Page 14 of Truth or Dare

I shrugged, throwing my backpack into my locker with a heavy thud. “Wasn’t feeling it,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the books I pretended to sort.

“I thought you were crashing at my place,” Randy pressed. “You didn’t drive drunk, did you?”

My frown deepened, and I slammed the locker shut with more force than necessary. “I wouldn’t do that,” I growled, narrowing my eyes at him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Just asking.”

The first tone rang out, sending Randy hurrying down the hall. I didn’t bother moving. Being late wasn’t on my list of concerns. I popped a piece of gum into my mouth, chewing slowly as the halls began to clear, leaving behind an eerie quiet.

Once I was sure no one was around, I slipped the folded note I’d been carrying through the slats of Presley’s locker. My heart raced as the paper disappeared into the void. The words I’d scribbled down felt like a final attempt—one last chance to pull her away from Evan before it was too late.

I stood there for a moment, staring at her locker, hoping she'd read it and remember who she was before all this.

CHAPTER 5

Presley

"Where did you go on Saturday night?" Reagan's voice cut through the noise of the hallway, casual but curious.

She fell into step beside me as I headed toward my locker, her eyes flicking over my face for any sign of a story.

"Evan... we had a fight," I muttered, keeping my voice low. "I told him it was over."

I didn’t offer details—Reagan didn’t need to know about Hudson Evert. She didn’t need to know I spent the night tangled in old memories with someone I once loved instead of looking after my drunk boyfriend. That was my secret, and I intended to keep it that way.

Reagan raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "So, what changed since I saw him practically glued to your face this morning before homeroom?"

I spun the dial on my locker, avoiding her gaze. "He apologized," I said, pulling the door open. "Brought me flowers on Sunday."

She crouched beside her backpack, rummaging for something, completely unaware of the folded paper that fluttered from the top shelf of my locker to the floor. My heart skipped. Quickly, I snatched it up, shoving it into my pocket before she could notice. There was no writing on the outside of the note—just a plain, mysterious fold—and I had no idea who had left it.

"What kind of flowers?" Reagan asked, handing me a stick of gum without looking up.

"Roses," I replied, sliding the gum into my palm. "Red ones. They were beautiful."

She sighed, a dreamy expression crossing her face, and for a moment, I wondered if anyone had ever given her flowers. Reagan had a habit of burning through relationships before they had the chance to develop. That’s why most guys didn’t take her seriously. Me? I believed in making someone work for it. Except for Deke, of course.

I glanced sideways at her as she popped her gum. Deke had been different—years of quiet infatuation, followed by two days of heavy flirting, a few beers for courage, and then we slept together. I hadn’t expected declarations of love or promises of forever, and that was fine. But Evan? That was a different story. After I found his notebook, he was going to work for it, and hard. He would have to prove he deserved me.

"Everything’s good, then?" Reagan asked, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

I kept my hand in my pocket, my fingers brushing the edge of the note, wondering who had left it and what it meant. "Yeah. Good."

Reagan shoved a piece of gum into her mouth just as the first bell rang. I glanced at the clock. I should have headed to class, but the bathroom felt like a better idea right now. I’d probably be late for calculus, but it wasn’t a big deal. Mr. Basile was always slow to start, and I knew he liked me—I'd aced his trig class last year.

"You coming?" Reagan asked, already halfway down the hall.

"Bathroom," I called over my shoulder, turning toward the restroom.

Inside, I checked under the stalls—empty. Perfect. My pulse quickened as I pulled the note from my pocket, my fingers trembling slightly. There was something about it—the way the letters were blocked, the faint scent of cigarette smoke mixed with cologne that I recognized from Saturday night. Hudson’s cologne.

It had to be him.

I unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning the two short lines.To be prideful is to be full of sin.

I frowned,rubbing my forehead as the second bell rang. What the hell was Hudson talking about? Prideful? Me? I didn’t think I held myself in high regard. I wasn’t special. So why send me this?

The third bell was already ringing by the time I slid into my seat, the note safely tucked back in my pocket. Hudson’s message swirled in my mind, and I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was coming. Something I wasn’t ready for.

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