Page 21 of The Bully's Dare

Four steers us through the water and to The Healing Touch. The boat has its own underneath boat lights, and they make the water look emerald green in their spotlights.

“Ahoy there!” Four says, like the nerd he is.

“Terry,” Mr. King smiles. “Glad to have you. I’ll toss you a line.”

We tie up to their boat. Mr. King extends a hand and helps us all on board, one by one.

It’s funny—it doesn’t feel like the same boat with the rest of the King family here. I’m used to seeing this as the party boat. Now, I see it as it’s supposed to be. The wings of the center console have fanned out into a long table. There’s soft jazz music playing, not the normal rancorous pop tunes. The table is set, a bottle of wine in the middle, flanked with salad, bread, and steak and potatoes.

It’s amazing how The Healing Touch cleans up when it’s not covered in wine coolers and slutty teenagers.

Pearl and Mrs. King get along like gangbusters. They’re both gold diggers, wear the same brand of jewelry, and ascribe to the same skincare routine. It stands to reason. The grill is attached to the back of the boat, and Mr. King and Four hover over it, talking about…meat and fishing, I guess. Guy stuff.

Jason’s brother, Ian, is at the bow of the boat. Every now and then, a gust blows the smell of clove cigarettes our way.

Jason himself is dressed in a nice white button up. Tan slacks. We sit side-by-side and his arm hair tickles my skin.

“Should I keep an eye on you?” he asks.

“Why?”

“Every time you’re around, bad things happen to me.”

“Then, yes. You should definitely keep an eye on me.”

His dad announces that dinner is ready, which is good. It’s bad for me to have Jason King this close, smelling like patchouli and salt water. It gives me a bad urge to lick him from his collar bone, up his Adam’s apple, to his plump bottom lip.

God, I need to lose my virginity. Like, now. This repression is no good for anyone.

I take it out on my steak. I cut into it like Jack the Ripper. It’s cooked perfectly—just a little on the rare side. I try to focus on the meat on my plate, instead of the man meat sitting beside me.

Jason is different around his family, though. Like the boat, he’s cleaned up. Hair slicked back. Eyes bright and alert. I’ve known him as the party animal, but here, under his dad’s eye, the boy might as well have a halo over his head. He’s that much of a good boy.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you around lately, Jason,” Four says as he cuts into his steak.

Realizing I’ve tuned out, I tune back in.

“He’s grounded,” says Ian—which is the first time I’ve heard him speak all night. He has a particularly joyful glint in his eyes when he says it, and I get the impression it’s a rarity even in the confines of his own house for Jason King to suffer the consequences of his actions, and Ian is gloating about it.

“There was an incident at the marina,” Mr. King expounds. “Jason, why don’t you tell us about it?”

“He got the boat stuck on a sandbank,” Ian snickers.

Mr. King glances sideways at Ian. “Is your name Jason?”

Ian drops his eyes. “No, sir.”

I freeze mid-chew, the meat half masticated in my mouth. My eyes lock on Jason, waiting for the sharp sting of just revenge. Four and Pearl know nothing about the prank Donovan and I played and, I guess, it’s due time I got drawn and quartered for it on the dinner table.

Jason’s blue eyes sweep to me—a parting got ya? But then he does something strange.

He shrugs and turns back to his plate. “I tried to take it out at night. My bad.”

Is he…taking the blame?

I’m shocked. I didn’t think Jason King had a martyr bone in his body, but here he is. Taking the rap and doing time—in his dad’s mansion, but still—for my crime.

Why would he let us off the hook like that?

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