A Date with the Devil Page 4

  Surely, he won’t ask anything too personal or dare me to do anything too ludicrous…right? “Truth,” I answer hesitantly.

  “Even though you’re my elder, do you find me attractive?” He is flashing me one of his charming smiles.

  I avoided those thoughts about Tyson for a very long time. When I finally realized the truth, I was lit on fire. There is no doubt in my mind he can get any girl he wants. Apart from his perfectly styled hair, deep brown eyes, and charming smile, his bone structure is impressive.

  I find myself blushing thinking of my best friend in such a way, reaching for the shot glass sooner than I like. I take the shot like a champ, but grimace at the bitter aftertaste.

  “Interesting,” he mumbles to himself as he sits back in his chair. “Your turn.”

  “Alright, truth or dare?”

  He ponders this for a moment before replying. “Truth.” I’m surprised he’s taking the safe route.

  “What was your first impression of me when you met me over a year ago?” I’ve been curious for the longest time, especially because Robbie had always been so jealous and overprotective. I always thought Tyson was harmless.

  He doesn’t even stop to think about his answer, just looks me dead in the eyes. “I thought you were my hot next door neighbor.”

  The minute the word hot leaves his lips, I’m blushing. I can feel the heat behind my cheeks. So he thought I was hot. “Wait a minute!” I exclaim, a realization bubbling to the surface. “Is that why you were always ‘out of eggs’?” I use air quotes to get my point across.

  “Nuh-uh.” He shakes his finger in front of my face. “Only one question a turn. You’re cheating. Do you know what that means?”

  I shake my head no.

  “You have to drink!”

  “What? Since when? You never established that as a rule!” I protest.

  “Too late—drink up.” He pushes my glass closer to me.

  I groan. “Okay, fine, but I think you’re trying to get me drunk.” The alcohol is flowing through my body a few minutes later.

  “Truth or dare, Bryce?”

  He has already refilled my glass and although I’ve only taken two shots, I can feel the alcohol warming my body; coursing through my veins. “Dare.”

  He raises his left eyebrow, surprised at my answer. He begins rubbing his palms together. “Now it’s getting good.”

  My stomach dips as I begin to think maybe I made a mistake.

  “I dare you to take that shot in front of you and then another one immediately after.”

  “You are trying to get me drunk!” I point my finger directly in his face.

  He chuckles, breaking out into a grin. “Maybe.”

  I smile at Tyson then down the shot, keeping my poker face tighter this time. He pours me the next one, and it doesn’t go down as smoothly. I have to close my eyes tightly and ignore my immediate want to spit it back out.

  Now I’m really feeling the alcohol. My head is beginning to feel heavy and fuzzy, and I am giggling for no apparent reason.

  “What’s so funny?” Tyson asks, attempting to fight off a smile.

  I don’t even know why I have the giggles, but the more I continue to laugh, the harder it is for Tyson not to join in. Soon we are both chuckling heartily, grabbing our sides from the pain.

  “I don’t even know what we are laughing at, but I have a feeling I am going to need more alcohol for this.” He takes his shot voluntarily before pouring another one for our game. “Whose turn is it even?”

  All the laughing has thrown us off track. “I’m pretty sure it’s yours, and I’m the drunk one!”

  “So my plan is working.” He laughs an evil laugh and I glare at him.

  “Hey! No fair!” I push him lightly in the shoulder. “I dare you to sing ‘I’m a little teapot’ and dance around this room here!”

  His mouth falls open. “I don’t even get a choice in this matter, do I?” I shake my head no furiously.

  I feel so silly, goofy, and for the first time in a long time, carefree. I can’t stop smiling.

  He stands up quickly from the table then looks back at the bottle. “Nope, fuck that.” Before he decides to take his shot instead.

  “Yes!” I say in victory. “My plan is working.”

  He looks shocked. “This is war!”

  I can’t help but giggle.

  He looks up at the clock on the microwave. “Alright Bryce, you ready?”

  He’s got his game face on and I’m worried about what that means for me. “Dare,” I say, feeling unusually free.

  He takes a deep breath before speaking. “I dare you to take a walk with me to the mailbox.”

  My stomach drops. Oh, hell no. I glare back at him. He just took all the fun out of the game. I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid. I down the shot in less than three seconds then scoot my chair out and walk out of the room.

  “Bryce!” I hear him calling after me. I can hear his footsteps behind me and then his hand grabbing my arm. “Bryce, where are you going?”

  “I’ve had enough of this stupid game,” I reply, a bitter look taking over my face.

  We are standing in the hallway. He’s managed to stop me from walking away. He is standing in front of me and I can’t even look him in the eyes.

  “Bryce, I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Just come back to the table and…”

  “No!” I shove him roughly. More rough than I probably should have, but anger is building up inside me. “You just had to take it there…didn’t you? Was that your plan all along? Get me drunk and convince me to forget everything?”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry. Please, Bryce, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just the alcohol talking.” I can see him shove his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

  I’m furious with him. Tyson of all people. He should have known better.

  He reaches his hand up so that his fingers grace my chin, tilting it upward. I am now finally looking him in the eyes. My skin feels hot beneath his touch. I avert his gaze, but he follows it with his body.

  “Bryce, please, just look at me,” he pleads. Against my better judgment, I do exactly as he asks. When our eyes finally lock, he sighs loudly. “You know I would never let anyone hurt you, right?”

  His words are so sincere, so genuine. This is the first time I’ve ever been upset with Tyson and I feel more disappointed in myself.

  I look down at my feet, and again he tilts my chin back up so we are staring into one another’s eyes. There is something about the way he looks at me, like he can see through to my soul. It makes me shudder. Not in a bad way, but in a way I’ve never felt before. My tongue is dry, and I’m swallowing madly.

  Best friends shouldn’t feel this way. Something has shifted, and I’m not sure I’m ready to confront the change just yet. The tension is high and thick.

  “Bryce,” he says my name softly, and then he begins inching closer.

  My mind goes into overdrive and I freak out. Best friends don’t kiss. My heart is pounding wildly as I rack my brain of how to get out of this predicament without ruining our friendship altogether. “I can’t,” I stammer as I push him away and run upstairs to the bathroom.

  I lock the door and lean against it, my mind and heart at an all-time war. I breathe in deeply, trying to make sense of what just happened…or almost happened. I can’t even think clearly. My best friend almost kissed me, and although I pushed him away, I’m pretty sure I wanted it.

  Before

  * * *

  My breathing takes me by surprise, overwhelming and frantic. I’m running for the front entrance as soon as I hear the familiar roar of his engine driving away. I rip open the door, the cool air slapping me in the face, and I keel over, gasping for air.

  Robbie hasn’t let me leave the house in over a week. He forced me to call in sick to work and took the keys to my car. This is the first time he’s let me out of his sight. It’s only because he doesn’t have any mo
re sick days at his job, so he had to go in. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what seems like an eternity. He can’t keep me a prisoner here any longer.

  I take a few shaky steps onto the porch and then plop down on the stairs, throwing my head between my knees. He took my phone from me, so I can’t call anyone. He’s even gone as far as to disable the internet. He’ll die before he ever lets me leave.

  “Hey there, neighbor!” A familiar voice breaks into my thoughts. I lift my head up and my eyes meet Tyson’s. He is wearing a black t-shirt with some band I’ve never heard of before on it and blue jeans. His dark eyes are warm and inviting.

  I force a fake smile upon my lips. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Whoa,” he says, his face falling and concern lacing his tone. “Are you okay?”

  I shift my eyes away from him, startled. Shit. I’ve been locked up inside for so long, I forgot what my face might look like to the rest of the world. I am sporting a gnarly black eye and a busted lip. “Oh, yeah,” I lie, my lip quivering. “I’m such a klutz.”

  Tyson continues to eye me down suspiciously. It all happens so quickly: he reaches out to touch my face, and I flinch so severely, he snaps his hand back. It’s not you, I want to tell him. How fucked up is it that my first instinct is to pull away, duck, or flinch? “I’m sorry,” he stammers. “That was impolite of me.”

  I look up into his eyes and I can feel the emotions beginning to overtake me. My eyesight is growing blurry, and I’m breathing deeply. “You have nothing to apologize for,” I say, my voice quivering.

  Tyson takes a seat next to me on the steps, but keeps a good distance. “Look, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I want you to know that I’m here for you if you ever need to talk.” Besides borrowing eggs and flour a couple of times, we haven’t spent more than a total of thirty minutes together since we first met.

  I nod, sniffling.

  His eyes grow serious. “Whether you got that from being accident prone, or from another reason entirely, you have nothing to be ashamed of, okay?”

  I nod, biting my lip. His words help comfort me. I am embarrassed about my injured face. A light bulb goes off inside my head, and my eyes shift over to where his classic dark blue Volkswagen Bug sits in the driveway next door. “Hey, this is going to seem really off the wall, and you can totally say no, please don’t feel like I’m pressuring you or anything…but…”

  Tyson grows impatient, waiting for me to ask my question. “What do you need, Bryce?”

  I lock eyes with him, exhaling sharply. “Do you think you might be able to give me a ride somewhere in a couple of hours?”

  His eyes flick to my car. “What happened to your car?” he asks.

  I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s been giving me problems lately.”

  He nods, his eyes still focused on my Honda. “No problem. I can take a look at it if you’d like me to,” he offers like the gentleman he is.

  I shake my head back and forth quickly. “No, it’s okay, Robbie is going to take it in,” I lie.

  Tyson breaks his gaze with my car. “Should I even ask what happened to the window?”

  It’s too complicated to tell him the truth. I can’t get him involved. All I need is a ride, no strings attached.

  “What time do you need me here?” he asks.

  I glance at the watch on his wrist. 4:23 p.m. Robbie shouldn’t be home until well after ten. “Can you meet me here at 6:15?”

  He nods with a small smile. “Can do.”

  “Thanks, Tyson,” I reply, jumping up from my seated position and throwing my arms around him. I surprise even myself with the quick movement. Tyson chuckles as I feel his hands lightly graze my back, sending chills up and down my spine. I pull away slowly, my gaze meeting his. It’s crazy how right it feels being in his arms. Before I even realize what I am doing, I find myself leaning in to him.

  “Whoa,” Tyson says softly, pulling away from me. “I am so sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” he says, his face full of sympathy.

  My stomach drops as I realize just how badly I’ve messed up.

  Please don’t leave me here with him.

  I swallow before speaking. “I’m sorry. I—I—I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

  Tyson stares back at me sadly. “Hey, don’t even sweat it. Look, you’re sexy as hell, but you’re not single, and I just met someone.”

  I don’t know why his words cut so deeply. I have no reason to be upset by what he’s said, but my mind thinks otherwise. “I hope I can still count on you for that ride. I promise I won’t try to kiss you again,” I say hoping to lighten the mood.

  Tyson cracks a smile. “Of course. I’ll be back.” He turns his back to me and begins walking the short distance back to his own house.

  What the hell are you doing, Bryce? Did you really just try to kiss a neighbor? I climb back up the porch stairs and back into the house, closing the door behind me.

  I have no time to dwell on what just transpired. Tonight is the night. I’m getting the hell out of here.

  Five: Breaking Down the Boundaries

  I wake up feeling groggy and slightly hung over. I have a migraine, and the sun is sneaking its way through my blinds and illuminating my small room.

  Tyson tried to kiss me last night.

  I almost let him.

  It’s Saturday morning, and I still have a day and a half left with my best friend before my parents’ return. That is if he didn’t take off already. I wouldn’t blame him after our awkward encounter last night.

  I toss my comforter off my body and quickly give myself a once over in my vanity mirror. I have bed head, but not terribly bad. I run my fingers through my short hair to attempt to give it some composure. I look down at my oversized shirt and sweatpants before deciding against changing. Tyson has seen me in my pajamas more times than I can count, and I’m too worried that he’s upset with me to waste any more time.

  Slowly, I pull my door open, trying not to make too much noise. Last night I gave him permission to sleep in Mikey’s room, but when I see Mikey’s bed untouched, I know there is something wrong. I race down the stairs, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and dash to the window inside the study; the one that faces the street. I pull back the blinds and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see Tyson’s old beat up Bug in the driveway. So, he didn’t leave.

  I make my way to the living room and sure enough, he is passed out on the couch, hugging the near empty bottle of vodka. I can’t help stifling a laugh. He stirs from the noise, tiredly opening his eyes and looking up at me. He must have forgotten what he was holding because the bottle rolls right out of his arms and onto the ground with a thud. I burst out laughing, thankful for the change in the air.

  His eyes are only halfway open, but his face holds a confused expression. “What’s so funny?” He begins rubbing his eyes.

  “You.” I continue giggling, then take a seat on the loveseat across from him. “Look, are we okay?” I figure it’s better to nip it in the bud then to let it fester any longer.

  “Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” he asks.