Do You Dare? by Lylah James

CHAPTER ONE

Three and a half years ago

Lila

“Motherfuck–” My mouth snapped shut before I hissed out another painful breath as my knees threatened to buckle under me.

The coffee table stared back at me innocently, and I glared in response. Little shit. I gave it a kick, with my uninjured leg, just for the heck of it.

My morning was a mess already, and I fought the urge to take out my anger on the coffee table. Granted, it just bruised my knees, but in reality, the fault was mine.

My alarm didn’t go off, which obviously meant I woke up late. Very late. First period classes had already ended, and it was halfway through second period. Then, in my struggle to get dressed hurriedly, I ended up tearing a hole in my white and pristine school blouse. Great. What a lovely morning already.

Scrambling away from the little table, I ran out of my grandparents’ house and quickly locked the door behind me. I had to catch the bus in two minutes, or else I was going to be mega-fucking-late. The next bus wouldn’t be here for another thirty-five minutes.

As I ran to the nearest bus stop, I quickly went over my morning list in my head. Four very important things. Phone – yes. Earphones – yes. Keys – yes. My English assignment – yes.

Everything seemed to be in order. Now, I just had to make it on time for my third period class, so I could submit my English essay on time. Or else…

I shook my head, refusing to even think of the consequences. My heart started to race and beat erratically at the mere thought of getting a zero on this assignment.

No way. It would ruin my perfect record of straight As. My grandma liked to joke and say I was paranoid and a little too OCD about my marks. My grandpa, with a proud little laugh, would say I was a perfectionist. They weren’t exactly wrong.

My perfect GPA, plus my thousand hours of community service and volunteer work, would get me into Harvard. And it was all that mattered. Harvard was my path. It was my destination, and it was where I belonged. Maybe my grandparents were right. Maybe I was obsessed with the idea of “perfection.” But I didn’t care. If perfection would get me everything I wanted, then Miss Perfectionist I’d be.

The bus came on time, and I successfully climbed in without any more bad luck. My favorite seat at the back of the bus was waiting for me. It gave me the perfect view of the whole bus, and it was a window seat. Once my earphones were in, “Hands to Myself” by Selena Gomez started to blast in my ears. I leaned my forehead against the cool window and watched the world move.

This was probably my favorite part of my morning routine. I’d always been an observer, and one could learn a lot in a ten-minute bus ride.

Not long after, the bus came to a stop, and I walked out; I stopped on the pavement for the briefest moment to stare at the large and old, yet hauntingly beautiful and fancy, building in front of me.

The Berkshire Academy of Weston.

The private school for the rich and the corrupted. Kids of infamous judges, senators, government associates, and some of the highest paid lawyers and doctors in the United States.

I wasn’t one of them. My father was a high school teacher. My mother was a nurse. And I was the quiet and poor girl amongst all the famous, wealthy spawns of the devils themselves. I didn’t belong here. But I chose to be here.

48.2% of Berkshire Academy of Weston graduates end up at an Ivy League College – Yale, Princeton, Dartmouth, or Harvard.

That little fact was the reason why I chose to enroll in this school during my junior year. Now, I was a senior at Berkshire. A few more months, and I’d be out of here.

I took in a deep breath and inhaled the fresh September air. It wasn’t too cold yet. The fall season had just begun, and the leaves were just starting to turn red, orange, and yellow. It was a beautiful time of year – the time where the trees end up naked, silently awaiting their rebirth once again. The end of something beautiful, while waiting for a new beginning.

“Lila!”

My thoughts came to a halt, and I turned to see Riley coming my way. She waved animatedly, and I couldn’t help but smile. Riley was a sweet, wild girl, and my only friend at Berkshire.

Her pretty blonde locks bounced as she hopped over to me. “Are you late, too?”

I nodded with a sigh. She perked up cheekily. “No way! Miss Smarty Pants is late? Jesus, I need to write this down. ASAP.”

The urge to roll my eyes was strong, but I refrained from doing so. “You have Advanced Calculus next, right?” I asked, switching the subject.

I usually loved to join in on the teasing, but I wasn’t in the mood today. Waking up late had made me a tad grumpier. My knee was sore and ached every time I took a step – a constant reminder of how amazing my morning had been so far. Grumpy Lila was no fun.

Riley looked thoughtful for a second. “Yeah. I do,” she responded after a long second. “You?”

“English. We have twenty minutes before our classes start.”

“I actually need to see my teacher before class. Did I mention I hate math? Yeah, I probably did a hundred times. We have a test next week, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to flunk it.” Riley’s normal cheerfulness disappeared, and her brows tensed with a frown. She looked deeply saddened for a moment, but just as quickly, her expression changed, and she was back to happy Riley once again. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

I grabbed her hand before she could leave. “If you want, I can help you this weekend with Calculus.”

She smiled brightly, her whole face shining like the moon. “Really? Thank you, babe. How about we talk more about it at lunch? We can pick a time and place.”

“Sounds good to me.” I let her hand go, and she waved before running through the gates.

I looked down at my phone. Fifteen minutes until my next class. It was enough time for me to grab an iced latte. Perfect. Maybe sugar would help my mood.

The coffee shop was only a few feet away, sitting right next to the campus. It was pretty much only visited by the students of Berkshire. It wasn’t lunch yet, so when I walked in, the shop was fairly quiet. I ordered myself an iced latte with extra whip cream and went to stand next to the heater. “Sugar” by Maroon 5 continued to play in my ear, and I softy hummed along to the song.

When a blast of cool air hit the back of my legs, I turned around to see a group of loud boys walking into the coffee shop. I instantly recognized a few of them from my classes. The Bennett Twins were part of the group. The boys kept the door opened, standing right at the entrance. Half of the group were wearing the required Berkshire uniform – pants, shirt, tie and blazer. The other half were in their gym clothes or football uniforms.

Jocks. Ugh.

Rich. Loud. Foul-mouthed. Annoying. A bit too wild. Everything I stayed away from, and everything I despised.

Whatever.

Ignorance was bliss. I turned back around and focused on my playlist instead, my foot tapping impatiently on the floor. The barista was taking forever, and I desperately needed my sugar. I could feel the group of boys coming closer to me, and I half-listened to them order their own drinks. In my peripheral, I could see them pushing each other around, bumping shoulders, and shaking with laughter. Their teasing rung louder than the music blasting in my ears.

“Here you go!” I lifted my head up when the voice called out in a singsong tone. Finally! My mouth watered as the young lady handed me the iced latte, and I almost drooled at the sight of extra whip cream. Heaven.

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat and sent her a grateful smile. God bless your soul, woman.

I swiveled around while simultaneously putting the straw into my mouth. But I never got the chance to take the first sip of my heavenly goodness. Nope. My happiness only lasted for two seconds flat.

Before I knew what was happening, a rock-hard wall bumped into me. I heard someone swear under his breath. It happened fast, too quickly for me to catch on until it was too late. The world spun and tilted on its axis. My eyes closed as I expected the impact of me hitting the floor, but my face didn’t kiss the ground. I stayed suspended in the air, my body bent backward.

Someone was holding onto my arm…really…really tightly. Two heartbeats later, I was back on my feet again. I finally opened my eyes, and a shaky breath expelled from my lungs.

The first thing I noticed was that his navy colored blazer was wet. My coffee… “Shit. Sorry. I am so sorry,” I muttered, absolutely horrified.

Then, I inwardly groaned. First – why was I apologizing? He bumped into me. His fault. Not mine. Second – My iced latte was gone.

My heart was still beating too fast and too hard after the little scare, and it felt like it would thump right out of my chest. Wait…

I looked down at myself and saw that my white shirt was soaked, and my pink bra was now quite visible to everyone. Oh, that was where my iced latte went. Amaaaazing.

Mood level: Extra grumpy with just a touch of bitchiness.

I let my eyes travel the length of the wall that bumped into me. Okay, not a wall then. He was definitely human. But a rock nonetheless. I had felt those hard muscles when he knocked me over. It was like a truck hitting me, and I swore he must have given me a concussion from that whiplash.

My gaze went up and up…and up. Jesus Christ, he was tall. I was basically a midget next to him at five foot two inches.

My eyes stayed longer on his stomach, and for a brief moment, I wondered if he had six-pack abs. His wide chest caught my attention next. He was tall and lean, but still muscular and a bit bigger for his age. I could instantly tell he played football – his strong arms and muscular shoulders told me so, and he had a gym/sports bag thrown over his right shoulder. His school blazer molded to his upper body perfectly. Deliciously.

Sweet Mother Mary… I was supposed to be angry, right?

When my gaze finally landed on his face, my eyes decided they’d been blessed. A classic gorgeous boy. Chiseled jawline that could give you a papercut if you touched it? Check. Piercing eyes? Check. Thick eyebrows? Check. Plump lips made for kissing? Check. Intense good looks? Double check. He was a fine specimen, and I wanted to put him under my microscope for a closer look.

His dirty blond hair was curly and the tight curls ended a good inch or two above his shoulders. It gave him a surfer look, a bit wild and outgoing.

Wait. Hold up.

I stumbled a step back and took a good look at his face. My lips parted, completely dumbstruck, and I choked on my saliva silently. Are you kidding me?

Out of everyone… out of 325 boys at Berkshire, I had to bump into HIM?

He eyed me up and down, his gaze scanning my body leisurely like I had done to him. My cheeks flamed, not because he was checking me out – no, because he had obviously caught me checking him out. Could this day get any worse?

He cocked his head to the side, his deep blue eyes flashing with mischief. His eyes caressed my bare legs and then he followed the path up. My beige school skirt came to mid-thigh, only a few inches above my knees. He seemed to take great pleasure in watching my bare skin.

Slowly, his gaze moved up. Mister-Who-Bumped-Into-Me blatantly stared at my boobs. For fuck’s sake, he was so goddamn obvious. The corner of his lips tilted up, and he gave me the perfect swoon worthy smirk.

He chuckled, a deep laugh that came out roughly from within his chest. “Well, I guess that’ll perk them up a little.”

Huh?

His buddies snickered and chortled with laughter. Cole Bennett, one of the twins, even doubled over and wheezed like he had just heard the best joke of the century.

I followed his gaze to my chest and then I looked back at him. Wait…was he…did he…just…?

My body tensed, and I straightened my spine. “Excuse me?”

My brain had finally caught on, and I could feel the steam coming out of my ears. How dare he!

I crossed my arms over my chest, my cheeks burning hot, and I held back an irritated growl. Yes, my boobs were petite. The two mounds were almost non-existent compared to the other girls my age, and they basically stopped growing when I was fourteen.

But. He. Did. Not. Have. To. Rub. That. In. My. Face.

Oh wait, I forgot. He was an asshole. The asshole.

Maddox Coulter.

Berkshire Academy’s Star Quarterback.

Reckless bad boy. Infamous playboy.

The Casanova of the senior class and its golden boy.

And yes, a Class-A jerk, with unparalleled levels of douchebaggery.

Maddox was well-known in Berkshire. His face was catalogued into everyone’s brain and heart, and I wanted nothing to do with him. Except, out of 325 boys in our school, I had to bump into him today.

He was still smirking, and I let out an irritated sigh. “Are you going to apologize to me or not? You bumped into me,” I seethed, shoving my empty cup between us.

His dark blue eyes narrowed on my boobs again. Apparently, Mr. Coulter had a short attention span because he chose to ignore my words and decided to focus on my tits instead. The same tits he just insulted.

I crossed my arms over my chest again and glowered at him and his buddies. His gaze finally met mine, and I hated that he had such beautiful eyes. He didn’t deserve them.

Maddox shrugged, quite nonchalantly. “You were in my way. Whoops.”

Is he serious?

He took a step forward, his bigger body closing in on my small frame. “I have an extra shirt in my locker. I’ll give it to you, considering the one you’re wearing is soaked.”

His voice lowered into a raspy tone when he spoke his next words. “But one condition. If I give you my shirt, I get to keep your bra. It’s cute. I love the little flowers on them, baby.”

I stumbled back, aghast. I knew he was immature, rude, and vulgar, but this was a whole other level of douchebaggery. Murder is a crime, Lila. You could go to prison for a very long time.

My eyes narrowed on him. “You know what? I don't have time for this. Go take your shitty attitude and try to impress another girl with it.”

Maddox blinked, his goofy smile disappearing for a nanosecond, before his eyes lit up, almost as if he loved me rebuffing him.

I swiveled around, dumped my empty coffee cup into the garbage, and decided to walk away from Maddox. Too bad he was standing in my way, refusing to budge. I inwardly rolled my eyes and pushed past him. He was standing so close that I was forced to touch him, our bodies slightly rubbing against each other as I went by. A cocky smirk was plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

Fine. He wanted to play… then I’d play.

After taking two steps forward, I did a little side twist, which allowed my bag to hit him. Bullseye. When I heard a hiss of pain, I knew that the corner of my bag had bumped into his crotch, and his dick probably felt the impact, too.

I turned my head and gave Maddox a look over my shoulder. He had doubled over and was cupping himself between the legs. “You were in my way. Whoops,” I said lazily, repeating his earlier words.

My middle name is ‘Petty Bitch.’ I didn’t have time for a reckless bad boy, but I also wouldn’t let him play me like his other fangirls.

His ocean blue eyes locked on mine, and they darkened the slightest bit. Maddox straightened his spine and stood at his full height again. He was imposing, his presence almost owning the whole coffee shop. I sent him a sugary sweet smile before walking away.

If I didn’t leave this coffee shop in one minute, I was going to be late for my English class.

The intensity of his gaze burned into my back. I could feel the heat of it, of him. My cheeks flamed, and my body grew warmer. I knew he was looking at my ass. I could feel it.

Maddox Coulter was officially on my shit list.