Page 12 of Truth or Dare

“I don’t even know who that girl is anymore,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hudson glanced over at me, his brow furrowing. “She’s still in there, Presley. You just buried her under all this other crap.”

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat growing tighter. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not.” He slowed the truck as we approached a red light. “But I’ve been through enough to know that trying to be someone else never works. It just... hurts more in the end.”

I shifted in my seat, my fingers playing with the edge of my phone case. Hudson didn’t know what it was like now—how fragile everything felt. One wrong move, and it could all come crashing down. Evan was proof of that. He held power over me, the kind that made you feel trapped.

Hudson seemed to sense my thoughts, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “You don’t owe him anything. Don’t let him control your life just because you’re afraid of what people might think.”

I bit my lip, staring out into the night.Easier said than done.

CHAPTER 4

Hudson

Isat by the pool, the joint burning between my fingers, the orange ember glowing brighter with each deep drag. The smoke curled around my face before dissolving into the night sky, the quiet broken only by a distant dog barking. Presley had barely said a word on the drive back. I could feel the weight of her silence, the way it clung to the air like humidity.

She was stuck. I could see it, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Stuck in a mess called Evan, the kind of asshole who fed off control. It killed me that she might sacrifice her happiness just to keep her status intact.How could she not see it?

I took another hit, holding the smoke deep in my lungs before exhaling slowly. The night felt heavy—too quiet, too perfect, unlike the cramped apartment I’d spent years in. Back then, nothing was ever silent.

Paper-thin walls echoed with arguments, blaring televisions, and the worst—Mrs. Krushevsky's cabbage. I could practically smell it now. Even with the fire escape, my escape, there was no peace. But it was real, alive. This place? It felt like a hollow shell.

The joint burned halfway down, so I stubbed it on the ground, slipping it in my shirt pocket for later. I stood, stretching out, the cool night air brushing against my skin. Inside, the house was a fortress. Dark, quiet, and huge. Alex, my stepdad, had money—enough to give me my own space in the basement, a mini-apartment with all the luxuries I could need. But sometimes, it didn’t feel like mine. Not like the fire escape had.

I made my way downstairs, stripping out of my clothes as I went, tossing them in a pile. The sheets were cool when I slid under them, but my mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Presley. Her laugh, her smile—she used to be someone different, someone real. Now, she was wrapped up in a world I didn’t recognize. And I hated that Evan had any part of it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but her image lingered. Her body, her curves, the way she walked—everything about her was intoxicating. No wonder Evan picked her. But it wasn’t just her looks. Presley had something more, something deep inside that he couldn’t even see.

Sleep finally crept in, and it felt like no time had passed before a knock at the door startled me awake.

“Yeah?” I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Can I come in?” my mom called softly.

I glanced down, realizing I was completely naked under the quilt. “Yeah, hold on.” I quickly tugged the blanket higher, covering myself. “Okay.”

She stepped inside, dressed in her tennis whites, ready for her morning game. “We’re heading to the club. Do you want to come?”

I stifled a yawn. “Nah, you know how I feel about that place. Full of elitist assholes.”

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Are you calling us elitists?”

I chuckled. “No, but you know the crowd. Not my thing.”

“There’s leftover ravioli in the fridge if you want lunch later,” she offered, already half-expecting my rejection.

“I might hit Fromby’s for a burger,” I said, sitting up.

Her expression shifted, concern briefly flashing across her face. “Just be home for dinner. The Rossis are coming over.”

That got my attention. “Presley too?”

She tilted her head, a curious smile playing on her lips. “I suppose. Are you two still friends? You were inseparable once, like two peas in a pod.”

I groaned inwardly. Not this conversation. “We haven’t really talked in years, Mom. It’s been... a while.”

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