Page 34 of The Bully's Dare

True to his word, he doesn’t give up.

I’m rocking out to The Pixies (a new obsession, thanks to Donovan) and working on my tan lines at the pool when an enormous shadow sucks the warmth out of the sky.

I open my eyes, pull down my headphones, and frown. “You’re blocking everything.”

Jason, the 6-foot-fuck-giant, looms overhead. He’s at least wearing regular clothes this time—a loose t-shirt and joggers. He leans over and braces himself on my chair, his hands on my armrests. My eyes catch on the dark hair that runs up his forearms. I want to lick my lips, but I resist the urge.

“Alright, Trouble,” he says, those sky-blue eyes locked on mine. “You and me need to have a conversation.”

“About?” I ask innocently.

“What’s it going to take to get you to go out with me?”

I tut. “Giving up already. Such a disappoint.”

“No,” he says. “Not giving up. Just giving you a chance to say yes before this gets ugly.”

I snort on a laugh. “Give it your worst.”

He straightens up. “Alright. You asked for it.”

Then his eyes catch on Donovan and—oh no.

Donovan is at the lip of the pool, cleaning out the drain. He’s got his back to us and he doesn’t see Jason approach.

“Jason, don’t!” I tell him, but it’s too late.

Jason grabs Donovan by the front of his shirt. He pulls him up so Donovan is on his feet and then shoves him outward. Donovan’s heels are hanging off the lip of the pool and he grabs Jason’s wrist, his shoes struggling to regain traction. One shove, and Donovan will hit the water. Uniform and all.

“Stop!” I shout.

Donovan twists and struggles, but Jason is strong, his grip tight, and he’s not letting up. “Come out with me,” Jason bargains, “and I’ll let him go.”

“Are you twelve?”

“Asshole,” Donovan sputters as he struggles to get free.

We’re not alone in this pool—there’s at least three other boat owners here, plus the lifeguard. All adults. All pretending like they don’t see what’s going on.

No one does a damn thing. Not when it’s Jason King.

No wonder he thinks he owns this island, and everyone in it. They let him get away with it.

My teeth grind together.

“Okay!” I throw up my hands. “Whatever! Just…stop.”

Jason finally pulls Donovan back from the edge of the pool and releases his grip.

Donovan’s face is red. He scuttles quickly out of Jason’s reach and says nothing.

I can practically see him retreating into his head.

He’s embarrassed, defeated, and I hate Jason King for it.

It doesn’t matter if he has the shoulders of a linebacker and the golden tan of a Greek God.

I hate Jason King.

---