Double Dare Page 4

As it was, she’d barely managed to break away from him before he asked, “Don’t you want to hear your dare?”

“No!” she yelled over her shoulder as she darted off towards the right, hoping the dense woods would provide her with some sort of protection, but thanks to her lack of athletic ability and a thick root sticking out of the ground, she didn’t make it very far before he turned his dare into a double dare that ended with her spending the next six months sentenced to doing grunt work for Uncle Jared and cursing the day that she’d heard the phrase, “Double Dare.”

Fenway Park

Boston, MA

2009

Age 23

“Looks like Trevor’s getting arrested.”

“Uh huh, that’s nice,” she said, not bothering to look up from the iPad mini that she felt was rightfully hers now.

“Marybeth-” the betraying bastard once again started with his bullshit apology, but she knew the tone that he was using a little too well.

“It’s not going to work,” she said, absently swiping her finger over the iPad’s screen, sighing heavily when the new page didn’t look any more promising than the last one had.

“But, I’m really sorry,” Darrin, the bastard that she couldn’t seem to shake, said, sounding like he was pouting, which he most likely was since his charming tone hadn’t worked on her.

“Rot in hell, you selfish bastard,” she said, trying not to cringe when she saw the asking price for a basic one bedroom apartment on Royal Ave, which wasn’t exactly encouraging since Royal Ave was located in one of the worst parts of the city.

“I can’t believe that you’re still mad,” the asshole muttered, grabbing her beer and finishing it off.

“Believe it, you male whore,” she muttered, once again swiping, cringing, and swiping again.

“But, she attacked me!” Darrin said with the typical Bradford arrogance and drama that she was, unfortunately, used to.

“Uh huh, that’s nice,” she said, wondering if she should look for a new roommate only to dismiss the idea seconds later. There was no way that she was going to be able to go through that again, not unless she cut the jerk stealing her hotdog out of her life and after all the years of bullshit that he’d put her through, she just couldn’t do it. She’d put too much time in training this one and at her age, she really didn’t like the idea of breaking in a new best friend.

“What if I told you that I could make it up to you?” Darrin asked, putting his arm around the back of her seat so that he could lean in next to her and look at the screen.

“I’d call you a lying bastard,” she said, not bothering to shove him away since it wouldn’t do any good. The bastard simply didn’t understand the concept of personal space, at least not where she was concerned.

He’d always been that way. When they were kids he’d grab her by the hand and drag her everywhere, demand to sit next to her at lunch or in class, and he always had his arm thrown around her, always. If he’d been any other guy, she probably would have shoved him away or kicked him in the balls, but….

It was Darrin, her best friend. Besides, by this point she barely noticed it anymore. She did notice when the women that he was dating took exception to it, mostly because they got all bitchy and pissy and thought to try to lay claim to Darrin and shove her out of the picture. It never worked, but she did appreciate the entertainment. She was a permanent fixture in his life and if a woman couldn’t accept that, Darrin dropped her without a second thought.

She would like to say that it was the same way for her, but Darrin really didn’t give her a choice in the matter. If any guy that she was dating took offense to their friendship, Darrin, the asshole who was currently eating her chips, would take it upon himself to show the guy to the door. It still pissed her off when he did it, but at this point it just wasn’t worth bitching about, not when he did other things to piss her off, other things that caused her roommate to have a meltdown, had the swat team breaking down her door, her landlord getting a restraining order against her and forcing her to sleep on her brother’s ratty old sofa. With Darrin Bradford she’d learned a long time ago that she had to pick and choose her battles or deal with his glares and bitching.

“I was going to tell you that Trevor had a townhouse for rent, dirt cheap, but since you’re not interested…,” he let his words drift off, shrugging as he sat back in his chair.

She had to snort in disbelief, she really did. “You’re forgetting that he swore that he would never rent to either one of us again after what happened with that delivery kid from Papa Gino’s.”

She still hadn’t forgiven Darrin for that one either. Trevor had been the best landlord that she’d ever had. He wasn’t a jerk, never raised her rent, always took care of his properties and never rented to any assholes, well, any assholes that he wasn’t related to anyway. She missed her old apartment. It had been large, newly updated, weather proofed and most importantly, really cheap, but the bastard next to her had ruined it for her, because of a late night craving he’d had for Buffalo wings.

“He’s looking to sell it, because it’s not bringing in much money. He’s just looking for a tenant to stay there to make it look occupied. He said it’s harder to sell a place if it’s empty, because it looks less attractive to prospective buyers,” Darrin explained as he signaled to a vendor passing by their row.

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