Authors: Sloan Johnson
Truth or Dare
Truth or Dare by Sloan Johnson
Text copyright © 2014 by Sloan Johnson
This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.
All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design by
Cover Me, Darling
Lyrics to Best I Can by Art of Dying used with Permission.
Table of Contents
Dedication
This one is for Dan and Marty. You two may be gone from the Earth, but you’re still with all of us every day.
Chapter 1
The best vampire stories always mention something about the moment the vampire was turned. In their world, it’s the seconds when time when life ends and immortality begins. We don’t drink blood and quickly learned we are very much mortal. Beyond that, our lives aren’t that different from the creatures of myth.
Our lives are divided into the time before and the time after. While I remember that life before was dull and boring, I still can’t remember who brought me here or how I became one of them. One day, I was a social outcast in my little high school. After that, I was part of The Circle. What happened in between is a mystery. It’s like I wasn’t alive until that night. Sound dramatic? That’s nothing compared to life on the inside
Closing the cover of my leather-bound journal, I pull myself out of the comfy chair in the corner of my bedroom. Writing is my way of remembering this time my in my life because everyone swears they’ll fly by before I know it. I’ve toyed with the idea of trying to make sense of these snippets, but for now, they’re simply a way for me to put down whatever thoughts spring into my mind.
“CB, get your ass out here!” As much as I would love to sit here writing all night, I know Colby won’t allow it. More than once, he’s hidden my journals, reminding me that this is supposed to be a time to socialize, not a time to pull away from everyone who matters.
For the past four years, Colby and I have been nearly inseparable. He was one of the first people to accept me into the fold of our tight-knit group of friends, although I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why. Colby Davis could be considered cocky, if not for the fact that he’s so damn sweet. He’s good looking in a boy next door way. Nothing about him screams model, with his amber eyes and curly, dark blond hair that always looks like he’s overdue for a haircut. When you hear about someone being the total package, it’s him; looks, brains and personality in spades.
In contrast, I was “still coming into my own” as my mother always told me. What she called baby fat, my classmates called blubber. Mom refused to allow me to wear contacts because she was convinced I would suffer some sort of permanent injury to my vision, so I was stuck with my glasses. Cheap glasses which were a far cry from being stylish. And I don’t care how many times she said my hair was full of body, all I could see was a frizzy mess. The color was dull and lifeless, and I swore I was the only girl forbidden from coloring her hair.
Despite the red hot mess I was most days back then, Colby would rush up to the passenger side of my friend Amanda’s car and open the door as soon as she parked. We would walk around, most of the time in silence, paying careful attention to the huddled masses flooding the parking lot. He never pressured me to talk to anyone, but he refused to allow me to isolate myself either. After a few nights of acclimating myself to a new social circle, he took me by the hand for introductions. Seeing that Colby accepted me, they all welcomed me with open arms.
“You ready to head to the dead end?” he asks, tossing a toned arm over my shoulder. I lean into the warmth of his body, subtly inhaling his spicy cologne as we walk down the hall of our apartment building. If he realized that I do this every time he walks past, I have no doubt he would give me a hard time about it. It would be my own fault too, because what kind of grown woman has a borderline obsession with her best friend and roommate? A desperate one who would rather be alone than think about being with anyone else, that’s who.
“Do I have a choice?” I quip, trying to come across as bored and disinterested. Now that we’re older, we don’t spend as many nights as we used to lining both sides of a dead end road on the edge of town. It’s quite possibly one of the few areas of the city that has remained undeveloped over the years and has been a suitable place for us to gather after the park closes. When I’m feeling nostalgic, I long for those hot summer nights, running up and down the road from one group to the next. Under a canopy of stars with the city skyline off in the distance, I experienced true freedom for the first time.
“Nope, now get your ass in the car,” Colby demands, landing a sharp swat on my ass cheek. After closing my door, he slides across the hood of his early-eighties Cutlass like he’s some sort of action hero.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” I ask, knowing it’s unlikely that we’ll be staying long enough to see the sunrise the way we used to before we graduated from high school and started our adult lives. It’s more likely that we’ll head up there long enough to see if anyone who has moved away swings by so we can tell them where the party is.
Yes, it would be easier to let people know by text message or social media, but the awesome thing about the circle is you never know when someone who has seemingly dropped off the face of the earth will drop in unexpectedly. And now that we’re not on our parents’ cell phone plans, many of us have changed phone numbers. Or, in Colby’s case, the number changes every time he gets a new cell phone because he refuses to sign a contract with any company and goes with whatever pre-paid plan has the cheapest rates at the time.
“Head up to the dead end for a while,” Colby says, glancing over his shoulder before backing out of the parking stall. His car is a beast and it’s been hit more than once because people tend to sail through here like it’s the Indy 500. “Lippy’s having a party later if you want to swing by there, otherwise we can grab some coffee.”
Lippy isn’t her real name, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is. From what I’ve been told, she earned her nickname after mouthing off to the wrong person one too many times. I can probably count on one hand the number of people whose birth names I know after spending every night for over four years with them. Most people up here call me CB thanks to Colby. The night he found out my last name is Baker, he started calling me Cinnamon Bun as a joke. I was mortified when he would introduce me to others by my newly acquired nickname, but I didn’t dare call him on it. You see, he’s not at the very top of the food chain around here, but he’s damn close. Seeing as Cinnamon Bun is a mouthful, it was quickly shortened.
“Yeah, sounds good.” I stare out the window, wondering if it’s time for me to close this chapter in my life. In just a few weeks, I’ll be starting my junior year at Dalton College. Maybe it’s time to let go of the past and admit that I’m an adult with responsibilities now.
“You okay over there?” Colby asks, gently placing his hand on my knee. My heart no longer skips a beat at the gesture. Even the crooked grin he flashes me when I glance over at him doesn’t hold the same charm it once did. I may be head-over-heels in love with Colby Davis, but I’m not naïve enough to think that his feelings for me will suddenly change.
When he’s been drinking, he tells me how the best thing about me is that I’m one of the guys, but I have tits. I’m the buddy he relies on whenever he fucks up with a chick, which he does fairly often. He has always been oblivious to the sidelong glances and the way I’m willing to drop whatever I’m doing at a moment’s notice when he needs me. And because I would rather have his friendship than nothing at all, I never say a word about it.
“I’m fine,” I lie, wrapping my hand around his fingers. How does he not feel the spark I do every time we touch? “There’s so much for me to get done before classes start that it’s a bit overwhelming.”
Colby doesn’t understand the stress I’m under. He’s a free-spirit, taking on odd jobs as necessary to supplement his gigs. In all of the time I’ve known him, he’s never held a traditional job, but he’s always found a way to get by without resorting to anything illegal. When anyone tries to give him a hard time, he says that he can’t be weighed down by a nine-to-five in case Nashville comes calling. His voice is amazing and his fingers are like magic over the frets on his acoustic guitar, but soon he’s going to have to start working to make his dreams come true, otherwise Nashville will remain nothing but a pipedream.
“Lea, you can’t do this to yourself already.” I know he’s genuinely concerned about me because he’s using my real name now. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to be the first twenty-one year old I know to die of a heart attack. Promise me that you’ll at least try to have fun tonight?”
“I promise.” Lifting the armrest dividing our seats, I slide closer to him. To the outside world, we probably look like lovers with the way he holds me close while his left hand is draped over the top of the steering wheel, navigating his way through the city streets. “But you need to promise that we’re not staying out until sometime mid-morning tomorrow. My schedule’s all screwed up from this summer, and I need to flip it before classes start.”
“Deal.” While we wait for the stoplight to turn green, Colby places a chaste kiss on the crown of my head. He does this often, and every time, I fight the urge to look up at him when I feel his body start to move. Just once, I want to feel his lips against mine, to see if that would be enough for him to feel the current flowing between us.
**
Colby’s car is parked at the top of the dead end hill, just like every other night. To an outsider, it’s not much, but to us, it’s a subtle sign that there is a hierarchy, whether we’ll admit it or not. There were about fifteen cars lining the streets when we pulled up, but none of them would dare take his spot. It’s silly, but there are things you don’t question about life up here.
The cool evening breeze causes me to shiver as I lean against the windshield of the Cutlass, staring up at the stars. Earlier in the evening, it was about fifteen degrees warmer and the sun beating down after the rain made it nearly unbearable. Now, I’m regretting wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a tight tank top.
After spending so much time battling my weight, I take every opportunity I can to show off my figure without looking like a tramp. Unfortunately, that often leads to nights like tonight, when I’m freezing my ass off, waiting for Colby to finish talking to his girl-du-jour.
“Hey CB, you heading over to Lippy’s tonight?” Amanda hoists herself onto the hood of the Cutlass, leaning back next to me. She and I aren’t as close as we used to be, mostly because she says I’m holding on to something that was never mine to begin with. We’ve gotten closer again over the past year, ever since we were given our first reminder that life is too short to be petty.
“Yeah, if Casanova ever shuts up long enough to drive,” I grumble. She might not like what’s going on, between me and Colby, but Amanda will always be the one person who I can be open with about my feelings without having to worry that she’s going to go running back to him.
“That’s it, you’re coming with me!” Amanda jumps off the hood, reaching a hand out to pull me to the ground. “Tell Colby that we’re going for a drive and we’ll meet him there.”
Leaving Colby feels like leaving my other half. He’s not mine, but my heart feels the loss of him whenever we’re apart. Okay, that thought affirms for me that Amanda is right, it’s time for me to start figuring out how to live without Colby on my hip.
I make my way down the hill, the sound of Colby’s voice guiding me to him. Hearing the giggles of the vapid blonde hanging off his arm, I’m grateful for the cover of darkness. This way, I don’t have to worry about him seeing the dejected look on my face until I’m closer to him, and maybe by then I will be able to school my features a bit.