A Deal With The College Playboy

9. Truth or Dare

ELLIE

By the time I walked up to Beck's front door, I'd already rehearsed at least seventeen possible scenarios in my head. Half of them involved him answering the door shirtless, and the other half ended with me fainting like some Victorian damsel because, well... who wouldn’t faint if she saw Beck Ryder shirtless?

Instead, what I got was the sound of very loud cussing followed by the sound of something slamming against the couch.

“You f*****g cheat!” Tyler roared. “I knew you were hacking somehow. I just didn’t know how.”

“How the hell am I cheating?” Beck’s voice replied just as loudly. “I’m playing legit, bro.”

“Shut the f**k up!” Tyler snapped. “I know for a fact that you’re doing something illegal. How did you get so good so fast?”

I pushed the door open, and I wasn’t surprised to find that it wasn’t locked, because apparently the Ryder household doesn't believe in locked doors. I found Beck and Tyler on the couch, screaming at each other over Mortal Kombat, of all things. Tyler was yelling about Beck using cheap combos to win, while Beck had this smug little grin plastered on his face like he'd just found a hundred dollar bill in his pocket.

The second he spotted me standing there however, Beck’s grin grew even wider, and despite myself, I felt a little lighter in my chest. He seemed genuinely excited to see me, and I could have juts stood there and soaked in the warmth of his gaze.

"Buzzkill!" he said happily, like it was the best surprise of his life. Then, without hesitation he shoved Tyler hard enough that the poor guy almost fell off the couch. "Get your ass out of here. My lab partner is here."

Tyler scowled, saying, "Dude, what the hell? I was about to…"

"Do I look like I give a f**k?" Beck said as he dragged him up by the arm and shoved him toward the door. “Get the f**k out of my house.”

Tyler groaned dramatically, like he was being sent into exile as he said, "You're ditching your boy for a girl? That’s weak, man. Shame on you."

He paused as Beck dragged him past me, and his scowl turned into a small smile as he said, “Hi Ellie.”

“Hi Tyler,” I replied. “Nice to see you.”

But Beck was already closing the door on his face, muttering, "Get lost."

And then it was just the two of us.

He turned around slowly, grinning at me like nothing happened as he said, "Sorry about him. He's a sore loser."

I raised an eyebrow. "You basically threw him out like yesterday's trash."

"Exactly,” he chuckled. “He was starting to stink up the place anyway."

I couldn't help but laugh, and damn it, I hated that he made me laugh so easily. He was like a thorn in my side, because my usual defenses didn’t work against him. In fact, he seemed to thrive on this dynamic in our relationship. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out if I liked that or not.

“So, let’s get started,” he said. “Mr Richard said we need to hand in our report by Friday, so I think we should go through the materials first then decide which parts we should take.”

“Right,” I said. “I brought textbooks.”

“And I have sticky notes,” he said, pulling them out of the drawer and waving them in front of me. “Let’s get started.”

We ended up on the couch soon after, with the textbooks spread out across the coffee table, and him slouched upside down like he owned the place (which, okay, he kinda did) and me sitting upright like the nerd I was pretending not to be. I tried really hard to focus on the highlighted notes, but it was impossible when he was right there, stretched out in a loose t-shirt that clung in all the right places.

And don't even get me started on his v-taper. You know, that whole broad shoulders and narrow waist situation that’s only bestowed upon the men who are "genetically blessed"? Yeah, my brain was stuck there on a loop, like a thirsty little i***t. Every time he leaned forward, his shirt would fall down a little bit more, and I was one second away from leaning forward and licking his abs.

"Ellie," he said suddenly, causing me to flinch.

"What?" I asked way too quickly, trying to snap out of my trance.

"You've been staring at the same diagram for ten minutes,” he said. “Either you've memorized the entire circulatory system, or you're zoning out."

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole, but I rolled my eyes and said, "Shut up. I'm focusing."

"On what, exactly?" he smirked.

"You don't want to know," I muttered under my breath.

He tilted his head slightly and asked, "What was that?"

"Nothing,” I replied. “Let’s move on."

By the time we'd gone through two chapters, I was ready to bash my head into the table. I don't know if it was the human anatomy overload or the fact that Beck kept brushing against me every time he reached for his pen, but I was done. Thankfully, he looked just as fed up.

"Alright," he said, dropping his pencil dramatically. "I'm calling it. No more arteries, no more veins, no more femurs. My brain's fried."

"Shocking," I said. "You lasted longer than I thought."

"Not the first time I’ve heard that," he chuckled, then he sat upright once again and said, "Your faith in me is inspiring."

"Glad to be of service,” I replied, tipping my imaginary hat to him.

What the hell was wrong with me? Was I actually flirting with Beck Ryder of all people? How did that happen? The guy was a jackass. I knew that better than anyone else. So why was I falling for his charm? Why was I smiling like a stoner? And why on earth did I feel this overwhelming urge to jump onto his laps and kiss him?

‘Snap out of it, Ellie! You’re just horny! You just want s*x! Raw, steamy, animalistic sex.’

That didn’t help matters at all, so I shook my head and tried to focus on anything else.

Instead of going back to the books, Beck grabbed his phone and ordered some pizza for both of us, then he leaned back, stretching until his shirt rode up just enough to flash a line of his toned stomach. I swear my soul left my body for a solid three seconds.

"So, Buzzkill," he said casually, "tell me about yourself. You know everything about me already. You already know I’m a party boy, tragically handsome, and the future president of the United States. But I barely know anything about you."

I rolled my eyes as I looked up at him. "Tragically handsome? You did not just call yourself that."

"I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking,” he replied with a smirk.

"You're unbelievable, Beck Ryder,” I said. “Your cockiness knows no bounds.”

"And you're deflecting,” he said. “Come on, Buzzkill. Tell me something real about you."

I sighed, chewing on my bottom lip as I tried to think. I hated talking about myself, especially the sad stuff. But he was looking at me like he actually wanted to know, and not like he was just killing time until the pizza arrived. So, against my better judgment, I started talking.

“Well, I was born in Ohio,” I said. “I grew up there pretty much, but then my parents died in a car crash. So now it's just me and my aunt."

The smile on his face vanished immediately, replaced with a solemn look as he said, "s**t. I'm sorry."

I shrugged, trying to play it off even though it stung to say it out loud. "It's whatever,” I said. “I mean, it sucks sometimes. Especially when everyone else around me has their perfect little families. But... I'm used to it."

For a second, he didn't say anything. And I panicked, because silence meant he was pitying me, and I hated pity more than anything. But then he shifted closer, and he nudged me lightly with his knee.

“It really sucks,” he said. “But hey, us orphans need to stick together and have each other’s backs.”

I smiled at him, realizing we had something in common. Both of us had been orphaned, although his parents died much later than me. It was a touching realization, and it made me look at him like an actual human being, and not just the party boy who always found a way to piss me off.

“Hey, let’s play a game," he said suddenly, and I blinked at him.

"A game?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah,” he said. “Truth or dare. It's either that or you sit here and get sad on me, and that's not happening."

I glared at him, and said, "Truth or dare? What are we, twelve?"

"Exactly,” he said. “Let’s pretend we’re kids for once. Death is such an adult thing to think about. I don’t want to dwell on it too much.”

“Fine,” I snorted. "But if this turns into some cliché setup, I'm breaking your finger."

"Deal,” he said with a grin. “I'll go first. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I said quickly.

"Boring," he teased. Then he thought for a second, and finally he said, "Okay... is it true you've hated me since freshman year?"

My cheeks turned red instantly, and I looked away as I said, “Next question please."

"That wasn't a denial,” he said, tilting his head.

“Shut up,” I laughed, turning away from him.

He just laughed, looking way too pleased with himself as he said, "Hurtful. Anyway, it’s your turn."

"Fine,” I said. “Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he said instantly, like he'd been waiting for it.

And just like that, my brain betrayed me. A million inappropriate dares flew through my mind:

“Touch me here.”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Let me sit in your lap.”

But I swallowed them all down, because I wasn’t about to humiliate myself. So I played it safe, and I said, "I dare you to... text Tyler and tell him you love him."

He stared at me for a few silent seconds, then he said, "Is that the best you've got?"

"Yes,” I said. “Now do it."

With a dramatic groan, he pulled out his phone and actually did it. A second later, Tyler responded with about seventeen heart emojis. Beck shook his head, saying, "You're the worst."

"Thank you," I said sweetly.

Then it was his turn again. He leaned back, his eyes sparkling like he was plotting my downfall as he said, "Truth or dare, Ellie?"

I swallowed nervously and said, "Dare."

His smirk deepened, and I instantly regretted it as he said, "Alright then. I dare you..." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flip "...to kiss me."

And just like that, the air froze. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might break free, and I forgot how to breathe as I looked into his eyes.

And all I could think was: well, f**k.