Dare (In Safe Hands Book 2)

by S. M. Shade

  Sadie drags me to a little restaurant famous for its chocolate cheesecake, and we both order a slice. “Look out hips, here it comes,” I remark with a grin, taking a large bite.

  “Spare me, you skinny bitch,” she scoffs. “I swear I was walking through my house the other day and saw something out of the corner of my eye. I had to take a few steps back and stare at the wall to realize it was the shadow of my ass, following me.”

  “Men love that ass, though.”

  “Yeah, they do,” she replies, grinning around a bite of cheesecake.

  “I’ve been talking to someone…sort of,” I blurt. I don’t know why, but I’ve been desperate to tell someone about Dare.

  Her mouth forms an O and she places her fork on her plate. “Details. I want details right now. This is fantastic! I was starting to think you’d never get back in the game.”

  Slumping back in my seat, I shake my head at her enthusiasm. I really couldn’t ask for a better friend. “Don’t get all excited. It’s not like…we’re not dating or anything.”

  “But you’re hanging out?”

  “Sort of.”

  She frowns. “Sort of? How do you sort of hang out with someone? Are you stalking him?”

  “No!” I throw my napkin at her. “He lives next door and—.”

  Her hand clamps onto my arm. “Tell me you’re talking about that mass of tattooed bad boy I saw leaving the apartment next to yours.”

  “Uh, yeah. His name is Dare.”

  Customers turn to look at us as she lets out a squeal and stomps her feet under the table. “He’s gorgeous! Shit, I’d dare. So, you just hang out and talk?”

  “Yeah, our walls are really thin and we can pretty much hear everything the other person does, so we started talking.”

  “Wait.” She holds up a palm. “You only talk through the walls?”

  “I know it’s not exactly normal.”

  “Has he tried to meet you in person?”

  Uh-oh. I shouldn’t have said anything. “He’s mentioned it a few times.”

  “Then why haven’t you?”

  I give her a “don’t be stupid” look and get a glare back in return. Before she can speak, I shake my head. “Just don’t. I like talking to him. He’s fun and interesting, and we both keep late hours. I’m happy with how things are now and if he meets me, I’ll lose it. It’s pathetic, I know.”

  She sighs. “It’s not pathetic, hun. If this guy has won you over just by talking through a wall, he must be something special, and I really think you should give him a chance. Face to face.”

  “And if he runs once he sees me?” I snap.

  “Then he’s a dickhole and I’ll tell him to his face, right before I kick his balls into his throat.”

  See why I love her?

  Her hand closes over mine. “I really don’t think that’ll happen, though, Ayda. I’ve told you before, no one is as conscious of your scars as you. If he’s a good guy, he won’t care. He’ll see how beautiful you are. And if he doesn’t, you’re better off without him, as a friend or anything else. I know you. I know you want more, but you’ll never have it if you don’t take a chance and put yourself out there.”

  I know she’s right. I’ve been alone so long and grown so accustomed to it, I didn’t even realize I was lonely. His smooth voice has filled an empty place I didn’t know I had, and a small, aching part of me really wants to believe I could have more than his words.

  “I’ll think about it,” I reply in a near whisper.

  “Good, now let’s get out of here.”

  Her words run through my head all through the ride home and as I let myself in my apartment. I know it’s only a matter of time before he sees me anyway. I mean, he lives next door. It’s amazing we haven’t met face to face yet. Still, I want to delay the inevitable as long as possible.

  Tucker is gone and there’s a note on my kitchen counter telling me my toilet is fixed and thanking me for the food. The laundry room smells faintly of fabric softener, so he must’ve washed his clothes and bedding. I’m usually most comfortable when I’m alone, but tonight, my place seems hollow and empty.

  Dare’s apartment is quiet when I climb into bed, and I strain to hear whether he’s home. Disappointed at the silence I’m greeted with, I turn on my tablet and load one of my podcasts. I actually have a few new ones since I haven’t listened in a while. With Dare to chat with until I fall asleep, I haven’t needed the voices to chase away the dark thoughts and loneliness. It’s nearly three in the morning when my brain gives up the fight and I fall asleep.

  * * * *

  It’s a rainy day and I spend it catching up on work. I designed a book cover for an independent author last month and apparently she’s been raving about my work, because I have eight more requests waiting in my inbox. After finishing a few ads for a local candle store, I work on book covers until it’s late enough to go to the dance studio.

  Lights chase each other across the ceiling of the expansive studio when I flip a switch, illuminating the empty space, made larger by a mirrored wall. It makes me long for the classes I took when I was young, before we became so competitive, when it was just a bunch of girls having fun doing what we loved. Those days hold some of my best memories.

  The routine I’m working on now has turned out better than I hoped, and I can’t wait to show it to Sadie. Just as I finish and collapse to the floor to catch my breath, a voice makes me jump.

  “That was amazing.”

  Lisa approaches me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I came back because I forgot my phone.” She waves a purple phone. “How long have you been working on that?”

  “A month or so.” I shrug, not thrilled about being watched when I didn’t know it.

  “We have a competition coming up and that routine would be perfect for one of my students. Would you mind?”

  “Of course not,” I reply, thrilled someone will get to see my work even if I’m not the one performing it. “I’ve recorded it a few times to watch for my mistakes. You’re welcome to it.”

  Lisa follows me back to the dressing rooms. “I know you said you’re not interested in teaching, but hear me out. I have a twelve year old male student named Ryan, who is struggling. He recently came out to his classmates and it didn’t go well. They were already giving him shit for dancing, as you can imagine.”

  “Kids that age aren’t known for their compassion,” I agree.

  “Take Me to Church would be the perfect song for him to perform with. I’m sure he can relate and the passion he’ll bring will knock the judges out of their seats. I love what you’ve done with it and it’ll fit perfectly in the contemporary dance category.”

  I know what’s coming next.

  “But it would be much better if you could teach it to him, correct him where he needs it, instead of learning from a video.”

  Damn. “I really don’t think…”

  “He could come in on the slow hours, between our scheduled classes if that makes you more comfortable. I swear, he’s the sweetest kid.”

  Double Damn. How can I say no? “I’ll come in and meet him if you want, see if he wants me to teach him.”

  “Are you kidding? He’s going to love this routine! Thank you. I’ll call his dad tonight and see when he can bring him in.”

  “His dad brings him to class?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yeah, single dad. His mom ran off a few years ago.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “He’s got a fire in him, though. You’ll see.”

  She accompanies me out to the parking lot once I get dressed, and I give her my cell number. “I’ll let you know when he can be here,” she assures me, rushing off with a smile on her face.

  I regret agreeing before I even make it home. It’s not that I don’t want to work with the kid, but I dread returning to the dance world—even in such a limited way—after being out of it for so long. Chances are I won’t even see anyone I used to know. It’s been six years since I was attack
ed and though it made headlines, I doubt most people would remember, even with the effects clear on my face.

  It’s after midnight when I get home, and a light rain is starting to fall. The street light is out, so I almost miss the massive figure slumped on the steps leading to Dare’s place. Shit. It’s him. What the hell is he doing sitting in the cold rain? He doesn’t move, and part of me wants to keep going and hope he doesn’t notice me, until I hear him snore. He’s passed out. I can’t just leave him there.

  “Dare?” His eyes fly open and his hand wraps around my wrist when I shake him.

  It takes him a second to focus, then a goofy smile stretches across his face. He loosens his grip on my wrist, and I pull it back. “What are doing out here?”

  “Beautiful night,” he slurs, closing one eye as he looks up at me. Even rimmed with red, his eyes are gorgeous. Pale blue that appears silver in the glare of the streetlight.

  “It’s freezing, you idiot. You need to go inside.”

  Stumbling to his feet, he grins down at me. “S’go.”

  “Inside your own apartment. Alone,” I explain, trying not to laugh.

  His expression darkens and a fleeting sadness flashes in his eyes. Since he makes no effort to move, I grab his hand and pull. It’s laughable. The man is a damn mountain, there’s no way I can budge him. He seems to find it funny too, and chuckles as he throws an arm around me.

  “Come on. Come upstairs before you fall down them,” I sigh, leading the way. I need to get him in his apartment before he passes out again. With any luck, he’s drunk enough that he won’t remember this.

  Swaying on his feet, he leans his head against the apartment door and mumbles, “Keys are in my pocket.” His eyes are closed. Rather than argue with him, I slide my hand into his front pocket, but only find a wad of cash. I’m rewarded with a mischievous grin when I try his other pocket and pull out his keys.

  Hot breath smelling of whiskey flows across my neck and I feel his body pressed against my back as I unlock his door. “I knew you wanted to get in my pants.”

  God, he’s a solid wall of muscle. I can’t let him see he’s getting to me. “Shut up and get inside.”

  His living room looks like a typical bachelor pad with a long sectional couch, coffee table, and a huge T.V. I only get a glance as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and heads down the hall. He bumps his bedroom door open with his foot and flops onto the bed, taking me with him.

  Oh no. No, no, no. “Where you think you’re going?” he slurs, after I roll off the bed and get to my feet. “Stay with me.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “You’re sexy.”

  I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “You have no idea what you’re saying and I’m sure you’ll regret it tomorrow…if you even remember.” Please, don’t let him remember.

  “I finally got you in my bedroom. I’ll remember.”

  With no concern whatsoever, he shucks off his jeans and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. His eyes fall shut, and I take the opportunity to escape the bedroom in search of ibuprofen. He’s going to have one hell of a hangover when he wakes. His bathroom is bright and clean, painted the same pale yellow as mine. I’m standing in the bathroom of the most gorgeous man I‘ve ever held a conversation with, so I can’t help but have a look around. Fine. I’m snooping. Don’t judge me.

  His medicine cabinet holds the usual male items, aftershave, a razor, an extra toothbrush. A bottle of ibuprofen hides behind a stick of deodorant, and I spill a few pills into my hand before heading to the kitchen. There are bottles of water in his fridge, but not much else. He wasn’t kidding when he said he doesn’t cook.

  He’s in the same place I left him when I return, eyes closed, his body laid out like a starfish. Fuck, I’ve never seen so much muscle in one place. My eyes are drawn to his thighs first, lying like tree trunks on the dark sheets, and travel up over his boxer briefs, taking in the clear outline of a cock that definitely matches the rest of his thick body.

  A chuckle rattles his chest and he peeks at me with heavy eyelids. “Are you going to stand there eye-fucking me all night, or get in bed?”

  Shit. Busted. “Neither,” I reply, trying to act as if he didn’t just catch me drooling over him. “I brought you some water and painkillers.”

  When I bend to put them on his nightstand, he grabs my arm. His gaze meets mine for a long moment, and he slowly reaches to cup my face. His palm slides over the scars on my cheek, caressing them, and I close my eyes. No one has touched my face since the attack and I’m not sure how to react. Hoping I won’t be met with a disgusted expression, I open my eyes and see nothing but sympathy in his. “How did this happen?”

  My walls slam back into place as I realize what I’m doing. What he’s doing. “Go to sleep,” I tell him, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Good night, Ayda,” he murmurs, as I make my way towards the door.

  “Good night, Dare.”

  My mind is racing when I crawl into my bed. He didn’t cringe when he saw my face. Was it just because he’s drunk? I didn’t imagine the way he was looking at me and I have no doubt he was serious about wanting me in his bed, but what if he didn’t remember when he woke up? Trying to find a nice way to kick an ugly girl out of your bed makes for a particularly awkward morning after. Besides, even if I wasn’t scarred, this guy is way out of my league.

  The best thing I can do is pretend nothing happened and hope his brain was whiskey soaked enough to block out tonight.

  * * * *

  “Uhh.”

  My eyes open to the sound of a loud groan, and I can’t help but laugh. Dare is paying for that binge now.

  “Are you laughing at me?” His voice is low and full of gravel. My mind instantly jumps to the sight of him in his boxer briefs last night. I really don’t want him to remember.

  “Not everything is about you, you know.”

  “Thanks for getting me inside last night.”

  Damn it.

  “You really didn’t have to strip me. I feel so violated.”

  “Shut up. You know I didn’t touch you.”

  “It’s just a matter of time, babe.”

  If he only knew how badly I want to touch him. “Don’t you have a job to get to or something?” Actually, I have no idea what he does for a living. His hours are as erratic as mine.

  “Or something,” he agrees. “I’m bringing you dinner tonight.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Do you like Italian?” Now I seriously want to strangle him. Instead, I choose to ignore his last question and head to the shower.

  Today is Halloween, and I need to buy candy for the trick-or-treaters, so after getting cleaned up, I make a quick trip to a nearby Superstore. After tossing a few big bags of candy in my cart, I’m lured in by a display of chocolate cupcakes with tiny sprinkles that look like bats. The movie rental box at the front of the store features an array of horror movies, so my evening plans are decided. Cupcakes, chocolate, and gore.

  It’s barely dark outside when I get the first knock on the door. Sunny greets me with a smile and her little boy, Brody, holds up a plastic pumpkin. “Hi, Ayda. How have you been?” Sunny asks. I haven’t seen her or her son since the day we ran into each other at the pool.

  “I’m good. How about you?”

  “He keeps me busy.” She grins down at Brody, who’s wearing an Elmo costume. “What do you say, Brody?”

  “Candy!” he cries, holding up his pumpkin.

  “Trick or treat,” she corrects him.

  “Close enough,” I laugh, giving him a handful of candy.

  “We started a little early. He couldn’t wait.”

  After hesitating for a second, I ask, “Would you like to come in and have a cupcake?”

  “Sure.” Smiling, she grabs Brody’s hand and leads him inside. While he sits on the living room floor devouring a cupcake, Sunny and I chat and get to know each other. “He’s going to get that everywhere,
” she worries, glancing at her son, whose chin and nose is now coated in chocolate.

  “Don’t worry about it. I need to mop anyway.”

  “So, what do you do?” she asks.

  “I’m a graphic designer.”

  “Really? That’s awesome. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I work at The Children’s Museum.”

  Turning toward her on the couch, I laugh. “I used to love going there when I was a kid!”

  “It’s a pretty great place to work. They have a built in daycare, so it saves me a ton on babysitters.” She seems to sense the question I’m hesitant to ask. “His dad isn’t in the picture anymore. Didn’t want the responsibility.”

  “Oh, what an asshole.”

  We both burst into laughter. “Yeah, that’s a pretty good description,” she agrees.

  A knock at the door gets me to my feet, and I grab the bowl of candy, prepared for more trick or treaters, but instead I’m nearly bowled over by two tons of sexy man in a black suit. “Dare! What are you doing here?”

  “Bringing dinner. You don’t listen too well, do you?” His smirk turns into a smile when he sees Sunny gazing at him with her jaw hanging. I’ll bet that’s exactly how I looked the first time I saw him. He puts the bags he’s carrying on the kitchen table, then turns to stick out his hand to Sunny. “Hi, I’m Dare.”

  Her cheeks redden as she shakes his hand. A pang of pure irrational jealousy floods through me. Sunny is beautiful, with blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. She’s tall and curvy, everything I’d expect a man like Dare to look for in a woman, and I suddenly feel like a grungy loser.

  “Sunny,” she replies, before turning to me. “I live in the next building, apartment 3B. Come by sometime. I’m always stocked with junk food.” Her sincere smile draws the same from me. She’s really nice and funny. And I definitely need to make some friends.

  “I will.” I grab a paper towel for her to wipe Brody’s face. “Bye Brody. Hope you get a bunch of candy.”

  They make their way down the stairs, leaving me alone and face to face with Dare. “You didn’t have to bring dinner,” I tell him. “I mean, just because I unlocked your door for you last night doesn’t mean you need to do anything. It was no big deal.” Great. I’m babbling. I can hear the tremble of nerves in my voice, so I’m sure he can. I don’t want to lose what I have with him, as pitiful as that may be, so I figure the best thing to do is treat him like I would any friend, let him see I don’t expect anything more from him. That’s not exactly easy to do when he’s standing before me in a black suit I want to tear off him.