Page 75 of Truth or Dare

“You’re such an asshole.” Her voice was flat, and the call ended with a click before I could respond.

I stared at the screen, her contact photo frozen on the call log. WTF? I tried calling back, but each time, it went straight to voicemail. I sent a quick text, my thumb punching the words hard.

You know I’m right.

When the readreceipt didn’t pop up, I tossed my phone on the bed, closing my eyes and letting the tension settle like a weight in my chest. I’d call her tomorrow—after she’d cooled off.

CHAPTER 22

Presley

Neil was out of my Jeep the second I put it in park, the door slamming shut before I even cut the engine. He hadn’t spoken to me in nearly a week, and the silence was getting under my skin. Each day, he’d sit in his seat, his face lit by the morning sun as he stared out the window, refusing to acknowledge me. The tension between us was sharp enough to cut, but I had bigger problems to deal with.

I grabbed my phone from the holder, swiping the screen and rereading Evan's message that had dropped in while I was texting Hudson.

We need to talk, and don’t say no.

The accompanyingpicture clenched my stomach. I should have known better than to think I’d get away with it. Still, I knew something he didn’t—or maybe he knew, too. I typed a reply, fingers tight against the screen.

I’m here. Where do you want to talk?

Weight room. It’s empty. And bring me a cup of coffee. You know what I like.

I clenched my jaw,forcing down an exasperated breath as I headed into the building. After grabbing his coffee, I made my way to the weight room. Evan was there, perched on a bench, arms crossed over his chest, his brows pinched, and his lips twisted into a scowl.

“I hope you put enough sugar in it,” he growled, extending his hand. “Give it here.”

I held my ground, steadying myself as I handed him the coffee. He took a slow sip, his gaze locked on mine. The room was silent, save for his slurping and the steady thud of my pulse. He tapped something on his phone, and mine buzzed immediately.

“Evan…” I began, an uneasy feeling snaking up my spine.

He held up a hand, a smug grin spreading across his face. “You might want to check that.”

I glanced down. His text waited, a series of photos—me and Hudson in Evan’s room, rifling through his things until we’d heard the unmistakable footsteps of his mom and her lover. My breath hitched. I knew Evan well enough to recognize he was setting me up, making me sweat before delivering whatevertwisted judgment he had in store. I forced myself to look him in the eye.

“What do you want?”

He smirked, his gaze sliding over me. “You. I want you back. I want more than a taste of that sweet mouth. Neil told me you’ve been giving it to Hudson. Well, now it’s my turn.”

My grip tightened on my backpack, knuckles white. “Go to hell. That’s never going to happen.”

He rose from the bench, his movement fast and sharp. Before I could back away, his hand shot out, grabbing my sweater and yanking me toward him. My body slammed into his chest, his arm wrapping around me like a vise. I twisted, but his grip held, his strength an unbreakable wall.

Evan placed his coffee on the bench beside him, his free hand slipping lower until his fingers gripped my waist. “Oh, there’s a way. I’ve got photos of you committing a little breaking and entering, remember? Now, what were you doing in my house, Presley?”

I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Why were you there?”

I glared up at him, my anger sparking. “Because you hurt my brother. You got him drunk and dumped him like trash—all to get back at me.”

He laughed, the sound low and mocking, his fingers digging into my waist. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that important to me.”

I struggled against him, my voice rising. “Then why do you even want me back?”

His gaze hardened, his grip unyielding. “Because I want what he has—what he stole from me. I was this close, and then you messed it up. Hudson was just the scapegoat. Now, he’s going to pay for it.”

I pushed at his chest, but he only tightened his hold. “It was your fault, not his. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t treated me like I owed you something.”

---