Page 11 of The Bully's Dare

I roll my eyes and pick a bread stick off the table. I chew it the way Bugs Bunny might nibble his carrot in front of Elmer—you’re not the boss of me. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of the table,” I tell him.

“Okay.” His eyes are sparkling. There’s that mischief again. He comes out with it: “You’re the one who cast off my boat.”

He doesn’t look pissed. If anything, he looks…amused? There’s that smug smirk climbing his lips.

I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Wanna come to a bonfire tonight?”

“Oh, a bonfire, honey, that sounds like fun!” Pearl says too-enthusiastically.

“Pearl,” I chastise her. She’s completely ruining my cool.

Pearl sighs loudly. “Excuse me for wanting you to have some teenage escapades while you’re still young.”

Jason eyes me. “I’ll drive.”

I pretend to consider it. “Can I bring my friend?”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Donovan.”

A sliver of something cruel slides across Jason’s blue eyes. “I don’t think he’d like the crowd.”

“By that, you mean you don’t think the crowd would like him?”

His mouth sets. “Whichever.”

I shrug. “Then it doesn’t sound like my crowd, either.”

I scoop a forkful of crème brulee while Jason considers. “Okay,” he says finally. “He can come.”

“Cool. You can pick me up later.”

Jason’s smile returns. Calm. Controlled. Cocky. “See you then.” Then he nods towards Four and Pearl. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

With that, he turns and leaves to join his own family again. They have, obviously, the best table in the house, with a perfect view of the boats swaying in the marina.

Pearl puts her lips to her wine glass. “He’s cute,” she says into her pinot noir and wiggles her eyebrows.

“If you’re into…that.” I shrug and try not to blush.

“What did he mean about his boat?” Four asks, his brow furrowed.

“Hey!” I jump in with a quick change of topic: “I was thinking—can you teach me how to fish tomorrow?”

5

Donovan

“Kiddo.”

My eyes pry themselves open. As the sleep clears, The Sundance Kid races across the screen, shouting for his partner in crime.

Our TV is a small, square box, which is propped up on the fold out table in front of us, along with a few empty beers and scraps from dinner.

I’ve passed out in the crook of my dad’s arm. And drooled on myself.

---