Page 67 of Truth or Dare

She snorted softly. “Doubt it. Joel and Sylvia are their best friends.”

Reaching over to the nightstand, she grabbed her phone, swiping the screen before holding it out to me.

Should be home by this evening. Take care of Neil. Love you.

“They’re not coming backuntil tonight?”

“Exactly.” She met my gaze, a mischievous gleam lighting up her eyes. “So… what do you think we should do?”

I grinned, about to pull her close again, when a knock on the door interrupted us. Presley quickly tucked the blanket around her almost-bare body, her irritation visible.

“What?”

“Can I come in?” Neil’s voice sounded from the other side.

“Yeah,” she muttered.

Neil stepped into the room, fully dressed in his Asterdale football sweats. Presley frowned, sitting up but keeping the blanket clutched around her chest.

“Where the hell are you going?” she growled.

He scuffed his sneaker against the floor, looking both embarrassed and defensive. “I have a game this afternoon. Did you forget? We have a light practice this morning.”

I bit down on my bottom lip, gauging his pale face and the way he held his head, as if it hurt just to keep his eyes open. “I think you should skip today. You’re not going to play, anyway.”

Neil’s shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping, and I instantly regretted the harshness. He was trying so hard to fit in, to be a part of the team, and I could see the hope deflating in his expression.

“I should go, though. It’s only a few more games, and…” His voice trailed off.

“You don’t want them thinking they got the best of you, right?” I said, finishing off his sentence.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know I was stupid last night.”

“How do you feel?” I asked, noting his ashen face and the dark circles under his eyes.

He rubbed at his temples. “I have a headache.”

Presley sat up straighter, still holding the blanket around her. “Stay home, Neil. You’ve got a hangover, for god’s sake.”

His jaw tightened. “But if I don’t go, I’ll look like a coward.”

She sighed, but I backed her up. “Presley’s right, Neil. You can’t practice like this. You need water, rest—forget about Evan and the team.”

Neil exhaled, frustration radiating from him. “If you don’t want to drive me, just say so.”

Presley’s patience finally snapped. “It’s not that, Neil! You look like hell. Go back to bed and sleep it off.”

His eyes flashed, anger and hurt mingling. “You’re such a bitch!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I pushed the covers off, swinging my legs over the edge, ready to follow, but Presley caught my arm.

“Don’t,” she murmured. “He’s upset. He’ll calm down.”

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “Let me at least go close his door.”

She nodded, and I rose, padding quietly into the hallway, where Neil’s door hung ajar. Inside, he was curled up on the bed, his back to the door, arms wrapped around himself. I closed his door gently, a silent promise to check in later, and returned to Presley, slipping back under the covers. She pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, grounding me.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

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