Page 61 of The Dare

Natasha

Everything happens so quickly, I barely have time to process it.

It’s like the past twenty-four hours have been played on fast forward, and Michael’s handling of these jocks is no different.

He doesn’t know my past, doesn’t know just how terrifying it is for me to see a group of them like this.

The taunts and catcalls are all coming back to me.

The horrible names, the sick and twisted practical jokes that border on assault.

I look around, wishing there were more people I could call on to help. Wishing we’d stayed in the house.

My fear holds me to the spot, but not for long. As soon as I see some of those jocks moving towards Michael, I run forward, yelling at them to stop.

I’m not yelling out because I’m worried about Michael either. I’m more worried about what a man his size is capable of when he’s truly pissed off.

But it’s too late.

It’s all over before it even really starts.

I think the jocks only realize just how big Michael is when he gets closer.

Maybe too much beer and testosterone has affected their depth of perception.

The one I heard call out, calling me a name I never want to hear again is first to charge at Michael.

He has something in his hand too, and I shriek when I see him lunge at Michael, who looks like a skyscraper compared to what must be in reality, just a kid in Michael’s eyes.

All my man has to do is step aside, and gravity takes care of the rest.

The abusive jock lunges headfirst into one of his friends, who cries out in pain once whatever he had in his hand slices his arm.

Another, heavier jock tries the same from behind, but as Michael shifts his weight he’s out of the way, flattening another three morons without even having to use his hands.

The girls all start to cry, with two of them running away.

Michael checks on the jock with the bloodied arm, and squats down on his hams, talking to them all in a low voice before coming back over to me, wanting to make sure I’m okay.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he says, wiping his hands and leading me away from the scene. The groaning jocks on the sand make me smile for some reason.

Wishing I’d had Michael in college when jocks just like these would torment me about my weight.

“Wha- What did you tell them?” I finally ask, needing to know as we climb the steep path back up to the house after he double-checks the gate is closed and locked.

Michael shrugs with a smile.

“I only mentioned I’d be back down after dinner to make sure the beach was clear and to make sure they tookalltheir trash with them,” he says matter of fact.

“You were great,” I gush, suddenly tearful, unable to control the memories anymore, he takes a hold of me.

“Hey,” he says gently, hugging me close and stroking my hair. “It’s all over now.” He soothes me, and I almost want to tell him why it’s upset me so much but it’s like he keeps saying.

That part of my life is over now. New beginnings.

With his arm still around me, we make it back inside just in time for the front gate intercom to go off.

“Dinner’s here,” Michael says, settling me down on a kitchen stool, asking if I’ll be alright while he goes to get it.