Page 17 of Truth or Dare

I faked a strained breath. "My stomach..."

Everyone stared as I stumbled towards the locker room. No one followed, thankfully. Once inside, I collapsed onto the nearest bench, waiting for the dizziness to pass. The door creaked open behind me.

"Pres? Coach sent me to check on you." Reagan’s voice was soft, but I could hear the hint of suspicion.

"I’m not feeling well," I lied. "I threw up."

She wrinkled her nose. "Tuna for lunch? You probably have food poisoning."

"Yeah, maybe." I groaned dramatically, hoping she’d leave it at that.

"Want me to tell Coach you’re heading home?"

I flushed the toilet for effect and emerged from the stall. Reagan leaned against the sink, arms crossed, concern on her face—but something else flickered there too. Ambition.

"Please. I doubt I’ll make it to the game." I saw her lips twitch, the smallest hint of satisfaction crossing her face.

"That sucks. Guess you won’t be going to Evan’s this weekend either."

I shrugged, washing my hands. "He’ll survive."

"And Randy’s having another party," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Have fun," I said, wiping my hands dry.

As we left the locker room, Reagan headed back to the gym, and I turned toward the parking lot. The drizzle outside mirrored my mood, dampening everything in its wake. When I reached my locker, another note had fallen into the clutter inside. I grabbed it, stuffing it into my pocket as I made my way out of the building.

The smell of cigarette smoke hit me the second I stepped out.

"That was quick," Hudson’s voice drawled from behind me.

I jumped, spinning around. "Jesus, you scared me."

He took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the wet ground, stomping it out. "Smoking’s not allowed on school property, you know."

I rolled my eyes. "You think I’m going to snitch?"

His lips curled into that infuriating smirk. "Didn’t think so."

I narrowed my eyes. "I’m not in the mood, Hudson."

"Yeah, I noticed." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"You’re over this place. Sick of wearing that mask, pretending to be someone you’re not."

My breath caught in my throat. "You don’t know anything about me."

"Don’t I?" He held my gaze, challenging me, his eyes daring me to deny it.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words settle into my chest. Was I that easy to figure out? Hudson had barely been around me for years, yet he saw right through me, while my own friends and family remained oblivious.

“How would you know what I’m sick of?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Because I know you,” Hudson said, running a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back. Droplets of rain fell from his skin, glistening on his leather jacket. He looked like he belonged in this storm, all brooding and beautiful.

I snorted, trying to deflect the rising emotion. “You don’t know me. You haven’t seen me in years. No one knows me.” My throat burned, and tears welled up, threatening to spill over. I turned on my heel, making a beeline for the parking lot, but I could hear his boots splashing in the puddles behind me.

When I reached my Jeep, Hudson was already at the passenger side door, slipping in beside me. His presence was infuriatingly steady, like he belonged there. I didn’t look at him until I felt his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

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