Tyson shook his head with a grin. "Ah now, I know you're joking. You're way too competitive. You wouldn't let someone swoop in and steal your girl."
Dare's gaze narrowed. "I might."
I was still trying to recover when Tyson looked to me.
"And you'd be okay with Dare dating around?" he said.
I didn't want to respond. Everything in me rebelled against it, but I forced the words out.
"Yeah," I said, "Of course, I would. If that's what he wanted."
Dare's eyes were on me, but I refused to look at him.
"We're just"—I spoke past the lump in my throat—"having a good time."
Tyson crossed his arms, moving his gaze back to Dare. "So, you're telling me you'd let her go. Just like that."
A shrug. "I wouldn't stop her if that's what you're asking."
Translation: Dare wouldn't fight to keep me.
God, I was bleeding, and no one could even see it. But I could feel the wound he'd just inflicted as if he'd literally delivered a TKO. The sad part was I hadn't expected it. The left hook came out of nowhere, and I only had myself to blame. I'd been blinded by his pretty words and actions, lost sight of the fact that this was all pretend.
I wouldn’t let that happen again.
"Hey," I said suddenly, "I have to go. But great game, you guys."
Dare was still frowning. "Okay well, drive safely."
As if he cared, I thought.
But I didn't say anything.
With a nod, I walked as calmly as I could to my car, drove to a nice quiet place (aka my driveaway), and proceeded to cry under the cover of darkness. I didn't want to go in yet because Mom would definitely know something was wrong. The only bad part was—and maybe I was imaging things. I tended to do that after all—but because he'd been in Buttercup so often, his smell, that clean soap and evergreen scent, lingered here, too.
It made me cry even harder.
#
The next morning I got my own door before Dare could react. I was inside the car with the engine idling before he even got in. As he slid into his seat and closed his door, I started driving without saying a word. The skies chose that moment to open up, and I was grateful. It was the perfect excuse not to look at him.
"Bad morning?" Dare asked.
More like bad night, I thought. I hadn't slept well at all, the talk between Tyson and Dare playing on repeat in my head. Even practicing the cello and listening to music hadn't helped.
In answer, I shrugged.
"Okaaay," he said then drummed his fingers on his legs. "So flower, I wanted to—"
I reached over and turned on the radio. One of my favorite songs was playing, a cover of Chandelier by Vitamin String Quartet. A perfect match to my feelings about Dare. This rollercoaster we'd been on had felt like soaring and falling all at once. But after yesterday, I was done.
So done.
Dare looked at me a moment then said, "Did something happen? Are you mad about something?"
"No, I'm good," I said.
If he couldn't figure it out, I wasn't about to spell it out for him.
He muttered something under his breath, and I turned down the music.
"What was that?" I asked.
"I said, you left pretty fast the other night after the game," he said.
Yeah, not fast enough though.
"And today, you're not talking to me."
"What do you call what we're doing right now?"
Dare dropped both hands on his thighs with a slap. "I don't know, but I don't like it."
"Sorry," I said.
"Don't be sorry," he said. "Jeez flower, just tell me what's going on. I really have no idea why you're acting like this."
There was no way I could tell him the truth, that I'd been struggling with my feelings for him, that I'd finally admitted to myself that yes, I was falling for him—and if I was being honest, I'd already fallen a while ago.
"Does this have something to do with Coach?" he asked.
My eyes snapped to his but went right back to the road. It was pouring now and hard to see.
"What about my dad?" I said, squinting to make out the yellow center lines through the rain.
"I told you that we'd figure everything out. But I thought you might be worried which is why you're in a bad mood."
I nodded, grasping onto the excuse.
"Yep," I said. "That's it. You got me."
"Ah flower," he said. "Why didn't you just say so? I have an idea."
"You do?"
"Yeah"—Dare shrugged—"I was just about to tell you that before you turned on the music and started giving me the silent treatment."
I kept my eyes firmly ahead.
He sighed. "Ty told me he's throwing a party Saturday. I thought we could go together."
"How would that help convince my dad?" I said.
"I'll pick you up—or I guess, I'll jog over so you can take us." He laughed at himself. "Anyway, we could try phase five then."
I frowned. "You mean in my house? If my father caught us doing anything there, he'd flip. Do you want to die?"
"Hey, I'm not saying we have to go to your bedroom or anything," Dare said, and I swear my heart skipped a beat. "I like my head attached to my body, thanks."
"As long as you understand the risks…" I trailed off.
Part of me wanted to say: No, no, no, I don't want to do this anymore. Let's just call off this craziness. But another part still didn't want to give him up…even knowing he didn't feel the same.
Ugh, stupid, stupid heart.
I didn't look, but I
