Page 29 of The Bully's Dare

“Maybe we might’ve judged Jason too harshly,” Kenzi says suddenly.

I open my eyes just enough to narrow them at her. “What?”

She shrugs. She’s twisting the joint between her fingers, examining the glowing cherry. “I’m just saying…maybe he’s not the complete dick we thought he was.”

“So he’s just a small dick. That’s what you’re saying?”

The edges of Kenzi’s mouth twist in a grimace. She looks away.

My throat, already smoke-swollen, fills with acid.

“Jesus Christ,” I say. “You fell for it. His charm.”

“I did not.” She looks at me now. Those sea glass green eyes look equal parts angered and hurt.

The mood is broken. There’s a tension in the toxic air between us.

“Why are you defending him?” I counter. “He hates people like us. We’re not worth licking the dirt on his shoes, according to him.”

“And what exactly is that? People like us?”

Her eyes are challenging me.

Like an idiot, I meet the challenge. “Losers.”

A shard of hurt slips across her eyes. “Is that what you think of me?”

I lift a hand, drop it. “That’s what they think of us. Jason and his crew.”

She pushes herself off the dryer and brushes off her dress. “That’s funny, because Jason never called me a loser. But you did.”

I jump off and follow her down the gravel pathway to the dock. “Kenzi, that’s not what I meant…”

She turns to me suddenly. “Is that why you couldn’t…?” But her question catches and her voice trails off.

My throat lumps. How do I tell her now that it’s not that I don’t want her…

The problem is wanting her too much? The type of longing that makes your soul ache.

My words go brittle and crack. “Kenzi…”

She shakes her head. “Just leave me alone for a minute. Please.”

Please. When she says please, I can’t do anything but obey.

My feet are trapped to the ground like they’re stuck in tar and I watch her walk down the dock and away from me.

I don’t see Kenzi for a couple days.

It feels like a lifetime.

I’m not sure if she’s still mad at me about the loser comment. I spend nearly a full twenty-four hours downloading music off of Limewire and burning it onto a CD. I put it in a case, climb onto her boat, and leave it trapped in the hatch window that leads to her room.

But the next day, the CD is still there. She hasn’t come back to the boat.

I’m trying not to let it consume me. But it’s a challenge. I find myself spending too much time staring off into the void blankly.

“Donovan.” I glance up from my notebook. I’ve been distractedly doodling the letter “K” in the corner.

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