Page 114 of Dare To Live

Has he been sleeping?

My mind swims with concern for him, pushing aside all my worries.

His eyes skim over my face, and it takes me a second to realize he’s waiting for me to reply.

Is this a new game or a distraction from being in the worst place possible?

“Hi,” My lips quirk. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Arabella, Arabella Gray.”

A faint smile appears on his lips. “I know we’ve only just met, but I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

“In the cafeteria?”

Eli releases my hand. “I would offer to take you further, but as we’re both stuck here on campus, it’s the best I can do.”

I lift an eyebrow in amusement. “What are you doing?”

“Asking you out to dinner.”

“You know what I mean.”

He cocks his head. “I want to get to know you.”

A nervous laugh trickles from my lips. “You already know me.”

“No, I don’t. Not the way I should.” His gaze sharpens. “Wait. Is that my hoodie?”

“What?” I glance down at myself. Oh crap.

His fingers tug at the front of it. “It is! The one you ruined in art class.”

“I got the paint out.” My tone is defensive. “I thought we were supposed to have just met. So that technically makes it mine and not yours.”

“You had it all this time?”

“I … I took it with me when we left the school.”

He stares at me. “Why?”

Instead of answering his question, I pout. “Does this mean you want it back?”

Eli studies me for a long moment. “Yes, or no?”

I blink. “What?”

“Dinner.”

“Eli—”

He sighs, and I can hear bone-jarring tiredness in the sound. He steps away. “Forget it, then.”

“No! Wait,” I grab his arm as he passes me, fingers digging into the material of his long-sleeved top. “Yes, Eli Travers, I would love to have dinner with you.”

He reaches for my hand, untangles my grip, and threads his fingers through mine. Without another word, he walks away from the dorm building, taking me with him. I glance down at our joined hands. It feels solid and safe … right.

Is it weird that holding hands feels like the most natural thing in the world? I never got to fall out of love with him. In the end, I just had to move on when I’d walked away, and I hadn’t even been able to do that properly.

The cafeteria is busy when we enter, and the people at the tables grow quiet, their gazes turning our way. I ignore their stares and keep all my focus on the man whose grip on my hand has tightened until it hurts. I squeeze back and hope it’s enough to give him the reassurance he seems to need.

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