Dare Me (Dare Me Series Book 1)

Dare Me (Part 30 - Alexis)

The air conditioner kicks on in our apartment as Claire and I lie on the couch together. She's fast asleep, and my mind is keeping me from it. I stare up at the rotating ceiling fan, thinking about today. First, Karen tells me she's selling my second home, and then Mark comes in, but the thing that threw me the most was Colby. God. I exhale and wipe a hand over my face, turning on my side as anxiety fills my chest.The way he held me as people passed us and cars flew down the street as if it was just another day. But it wasn't. Not for me anyway. Colby Brock was holding me. And not like at the club that night when we were dancing or in the bed when he pulled me closer to him. This was more. This was him being there in a way no one else has. My phone lights up the coffee table, and I reach over and grab it My eyes scan the words. I wanna see you. My heart kicks up, ricocheting against my rib cage as I bite the inside of my cheek. I dart my eyes down at Claire before I carefully remove the throw from my legs and stand. Softly padding my way to my room, I click the door shut, looking down at my screen as I text back. Right now? He doesn't respond, and I put my phone down and grab my lotion bottle from beside the bed. I've already rubbed my feet, legs, and hands by the time my phone vibrates. I quickly pick it up, but it slips out of my hand and hits the floor. "Shit." I speedily rub the rest of the lotion onto my arms and lift my phone from the floor. Yeah. Fine. I'll be waiting. I plug my phone up and throw off my T-shirt. Not knowing when he'll be here, I hurry and get dressed. Over thirty minutes later, I'm sitting out on the fire escape with a glass of wine looking at my freshly painted toes on the rail. I reach up and pick some polish off that got on my skin when my phone dings. I look at the screen and see he's here. I stand and take a gulp of wine as I step through my window. I don't know why I was even out there. It's hot as hell. "What's going on?" Claire says from her sleeping spot. Her hair is all over her head as she rubs her eyes. "I'm going out with Colby for a while. Why don't you go to bed?" She moves her hair from her face. "Good idea. Be safe." She stands and yawns, tossing the throw onto the back of the couch. "I will." I open the door and hide my grin behind my wine glass. Good God, this man. He wears black button down, with a tie that's been pulled loose from his neck. His hands are in his pockets, and even though I can see a tiredness in his eyes, he looks as handsome as ever. "Hey," he says, his voice a rough whisper, like he hasn't spoken all day. "Hey," I reply hesitantly because his mood is far from chipper. "You ready?" "Yeah. One second." I take another sip of wine before I put the glass down on the counter and grab my purse. Shutting the door behind me, I follow in step with him as we walk to the elevator. He's quiet Colby tonight. "It's late," I say, looking over at his weary profile. His brow lifts. "Yeah," he agrees. He reaches out and presses the button. His hands go back into his slacks, and there's a deep crease in his forehead as he looks down. "Everything okay?" I cross my arms and study his closed-off demeanor. He looks over at me, blue eyes locked tight, showing no emotion. "It's been a rough day." "Yeah," I agree soundlessly as the doors open and we step through. I know my day wasn't the greatest, but I wonder why his was bad. "Wanna tell me about it?" I ask, looking up at him. The elevator descends, and he watches the numbers above the doors. "Just let me sit on it for a little bit." "Okay," I reply. He's hurting, and I'd like to know why, but if I've learned anything from my own shit, it's that sometimes you just don't want to talk about it. And that's okay. For now. He opens the door for me when we reach his car, and I give him a glance. "Where are we going?" I ask, placing my hand on the frame. He studies my face before he answers. "Just a place I used to go to think. Can I take you there?" he asks in a slow tone. Normally, he wouldn't ask me, but bossy Colby isn't with us tonight. His face is pale, and his eyes are tired with a gloss and a red rim. Without thought, I reach and place my hand on his cheek. He stiffens, but then his chest deflates. It's as though he's letting go of something he's been holding on to for a very long time. He shuts his eyes for a moment before touching my hand and gripping it in his. He moves it so it's resting against his lips. My heart breaks for the pain that's inside of him, and when he opens his eyes, I see it in raw form. I look between his eyes and feel my chest tighten as I reply softly, "Yeah. That's all right." Traffic isn't light, and I get surprised when Colby turns into a parking garage. He drives us up, shifting gears and pressing the clutch until we're on the highest deck, and then he parks the car before reaching in the back. "Come on," he says. I narrow my eyes skeptically but open the door. He walks us toward an elevator with a blanket in his hand. We climb in, and he presses a button. "What's with the blanket?" I ask. "You'll see." He looks ahead when the doors reopen. My eyes blink as I take in the city of Los Angeles. The enormous Ferris wheel is at eye level now and buildings with fog at the top surround us. The city lights look blurred from thick low clouds passing in front of them, and somehow, I feel weightless. Like all the crap that's been following me my whole life doesn't matter up here. No one can see me, and no one can touch me. It's liberating. "How did you find out about this place?" I ask. "Just kinda stumbled upon it some years back. When I first moved to the city, I'd come up here and think. I like the idea of being away from all the bullshit, ya know?" I glance at him. How alike are we? "Yeah," I agree. We climb up a few steps that have seen better days. "Careful." He grabs my hand. The act is simple, but it does all kinds of things to my insides. We're up higher now on a platform. Colby drops my hand and places the blanket down. He bends his knees, placing his hand on the blanket as he sits. He lies down on his back, crossing his ankles before resting his hands behind his head. I look down at him with a smirk, and he pats the empty space beside him. "Lie down," he says. I shake my head and do what he did. I stare up at the lit sky. Not a single star is in sight because of the light pollution, but it's calming watching the fog shift with the wind. Colby keeps still, not saying anything, but the fact that we can lie together in silence speaks volumes. To be quietly content around a person is a rarity, and I'm happy he's the person I can do this with. After minutes of silence between us, he says, "Can I tell you something?" I look over at him. "Of course." He goes still as if he isn't sure about telling me after all. I watch his profile. Strong jawline, a neck I'd love to kiss, and buzzed hair. His eyes travel across hidden stars as his jaw clenches. "My mom was beat up tonight." My eyes shoot to his. "Oh my God. Is she okay?" "Yeah, well... she will be," he says. His Adam's apple moves when he swallows. My heart melts at how worried his expression is. I don't know a thing about their relationship, but from the deep crease in his forehead and hardness in his face, it seems he cares, unlike how I feel about my own mother. He looks over at me, his eyes skimming across my face before he points them back up at the moving clouds as though he can see the past. "My mom used to be a good person," he says, his voice rough and low. "She would put a pallet down for me when I was a boy, and I'd watch cartoons while she cleaned the house. I was only five, but I remember her true self." "Her true self?" I ask. He keeps his eyes glued on the city lit sky. "She got pregnant with a girl." "I didn't know you had a sister." He exhales sadly. "She died at childbirth." "Oh." "The good in Mom died that day, too. She couldn't handle it and started disappearing. Dad would have to go find her and leaving Gage to care for me. He was just kid but he took care of me until my mom straightened out." Holy crap. I can't believe he's telling me all of this. "What happened at thirteen?" I ask, hoping he'll continue. "My life changed forever. I went from being a poor kid, to a rich kid with a bad attitude, hell-bent on destroying myself and everyone around me." "What changed?" He looks back at me. "Changed?" "Well, you've obviously done well for yourself. Someone who only wants to destroy things wouldn't have the time or care to accomplish what you've achieved." "Sometimes I think I'm just trying to cover up who I really am." My mouth goes slack, and I blink at his honesty, knowing exactly how he feels. When I left that little house of nightmares, I had one thing in mind—forget about this place and the sad girl who used to live here. I don't think I've done well at either. Sure, I've worked hard trying to ensure I'd have a nice future, but I've never forgotten that house and the memories of what happened there. The feeling of being invisible even when I was never alone isn't something I can disregard no matter the years that have passed. I stare into his mysterious blues. "And who are you really, Colby?" I swallow, waiting for him to tell me. He exhales wistfully, looking past me as his icy eyes narrow, and just like the sun shined upon them itself, they melt before me, exposing the truth he's been hiding. "A lost soul," he murmurs. I look away from damaged and troubled. Something feels different between us at this moment. It's like there's no barrier. No gigantic glass wall we're hiding behind to keep the other out. It frightens me, but also thrills me that he is sharing all of this. I just hope he doesn't expect me to start rambling about my own baggage.