Page 5 of The Bully's Dare

“I’d treat the homeless patient first,” I recite immediately. “The temperature of his skin suggests heat stroke, which can be life threatening for someone in his condition.”

“Seems you have a guardian angel, Jason,” Dr. Esmerelda says. “Adam just resurrected your patient. Let’s spend less time hitting the beach this summer and more time hitting the books.”

I can feel Jason’s stare, like ice chips sliding down my spine.

I ignore it and press my pen deep into the paper, making a welt in my journal. I’m going to pay for opening my big dumb mouth later, but.

At least my hypothetical patient lived.

I make a beeline to my locker after class. Jason and his crew are loitering. Jason is sitting on the counter with his shoes pressed on the table.

Respect is for lesser humans, apparently.

He looks at me and there’s a glint in his eyes I don’t like.

“Sup, Angel?” he asks.

Angel. Jesus Christ. I guess I have Dr. Esmerelda to thank for my new nickname now.

I ignore him and go to my locker.

“Hey,” Brett chimes in, “King is talking to you.”

My jaw clenches. Let’s rip this band-aid. “What?”

“What’re you doing tonight? You wanna come out?”

“Out?” I repeat skeptically.

“Yeah. We’re having a party tonight.”

Is Jason…inviting me to a party? Seems unlikely. I glance at him and then wish I hadn’t. His impossibly tall frame is arched over, one leg crooked on a chair. He’s panther-like and coy in his body language; his knees slightly splayed, his broad shoulders angled back. His tight pants do nothing to hide the package underneath, and I hate myself for noticing these details about him.

His body language always makes him looking like he’s flirting…even when he isn’t.

He’s got a wolf’s grin, though. It makes me suspicious.

“Good for you,” I say.

“So you coming?”

I consider my options. I should say no. On the other hand. If this is a genuine invitation, a party might be fun, when was the last time I was invited to something like that—?

Never. The answer is never.

“Maybe,” I say as I open my locker, “I’ll have to check with—”

But as soon as the door swings open, two wet bodies fly out at me. Huge, slippery bass flip out of my locker and slap against my chest. The smell that my locker unleashes is atrocious.

Jason and his crew cackles. I feel Jason’s hand slap on my shoulder. “You know what?” he says, “Maybe next time. Think you should go home and…shower this off.” He steps backwards out the door. Before he leaves, he has the audacity to wink. “Later, Angel.”

The dead fish leak onto the ground. So much for sterilization.

Fucking dick.

Every muscle in my body hurts as I bike back to the marina.

Sunsets are beautiful at Hannsett Island. Pink and lavender streaks across the sky and spills across the water. The boats sway softly, each tucked away safely in their slip. We have a pair of swans that nest in the tallgrass every year and they make small ripples in the glass-like water. Every now and then, a gull calls out or a mainline bangs against the mast, giving out a gong-like sound. Other than that, it’s still. Quiet.

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