Page 2 of Daring You

“Glad you had fun. Get the fuck away from my car.”

“So mean.” Dodge covers his mouth in mock fear. “Shoulda used that on the field. Then maybe you wouldn’t have missed the last throw from the QB.”

Dodge McBarrow used to be on our team before he was kicked off for failing a drug test last year. Back then, he was messing around with weed, a layman’s drugs nowadays, but not if you’re an athlete. As he steps into the light, his cheeks are hollow, his dark skin marked with crusted-over sores.

“What happened to sticking to blunts, Dodge?”

“Bah.” He waves me off. “Those are for preteens looking to rebel against their mommies.”

I should shove him aside and get into my car. Every instinctual bone says to. “When did you start on the meth?”

“You my sponsor now?”

“No. But I’m concerned.”

“Funny you should say that, considering what you know I’m here for.”

Car. Now.

“Where you goin’, ‘Hue?”

“Home.”

“No you ain’t.”

“Buddy, you’re so high right now I’m shocked you know who you’re talking to. But since you do, you should also understand the serious ass-kicking you’re about to get if you don’t move.”

Dodge’s furtive movements work in his favor, because his twitches make him quick. He’s at my drivers’ side before I get there, blocking any entry.

I dump my duffel to the ground. “Last warning.”

“What happened to our deal, man?” Dodge crosses his arms, the flannel shirt he’s wearing dangling loosely like chicken wings.

Any patience I possessed because Dodge was a former teammate going through a rough time dissolves. “I’m not doing it, bro.”

His brown eyes skate from me, to the lamppost, to the parking lot, to the doors, where the rest of his former teammates remain.

“Deal’s off,” I say in a low tone.

Dodge’s brows jump, like I’m telling him something new. “There ain’t no deal, man. That’s not how this works. You’re lucky I didn’t hit you up for the cash you can’t afford instead.”

My chest tightens, but I cover it by folding my arms. He’s ditched his playful, innocent demeanor and grows snarky.

To assume Dodge is harmless is one’s greatest mistake, both as an opponent and friend. He collects information the same way he doles out weed, and makes money off both.

“You want to settle with me, that’s what you have to do,” he says.

“Why, Dodge?”

Dodge shrugs, playfulness creeping back in, before it disappears into cold calculation. “It’s what you and your buddies do, right? Make bets. Dole out fucked up dares to each other. Well, I want to be included. Is that so bad?” A bold smile crosses his lips. “You said you’d do anything.”

“I said we could work something out.” I try shoving him out of the way at quarter-strength.

“Don’t matter.” Dodge stays firm, despite my clear indication to fuck off. “It’s what I want you to do. What you have to do.”

He possesses the boldness to latch on to my shoulder and try to stop me. I hitch my step and whip to the side, growling in his face. He’s a small little fucker. My teeth could clip his nose. But he’s speedy on the field. A true asset of mine where it counted, if only he weren’t such a slimy limpdick in normal life.

“Easy, boy,” Dodge chuckles.

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