AS SHE TURNED THE
jets on in the hot tub. The night air was brisk, but the water kept her toasty warm as she leaned back against the porcelain rim of the tub. It was a definite perk of being Lanson Reed’s stepdaughter. She had her own personal spa at her disposal. And after the craziness of this day, she’d earned a night of relaxing.

She’d been hoping she could just ease back into Winslow—resume her spot at the top as if she’d never been gone. But she hadn’t counted on Emerson throwing a wrench in her plans. Today at lunch, when she’d seen Emerson sitting in the seat that should have been Tenley’s, laughing with the friends that used to be Tenley’s, she had suddenly felt like a ghost. Like the old Tenley was dead, and in her place was Emerson.

And then of course there was the darer, whoever it was. She almost hoped it was Emerson. At least then Caitlin would have to see the light about her. Tenley shifted in the tub, sending trails of foam spiraling around her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized just
how much Emerson stood to gain from the dares. Already she’d been bumped up to captain on the cheer squad. If she managed to banish Tenley and Caitlin into social oblivion, she would be the only one left at the top. Of course there were Marta and Tricia, but from what Tenley had seen, they were more worker bees than queen bees. Tenley thought of all the senior-year fare coming up that year: homecoming queen, prom queen, “most popular” in the yearbook… With Caitlin and Tenley out of the picture, Emerson would be a shoo-in for every single one.

The whole thing made Tenley’s heart rate spike. She did not like being played with, and she did
not
like being replaced. And for that matter, she didn’t like being spied on either. An image of Joey Bakersfield standing under the bathroom vent flashed through her mind. Just how much of their conversation had he overheard? And the real question, the one that had been plaguing her all day: Had he been
trying
to overhear?

Tenley shoved away the thought. Closing her eyes, she sank deeper into the hot tub. This was exactly what she needed. Forget Emerson. Forget Rabies Boy. Forget the darer. Who cared about them? She was Tenley Mae Reed.

“The most powerful things come in small packages,” her dad used to say. “Dynamite. Fireworks. And my Tenley Mae.” She was still that same girl. People like Joey—and even Emerson—got lost in her shadow.

Next to the hot tub, her phone rang out with a text. Tenley shook a few droplets of water off her hand as she reached for it.
Finally.
She’d texted Guinness almost an hour ago to see if he was up for some hot-tubbing, and she still hadn’t heard back. She hoped he was texting to say he was on his way. The only thing better than a hot tub was a hot tub with a hot guy in it.

But the text was from her mom.
Where are you??? At Byrne Theater and the run-through is about to start!!!

Tenley jumped to her feet, her bubble of relaxation popping instantly. Grabbing her towel, she jogged back to the main house, shivering in the night air. She’d completely forgotten about the pageant run-through tonight! Skipping a run-through was basically the same thing as forfeiting the pageant. Which meant her mom was probably frothing at the mouth right about now.

When she reached her room, she stripped off her wet bathing suit at warp speed and threw on dry clothes. Byrne Theater wasn’t far. If she sped, she could still make it.
Be there in 10. STALL
, she texted her mom as she raced downstairs. On her way she passed Sahara, who was watching yet another news show on the wrap-up of the Lost Girl trial. “Too busy with your little soap opera to remind me I had my pageant run-through, Sahara?” she asked angrily. She stormed outside, not bothering to wait for a reply.

Tenley’s mom was up by the stage when Tenley sprinted into the theater. Trudy had a freshly manicured hand resting on the arm of Samuel Allon, the pageant’s director. She was smiling brightly, her double Ds peeking out of her shirt like always. “But I told her,
of course
you have to save the puppy!” Tenley heard her saying.

Out of the corner of her eye, Trudy spotted Tenley. “There she is now. Ten Ten!” She waved her hand wildly through the air, as if there were any way Tenley could miss her in her aqua silk shirt, tight-fitting tan pants, and matching aqua stilettos. Her mom stuck ardently to the belief that tan pants—even ones that required her to forgo underwear—turned any outfit into a “business suit.”

“I was just telling Mr. Allon here about the poor little puppy you had to bring to the vet, Ten Ten.” Her mom gave her a pointed look and Tenley quickly plastered her own smile on, pushing a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead. She could feel her mom eyeing the outfit
she’d blindly thrown on: an old yellow skirt and white tank that had been at the top of her drawer.

“Puppy, yes,” she said quickly. She was panting a little from racing in from the parking lot, and she coughed, trying to conceal it. “But everything’s… fine now.” She glanced over at her mom, who gave her a sharp nod. “The puppy’s great,” Tenley added.

“Well, that was very noble of you, Tenley,” Samuel Allon said. Tenley wondered what exactly her mom had told him. That she’d saved a dying puppy in the street?

“
Very
noble,” her mom agreed. Her smile widened, but Tenley wasn’t fooled. She knew the second they were alone, that smile would disappear.

“Since you’re up here already, why don’t you start the run-through off for us, Tenley?” Samuel suggested.

Tenley swallowed back a groan. She could have used a minute to catch her breath and compose herself, but fine—might as well get it over with. “Sure,” she agreed in as cheerful a tone as she could muster. She reached into her backpack for her ribbons, but only one came out. “Just a second,” she murmured, rooting around for the other. Her fingers closed around two textbooks, a notebook, and several pens, but no ribbon.

Tenley’s mouth turned to chalk. She could have sworn she put both ribbons into her bag when she finished practicing at school. One must have fallen out during one of her classes. “Looks like the, uh, puppy must have gotten my other ribbon,” she said weakly. “I’ll make sure to get a new one for Saturday.”

She was sure her mom was shooting eye daggers at her by now, but she avoided her gaze as she went up on the stage. Immediately, a spotlight switched on, blinding her. Usually, Tenley loved the spotlight. It gave her that same rush she used to get when she set up for the beam or
the vault at a gymnastics meet, the knowledge that at that second, all eyes were on her. But today, with her shoulders still damp from the hot tub and only one ribbon in her hand for a two-ribbon routine, she felt strangely uneasy, as if instead of a spotlight, she was standing under a microscope.

In the distance, Tenley could hear the stagehands fiddling with the lights, trying to get the level of brightness right. “We don’t want to make her too pale,” one of them whispered. She tried to ignore them as she launched into a one-ribbon version of her routine. That was the whole point of a run-through, after all, to get the sound equipment and lighting set up in advance. But as the music blasted out of the speakers above her, she couldn’t seem to find her rhythm. Her steps were off a beat and her ribbon kept flapping unevenly around her.

She took a deep breath, trying desperately to get back in rhythm, but her whole balance was off. And as she bent into her back walkover, coiling the ribbon through her legs, she must have aimed wrong, because the silky, slippery ribbon shot under her hand, and suddenly her arm was slipping out from underneath her—and she was landing on her butt with a thud.

Blood pounded in her ears as she clambered back up. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I can start agai—”

“That’s fine,” Samuel Allon called out, cutting her off. “We got what we needed.”

Immediately, the music stopped and the spotlight went dark. Tenley blinked as the theater came back into focus, dozens of eyes staring up at her from the audience. Eyes that had just seen her royally mess up. She could feel her cheeks starting to burn, and she quickly lowered her head, hurrying off the stage. She knew her mom was somewhere in the first row, but the last thing she wanted right now was to see the look
of horror on her face. So she kept her eyes glued to the ground as she walked to the back of the theater, slumping down in the very last row.