Page 43 of Dare To Break

I roll my head sideways and force my eyes to open and find him. He’s lying on his bed, head propped up on one hand as he watches me.

“Filing that away for your spank bank?” I don’t care that he watched me jerk off. He knows my limits, and respects them. I’m not into guys, but I don’t mind an audience.

“You supply the best material.” He smirks and sits up. “Who was the star of your fantasy?”

I smile, but don’t answer. “I’m going to clean up.”

“Need a hand?”

I laugh. “I’m good, thanks.”

Chapter 27

Arabella

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m just checking in.” Elena’s voice warbles cheerfully from the voicemail she’s left on my phone. “I hope you’re eating properly. Have you made any friends? Are you getting on with Eli?”

My lips curl at his name. Hell will freeze over first.

“Anyway, drop me a call or a message when you get this. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

Lowering my phone from my ear, I can’t help but roll my eyes. Why is she trying to act like a real mother now? I had weeks of her never calling me over the years when she was out partying or off having sex with her men. Maybe Elliot was listening? The thought takes root, sounding the most plausible. I guess even with me stuck at boarding school, she’s trying to make a big show of being a caring mother.

I shoot her a text message as I walk across campus.

Me: Yes, I’m eating. My roommate is nice. I haven’t seen much of Eli. Schoolwork is keeping me pretty busy.

I press send, stuff my phone back into the pocket of my jeans and continue in the direction of the main building.

My attention strays toward the gymnasium, my mind spinning with unanswered questions. The panties I left on the door weren’t there Sunday morning. Nothing has been mentioned by students or security, which makes me wonder what happened to them.

Clutching the strap of the bag on my shoulder, I scrape my fingernails along the fake leather in an attempt to distract myself from the anxiousness making my muscles stiff.

Why hasn’t there been another dare? I did exactly what I was told.

I spent all of yesterday in the art room so I could lurk around my locker, waiting for another note. The anticipation became unbearable as the hours ticked by. Every time I went to check, my palms were sweaty with a combination of dread and excitement. Lunch passed in a blur. Miles brought me snacks from the vending machine when I told him I was working on a project and didn’t want to eat at the cafeteria. I didn’t see anyone else, and I was thankful for that after Saturday night. Miles told me they all had hangovers and spent the day laying low in their dorm rooms.

When a dare still hadn’t appeared right up to curfew, I went to bed with a strange feeling of deflation.

Maybe the game is over?

The thought increases my sense of gloom.

Had I really expected them to continue?

They’re just silly little pranks. But I can’t stop thinking about how the adrenaline had been a fun high.

“Good morning, Arabella.” Miles slings his arm around my shoulders. “Do you have any preference for a cute nickname?”

Startled, I almost miss a step. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “You looked like you were a million miles away.”

“Just distracted with schoolwork.”

He arches an eyebrow, his expression screaming that he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go. “So, nickname?”

“Just don’t call me Princess.”

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