Page 27 of Needed You

Me: I’m at Hal’s Hoagies to grab some dinner. I was going to go to the lake. Want to join me?

There’s a pause, and I suddenly feel extremely self-conscious and stupid. Why would Dare want to hang out on a random Thursday—

Lycan: Give me twenty minutes and I’ll meet you there.

I suck in a deep breath, pocket my phone, and remove my helmet to head into Hal’s. As I’m walking into the sandwich shop, I realize I didn’t ask Dare what he wanted. There’s a line, like always, so I have some time to figure out what to do. When it’s finally my turn, I order two Italian hoagies, a bag of chips, and two bottles of water. Italian hoagies seem like a safe bet; everyone likes them, so it should be okay.

Outside again, I secure the food and water bottles in my backpack and get on my bike. It’s only about a fifteen-minute ride to the lake, and as I pull into the loading area, the sun is starting to set, casting rays of light across the water. The sky is turning beautiful shades of orange and yellow, and though there’s still plenty of sunlight, it won’t be long before it’s dark.

As I cut the engine, my eyes land on the form of a man sitting on the end of the dock. The breeze is making his hair blow, and a puff of smoke leaves his lips. He turns his face to me. I’m still far enough away that I can’t see the details, but it’s obviously Dare. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as goose bumps erupt on my arms and neck. Maybe it’s a little bit more chilly than I thought.

I shake my head and then remove my helmet and walk toward the dock.

When I get to the edge, Dare scoots back a little bit. I stand for a moment and just drink him in. He’s dressed in all black—ripped jeans, a black shirt under his black leather jacket—though he’s taken off his black boots, his pale feet and toes dangling just above the water. I smirk to myself when I see the black polish on his toenails. He has a style that just does something to me. It’s so unique and seems to suit him so perfectly, and it’s completely sexy. It’s so different from the boy I used to know.

My eyes move up his body, lingering for a moment on the chains hanging off his jacket and the small spikes on the tops of the sleeves where they meet his shoulder. I finally reach his face, and he’s looking at me, perplexed. I clear my throat, and he smiles, pulling his lip ring into his mouth and letting it back out while licking his lips in the process.

God. This man is dangerous.

He makes my heart stutter and my throat go dry. I haven’t had feelings like this for a long time. I want to know everything there is to know about him, and that realization unlocks almost immediately. I should stay away from him. Lord knows I’ve done enough damage in his life.

But Dare has something special about him, a draw that seems to make me need to be in his orbit. I feel different when I’m near him. Warmer and curious.

I take a few deep breaths as I approach him, and I clear my throat again, then sit down, opening the backpack.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got Italian hoagies. Hope that’s okay.” I pull the sandwiches out of my bag and give one to him. Then I open the chips, set the bag between us, and hand him a water. He thanks me, taking it from my hand. “Well, it’s a hoagie here,” I continue, “but in Sheltonville, they were ‘subs.’ Everyone called them subs. Hey man, let’s get some subs.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he puts his sandwich down on the dock and unwraps it, and I do the same. I tuck all the meat and toppings into the roll and make it as compact as possible, then lift it and take a bite. It’s good. I chew and look over at Dare, who’s also taken a bite out of his sandwich, but he’s looking out over the lake.

He shakes his head a little. “Subs.” He chuckles. “Subs?”

“You should have heard them busting on me in Sheltonville when I said hoagie the first time. They looked at me like I had another arm.”

Darian laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound that makes me smile.

“Sub,” he says under his breath, shaking his head again. “That’s so weird.”

We sit in silence for a while, the only sounds the occasional crunching of chips and crinkling of napkins as we wipe our hands and faces. When he’s through with part of his sandwich, Dare finally speaks.

“So your bike is nice.”

I glance over at him, aware of my heart beating hard in my chest. At least this is a topic I’m always willing to talk about. “Thank you,” I say. “I really love riding. There’s just something about it.”

“I’ve never been,” Dare admits.

It doesn’t surprise me. Outside of Garrett, I was the only one out of our friend group who had an interest in motorcycles when we were growing up, and I know my interest is because of Uncle John.

“You’re missing out,” I tell Dare. “It’s just . . . there’s nothing like it.” I consider taking him for a ride, but I’m not sure how he would be with that right now, so I decide against it. “One of these days, I’ll get you out with me.” He doesn’t say anything, but I see curiosity in his eyes. We sit in silence for a little bit more. Finally, I say, “What did you do today?”

Almost as if my voice startles him, Dare jerks and turns to me. “Ha. Nothing, really. I worked.”

I nod and wonder if this is all I’m going to get from him. This Dare is very different from Drunk Dare a week or so ago.

“You’re in graphic design, right?” I ask, trying to carry the conversation.

He nods and takes a chip. I watch it as he slides it over his lips and into his mouth. Then he starts to chew. I suddenly feel like I’m staring at him, so I look out at the lake.

“That’s cool. Do you like it?” I suddenly feel almost . . . shy. I don’t consider myself a shy person, so this sort of comes as a shock to me that I’m struggling to get words out and talk to him.