Page 27 of Truth Or Dare
Leila walks back inside, freezing when she sees Tiffany walk past her. “Did I miss something?” she asks, her brow furrowing.
Aiden walks toward her, grabs her by the waist, and lifts her up, which makes Leila yelp, before he carries her out in his arms.
“What the hell was that about?” Grayson asks, gesturing to the door where our friends just left.
I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
I relax as Chris cups my face with his hands, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay? That girl was—”
“Evil,” I finish simply, my voice tinged with bitterness from years of dealing with Tiffany.
His brows furrow, worry evident in his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Did she call you a—”
He pauses, unable to bring himself to even say the word. He’s so pure, and good, andI love him.
“Yeah,” I confirm, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach after Tiffany’s outburst in front of him. Chris knows I’m not a saint, and he’s never judged me for it, but it still stings to hear that kind of insult when he’s here. “Are you okay?”
His brows shoot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “I was kind of shocked by how forward she was,” he admits. “But yeah, still good, Gabi.”
I nod, meeting his gaze. “And you didn’t want to give her your number?”
“Are you kidding?” he responds with a slight frown. “She was awful.”
I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, she was,” I agree. “But, you didn’t think she was pretty?”
A small smile plays on his lips as he rubs his thumb over his cheek. “I thought you’d already know,” he says, arching a brow. “She’s not my type.”
My heart skips a beat, Chris’ words from so long ago echoing in my mind.
Chapter 9
She's not my type
Age Sixteen
It’s fucking freezing, and I’m desperately in need of a drink. Whose brilliant idea was it to hang out at the beach in September, anyway? This bonfire isn’t keeping me warm at all. My skin shivers as I lift my head, scanning the beach for a head of dark curls. I squint, struggling to see in the darkness, and let out a harsh breath when I don’t see him.
Where the hell is he?
I pull out my phone to check the time, flinching when I feel a hand wrap around my leg. As soon as I turn, I break out into a smile when I see Chris looking down at me. His fingers start to move slowly across my bare skin, just above my knee, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I keep my eyes on his fingers, trying to figure what he’s spelling out.
You ok?
I nod, smiling up at him. “I am now that you’re here,” I say, loving how his smile widens at my response.
“Are you sure?” he asks with a smirk. “You’re shivering.”
“Just a little cold,” I admit. Kinda wish I’d thought to bring a sweatshirt or something.
His eyes travel down to my bare legs, and he shakes his head in mild exasperation. “You’re wearing shorts,” he points out, arching an eyebrow. “Of course you’re cold. You need more layers.”
I roll my eyes playfully, reaching over to snatch the navy baseball blue cap off his head and place it on mine. “There. Layers,” I say with a smirk. “I’m keeping this, by the way.”
He lets out a chuckle. “Fine by me.”
“Where were you?” I ask him. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”
“Debating whether or not to come,” he replies with a sigh, brushing his hair back. “Almost stayed home.”
