Page 92 of The Dare

“You’re right.”

“But I believe in partial credit.” She approaches me, slow, tentative.

She’s a fucking vision in that curve-hugging dress, her sultry makeup, blonde hair perfectly done. It breaks my heart she went through so much trouble for tonight, and I robbed her of possibilities.

“You made a dozen wrong choices to get here. But you eventually made the right one. That counts for something.”

“So where does that leave me?” I ask, growing more nervous for the answer.

“I’d say a solid C minus.”

“So…” A hopeful smirk pulls at my mouth, and I smother that shit real quick. “Still passing?”

Taylor holds up her thumb and index finger to show me the thin slice of light between them.

“I’ll take it.”

She finally reaches me, sliding her hands down the satin lapels of my tuxedo jacket. “You seemed a little jealous back there at the gala.”

“I will break that dude’s hand if he touched you,” I tell her with no hesitation.

“We were broken up,” she reminds me. Every time those words leave her lips, it cuts a little deeper.

“I’m a dickhead,” I admit. “But he’s suicidal if he thought he’d try to hit that.”

She cracks a smile, which melts the tension that’s been coiled in my shoulders for days. If I can still make her laugh, maybe there’s hope for us yet.

Pensive, she tips her head slightly. “It was kind of hot.”

“Was it?” This is sounding less like a rejection.

“Oh, for sure. I’m not one of those super-mature people who thinks jealousy is a character flaw. I fucking eat that shit up.”

My grin springs free. “I’ll remember that.”

“Yeah, you know, Abigail’s boyfriend is constantly drooling over my tits, so if later you want to do donuts on his frat’s lawn, I’m all about that petty life.”

“Fuck, I love you.” This girl makes me laugh like no one else, even when things are heavy. And especially when they’re awkward. She finds the joy in the deepest suck.

“About that,” she starts, toying with the buttons on my shirt. Hesitation creases her forehead for a moment.

“I mean it. With all my heart. I wouldn’t fuck with someone like that.”

“You love me.”

I can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement, but I treat it like the former. “I love you, T. I don’t even know when I figured it out. Maybe when I pulled the car over, or on the drive back. Or when my fingers were shaking so much I could barely tie this stupid bow tie. All I could think about was getting to you and how every minute you were out there thinking I didn’t give a shit was fucking killing me. I just knew.”

She peers up at me under thick sooty lashes. “Show me.”

“I will. If you give me the chance to—”

“No.” Her fingers splay across my chest, push my jacket off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “Show me.”

I need no more encouragement than her teeth pulling at her bottom lip.

Lifting her into my arms, I bring my mouth to hers and kiss her. We may have faltered as a couple, but this part still feels right. When we kiss, I can make sense of things. With her in my arms, I can see the way ahead for what we could become.

Taylor locks her legs around my waist as I walk us to her bedroom and sit on the end of her bed. She settles in my lap, her delicate fingers tangled in my hair. Her nails gently scratch at the back of my neck and set every nerve on fire.

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