Page 4 of Wicked Dares
It’s about Reece, my asshole ex, the man who turned my world upside down and inside out, then ripped it to shreds. It’s a miracle I managed to pick up the pieces of what was left.
It’s taken me a little over a year to get back on my feet. I still feel like a shadow of that girl. But I’m trying, slowly making my way back to who I used to be. And maybe a better version, one who makes better decisions.
At twenty-six, I never thought I’d have to learn life’s toughest lessons about the ugly side of love or that some mistakes don’t just shape you, they rewrite you.
Quickly, I shove his face from my mind, along with all the other terrible memories. I don’t want to think about him tonight. Oreveragain.
As long as Reece is locked away in prison where he belongs, I’ll be fine.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself whenever the memories get too loud and I feel them pulling me under.
“I’m excited for a fresh start.” I grin, relaxing my shoulders. “Just don’t make me do anything too crazy tonight. I want to show up for my temp job in one piece tomorrow. I need to make a good impression.”
“They’ll love you.” Alexis looks certain of this.
“I really hope so.” It’s just a meager admin assistant job, but it will pay the bills, and it’s in marketing at a renowned investment company. “I’m hoping to impress the hell out of the head of the department. If I do, there’s a good chance I’ll be able to keep the job and work my way up.”
With my distinguished academic achievements, this isn’t the life I thought I’d have at this stage of my career, but surviving long enough to rebuild counts for something.
“Don’t worry. Like I said, they’llloveyou.” She gives me a determined nod and a mischievous look flashes in her eyes. “Enough real-world talk. Drink up, girl, and let’s go have some fun.”
I drain the rest of my drink. As soon as I set the empty glass on the table, Alexis grabs my arm and practically pulls me onto the dance floor, where we’re quickly absorbed by the crowd.
The lights sweep over us in waves of gold and crimson, blurring strangers into flashes of movement. Everything feels almost cinematic.
That club mix is still playing and everyone is loving it. Watching people dance in their colorful masks is fascinating. The cascade of colors is pretty, and the confidence behind the masks is noticeable, even with me. Strange how a little thing can make you feel like a different person. Or at least not who you are for the night.
Two hours fly by, and we have the time of our lives dancing, daring, and meeting new people. It didn’t take long for someone to come up to us and say, “I dare you.” Then a host of dares followed. Alexis got the bulk, most of which involved drinking games. I tried to make myself scarce for those because I’m mindful about tomorrow.
The most daring dare I accepted was taking over the bartender’s job for fifteen minutes and dancing barefooted in the DJ booth.
Now I’m back on the floor, swaying to a Taylor Swift song with a lemonade sweating in my hand. Alexis is in the booth again, deep in conversation with the guy who dared her to flash him — a dare she'd accepted within seconds.
True to her nature, she’s always attracting attention. Same type as always—jock guys who trail after her like sheep. This one’s an ice hockey player, which automatically puts him inher good books. At least for tonight. She’s a sucker for hockey players.
I know the drill. The second she sits down with her chosen guy for the night, she’s gone. I’ll be lucky if I even get a goodbye.
Normally that would make me uneasy. Tonight, oddly enough, it doesn’t.
I’m actually okay with it. It’s nice to have a taste of something familiar. I think I may also head out in a little while. Surprisingly, I’m not tired, but it’s probably wise to get some sleep to be fresh for tomorrow.
I twirl with the music when it hits the high notes, swaying my head from side to side. Just dancing feels good in a way that makes me feel alive. And I have to admit I’m glad I’m not alone tonight.
When I turn again, my eyes lock with a tall, muscular man on the first-floor balcony. He’s leaning against the rail. Watching me.
He’s wearing a mask, but there’s no mistake his eyes are definitely on me.
I’ve had my fair share of attention tonight. I just haven’t encouraged it the way Alexis has. But there’s something about this guy that won’t let me look away.
Maybe it’s the stillness about him. Everyone else in this club moves like they’re performing for attention, but he looks like a man completely certain he already has it.
The music blurs to background noise, and warmth slides down the back of my neck.
I linger, slowing my moves as I take in his potent stare, and allow myself to look at him, too.
He’s dressed in full black, with his dark hair neatly trimmed into a faux hawk. The sharp angles of his face look almost too perfect, like they were made that way on purpose.
He must be at least six foot six or seven—basketball player height. But this guy doesn’t look like an athlete. His build is too solid, his stance too still, like he’s holding himself in check rather than ready to move. Any refinement is undercut by the arrogance simmering beneath.
