I Dare You

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  She shrugs, her eyes hard as they stare right back at me.

  “I don’t like riddles, Muffin.” And I don’t like you.

  “No riddles here, just the fact that everyone loves you and you’re the best player ever…right?” With that she stands, marches back to Ryker’s room, and shuts the door.

  “Where are you off to? I thought you already had football practice,” Delaney asks as I load the dishwasher at her house. Ryker and I came over after class and she and Skye made lasagna for us. As a thank you, Ryker and I cleaned up the kitchen.

  She’s standing next to me, her gaze zeroed in.

  I shrug. “We’re going to hit the field house for some weight training.” Every word is a lie and feels like a bullet to my gut, but I can’t tell her the truth: I’m going to meet with Leslie at Carson’s tonight to work out the details of the next fight. He was the one who called me as we left Giardina’s.

  I want to confide in her, but if I get caught fighting, the less she knows, the better, and damn it’s hard to admit I’m a cheater who’s breaking rules.

  “I made cookies,” she tells me rather tartly. “Too bad you’re going to miss those.”

  Han is weaving in and out of her legs, and I reach down to give him a pet so I don’t have to look her in the eyes. I’m such an asshole. “Just save me some and I’ll get them tomorrow.”

  “Are you coming over later?”

  “No, I have a test tomorrow.” I stand and brush my lips across hers. “Thank you for the meal. It was amazing as always.”

  Feeling the weight of her eyes on me as I move to grab my gym bag, more guilt settles over me. Besides Raven, she’s the most important person in my life, and I’m not giving her what she deserves.

  After thanking the girls for dinner, Ryker follows me as I make my way out the front door.

  He starts in on me as soon as we get in the truck. Earlier I told him about Leslie calling me, and he’s been fuming all afternoon.

  “You can’t do another fight. I won’t let you,” he mutters as I start the truck.

  I exhale. “Just one more and I’m set to pay for Pineview for an entire year. If I get one more fight in now—before football starts this fall—then I won’t have to do it again.” I flick a quick glance over to him as he stares out the window, clearly annoyed with me. “Look, think about Raven—this is for her. My dad is shit, man. He can’t take care of her, and I’m barely managing everything I have with school and football. Plus, I’ve already paid the facility the deposit. Raven moves in May 1st.”

  Knowing she will be happy and safe…that makes it all worthwhile.

  “Unless you get caught,” he mumbles, raking a hand through his hair. “Then you’ll never play pro ball.”

  “Nothing’s been said about the last fight, and no one will find out about this one.”

  “Secrets never stay secrets, Mav. Someday it’s going to come back on you.”

  “Have you told anyone?” My head recalls Martha-Muffin in our dorm room and how oddly she acted.

  “No, of course not.” His words are clipped.

  My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

  He exhales loudly. “Have you told Delaney what you’re doing for cash? Because she isn’t going to be cool with it.”

  “Stay out of me and Delaney.”

  “See, you know I’m right. You haven’t been honest with her—with anyone, not even Raven.”

  My teeth clench. “What’s your point?”

  He waves his hands around. “Raven has a traumatic brain injury, and you’re out there getting beat up. Last time you nearly fractured a rib.”

  I shrug. “It’s the same as being on the field.”

  “On the field, you have a helmet and pads.”

  I shake my head. “I could break my neck on the football field and never walk again. I could die in a car wreck like my mom. I could be walking across the street and get hit by a car. I can’t live my life by what-ifs. All I know is what I have to do right now, and that’s take care of my little sister. No one else is going to do it—not my dad, not the state, me.”

  We’re both quiet for a moment.

  “You don’t know what it was like growing up like I did,” I add. “I got a job when I was thirteen, mowing the football field at school. When I was sixteen, outside of football, I helped my dad clean Carson’s Gym. I’ve worked my entire life and now I have the chance to really provide for Raven.”

  He looks out the window.

  “Dude, let it go,” I say. “Be my friend.”

  He shrugs. “I just…have a bad feeling.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’ve been hanging out with Muffin.”

  He juts out his jaw. “So?”

  I sigh. “All I’m saying is be careful. Just a few weeks ago, she was hot and heavy after Alex.”

  He scratches at his scruff. “We’re keeping it casual.”

  “Good.”

  We enter the gym and take in the surroundings. It’s seven at night but the place is busy. Off to the left are the locker rooms, and I head there to wrap my hands, change into shorts, and put on some flat, high-topped boxing shoes, ones Leslie provided for me after the last fight. I figure I may as well get some sparring in while I’m here.

  Ryker goes over to the weights to do some lifting.

  I come out of the locker room and see Leslie has entered the building and is in the main office talking to Carson, the owner. Dressed in a suit that looks out of place in the smelly gym, he gives me a wave through the glass walls.

  I nod and head that way, and as soon as I enter the room, Leslie motions for Carson to leave us, which I can appreciate. I’m sure Carson knows what’s going on, and I don’t doubt he’s got his fingers all up in this, but I’d rather speak with Leslie alone.

  Leslie motions for me to take a seat, but I decline. I don’t like him. He’s a slimy guy who’s taking advantage of the fact that I need money. It makes me wonder about the other players and their reasons for fighting for him. No football player with a good record would do this just for the money; it’s too dangerous.

  “I’ll stand, thanks.” I cross my arms. I want him to know he doesn’t own me. “You said you had some news about the fight,” I say.

  He studies me with a smile that’s overcrowded with small teeth in an otherwise large mouth. “Yes. Same terms as before. Your opponent has knocked out everyone before the second round. You up for it?” His beady eyes rake over me, an arch to his brow as he takes in the additional muscle I’ve managed to build up in the past couple of weeks. I’ve also healed up completely and feel like I’m at the top of my game.

  “Who is it?” A whole list of names runs through my head, mostly SEC powerhouses since those are the ones I know the best.

  “He’s an Alabama boy, and the fans are chomping at the bit to get to you. It’s all everyone is talking about.”

  Everyone being his little circle of rabid rich fans.

  My lips flatten. Alabama is the best in the country—this year. They defeated us in a tight Rose Bowl game last year, knocking us out of the national championship.

  A muscle flexes in my jaw, and I give him a sharp nod. “Done. Just tell me when.”

  “I’ll make the final arrangements and call you.” He puts out his hand for me to shake. There’s an ostentatious ring on nearly every finger, but I grit my teeth and take it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement outside the office, and I turn to see Muffin watching us, a petulant look on her face.

  I narrow my eyes at her and she flips around then hurries toward the door, but not before I see that she had her phone out.

  Did Ryker tell her we were coming here? That doesn’t make sense, not when I’m meeting Leslie here.

  Brushing past him, I exit the office, my eyes scanning the gym for Ryker, who I find in the back on a butterfly machine.

  Everything seems okay, but I know something isn’t right. I follow
Muffin as she heads to the foyer, her bag slung over her shoulder.

  I call her name, but she tears out the front door, a purposeful stride in her walk.

  Following behind her, I exit the building and see her half-running to her little Mercedes convertible.

  Jogging, I catch her before she gets it unlocked.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you worked out here.” It’s not unusual for students to come, especially since the Waylon facility doesn’t offer the same variety of classes, but I’ve never seen her here. “What’s up?” I say.

  “Yeah, well, I signed up for a CrossFit class here. The only time available is super late.” She’s fumbling around in her purse for her keys. “I thought it would be great since Ryker is here a lot.”

  My stomach falls. He must have mentioned that he comes here. Dammit. I don’t need Muffin sniffing around and seeing me spar in the ring. I mean, it doesn’t look bad to box, but still…I want to cover my tracks.

  “Oh, did you see him? He was on the butterfly machine.”

  She blinks. “Uh, no…but I saw you in Carson’s office.”

  My eyes narrow. “Is that right? Huh.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” she says curtly, giving me a sneer.

  “You seem a little off, Muffin. You okay?”

  With an aggravated sigh, she glares up at me. “Why so many questions, Maverick?”

  I sneak a look at the phone she still has clutched to her side and nod my head at it. “Did you take a picture of me?”

  She blinks. “What if I did? Is that a problem? Do you have something to hide?”

  A scowl pulls my brow down. “No.”

  She laughs. “I did actually, of you and the fat guy in the suit. Those glass walls are amazing—I could see everything.”

  I stiffen. “Don’t meddle in my life, Muffin. Stick to Ryker.” My voice is hard and flat.

  She bristles and opens her car door, giving me a cunning look as she slides inside. “Are you threatening me?”

  I take a step back, holding my hands up. “No. I’m just asking why you took a picture of me with a man you don’t know.”

  She arches her brow. “There are ways to find out who he is. Ever hear of reverse image search on Google? Besides, I asked Carson and he told me his name was Leslie Brock. Guess who I’m going to look up when I get home?”

  I’m baffled by why she would even care.

  Anxiety eats at me, imagining her blabbing around campus about who Leslie is. I know exactly what she’ll find out if she tries hard enough: he owns casinos.

  “Don’t start something you don’t know anything about,” I say tightly.

  An insinuating expression flits over her face. “Just a heads up, Ryker leaves his phone out constantly. I just happened to take pictures of some messages you’ve sent him that came across his lock screen—texts about fighting in Tunica and a man named Leslie, and then lo and behold, I ask Carson who you’re with and he says Leslie. Not smart to meet your bookie so close to home.”

  Fuck. I can’t breathe.

  I bark out a laugh. “He isn’t my bookie.”

  She’s off base, but dangerously close…

  “Yeah, right. You’ve been gambling.”

  “It’s not what you think it is,” I say. “I’ve never gambled.” There’s so much more I want to say to her—I want to fucking go off on her—but I’m terrified.

  “Whatever. You’ll say anything to protect yourself.” She’s managed to get in her car now. “I’ll see you,” she says as she slams her door and cranks her engine.

  I stand back as she jerks out of her parking spot and squeals off.

  Everything feels wrong.

  I scrub my face and head back into the gym. I have to find Ryker and figure out what the hell is going on.

  Delaney

  It’s the Thursday night before spring break and the library is a dead zone, except for the diehards who aren’t leaving early for a quick trip to somewhere.

  It’s seven o’clock, so I have two more hours before I can hightail it out of here and head to my house, where I’m supposed to meet Maverick.

  Voices drift in from the front, and I look up from the circulation desk I’m manning, expecting to see my co-worker who’s been working on the main floor downstairs, but it’s Martha-Muffin and one of her sorority friends.

  She sees me and changes her trajectory, making her way over to the desk. She practically flounces in a pair of white cutoffs and a lace top that barely covers her boobs.

  I exhale. “Mensa meeting for two tonight? Please don’t let me interrupt. Choose a table, any table.” As long as it’s far, far away from me.

  “You think you’re so smart.” She shakes her head. “It all might just fall down around you.”

  I arch my brows. “Okaaaay. Am I supposed to be scared?”

  “You would be if you knew what I knew,” she says, twisting her lips.

  I sigh, not in the mood for her antics. I just want to get out of here and see Maverick. “Unless you’re here to check out a book—which I highly doubt is the case—or need help finding a book—which I also highly doubt—then I’ll leave you to your ridiculously vague comments and go do something productive with my time.”

  I skirt around the edge of the counter, my goal to get as far from the toxicity as I can, then I hear her voice calling behind me in a singsong tone. “I know something you don’t.”

  I push my glasses up and turn around. “I already know you slept with my ex. Over and done. I’ve moved on.”

  She laughs, but it isn’t a pleasant sound, and by now the group of guys back in the corner openly stare at us.

  “This is about Maverick.”

  She’s toying with me, I tell myself, but part of me—the insecure side of me—wants to know exactly what she means. My old anxieties tug at me, reminding me that Alex cheated and saying maybe Maverick has too.

  “Fuck off, Martha.”

  She rears back in surprise. “Well, you do have claws. I was beginning to wonder.”

  I flip back around and head down an aisle.

  Her parting shot follows me. “Just ask him why he’s been training at Carson’s Gym so much. Ask him who Leslie is.”

  Leslie? Is she someone he’s seeing at the gym? He’s been telling me he goes to the field house to work out…

  But I did see him at Carson’s all those weeks ago when Han was lost.

  I take the stairs two at a time, her comments niggling at me, digging under my skin. I try to pack them away and store them in a back corner of my mind, but when my phone pings with a text from Maverick and I read it, the uncertainty yanks at me even more.

  Rain check on tonight? We’ve got a big scrimmage coming up and I need the rest.

  Fine, I say.

  You okay?

  I type Yes, but then delete it.

  I’m not okay, not at all, and I need time to think. I don’t respond, instead just tuck the phone back in my pocket.

  Delaney

  The next day, Ryker opens the door, this time with some clothes on. It makes sense since it’s the afternoon and after classes, but in a dorm with athletes, you never know. I’m here to pump him for information, and I’m not above using food to get what I want.

  “Mav isn’t here. Already left for the gym.”

  I let out a sigh. “Is he at Carson’s with Leslie?”

  Ryker pales—just a hair—and I know I’m on the right track. “He might be at Carson’s, but I don’t know a Leslie.”

  My heart drops at his obvious lie, but I shrug, playing it cool. “I know he’s not here. He texted me this morning and said he had things to do today.” He’s been too busy for me for the past several days, and my nerves are stretched thin. It feels like whatever we had is slowly slipping away and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  He nods. “So why are you here?”

  I pull a full pecan pie out of my handy little Tupperware carrier. “I made pie, and I do recall you mentioning once that pecan is your f
avorite. Just thought I’d drop it off.”

  “Man, you’re the best.” He opens the door wider and I step inside, heading to the kitchenette. “It’s been a shit day and I really need this.”

  “Oh? What’s wrong?” Normally he always wears a smile, but now that I’m noticing, there are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is everywhere, as if he’s been rubbing it.

  His lips tighten. “Just girl problems.” Muffin problems, no doubt, but I hold on to that thought and wait.

  “Let me cut you a piece,” I say as I pull open a drawer to find a pie cutter. Alas, these guys are primitive, so I settle for a butter knife. I slice into the flakey golden crust, tossing a look at him over my shoulder.

  “Sure.” His eyes are focused on the dish, and I smile at his interest.

  “By the way, this was my Nana’s recipe, and it’s been handed down in my family for generations. It won a blue ribbon at a fair in North Carolina.”

  He walks in closer. “Awesome, but why are you bringing me pie? Shouldn’t it be for Mav?”

  “Just thought we could chat. Want me to make us some coffee to go with this? Or some iced tea?”

  “I think my mom left some Lipton packets here the last time she dropped off groceries, and there’s sugar in the pantry. I don’t have an iced tea maker though. We can use a pan?”

  “Sure.” I nod and he helps make the tea, immediately turning on the stovetop. There’s a bit of pep in his step, probably excitement about the pie. He fills the pan with water and I drop in the bags as he digs out a pitcher. I mean, I don’t really want tea, but I’m nervous and need something to keep my hands busy because I feel guilty about pumping Maverick’s friend for information. I exhale. I’m desperate, and I just want Ryker to reassure me that everything’s okay.

  “Let’s talk while the tea brews, yes?”

  “Sure.” He shrugs.

  I set the pie in the center of the table and cut it into six large slices, the sterling silver of the knife slicing into the crystallized pecans and down farther into the dark gooey confection.