2

Blair

Age 14

"Truth or dare," Mackenzie prompts.

I sigh. It’s Mackenzie, Abby, Leigh, and me, all sprawled out on the parched brown grass after school. Part of me wishes I were at the ballet studio right now instead, but it’s hard to say no when my friends drag me along.

Hanging out after school these days always seems to descend into games of truth or dare.

I’m not good at truth or dare.

Leigh nudges me. "Blair, it’s your turn."

“So, truth again?” Mackenzie rolls her eyes, already smirking. She’s what you’d call the Queen Bee, quick to flash her crown and quicker to remind the rest of us where we rank. I usually go along with it—it’s easier that way. But the gleam in her eye tells me she won’t let me off easily.

Abby giggles next to her.

I blink, confused. “I didn’t pick yet.”

Mackenzie flips her blond plait from one shoulder to the other and laughs. There’s the slightest mean edge to the sound, but I ignore it. “Come on, Blair. You pick truth every single time.”

“What? No I don’t—”

I try to deny it, but the other girls drown me out.

“Every single time!”

So maybe they’re right. I’m not exactly a risk taker. I have the things I like: my friends, getting good grades, ballet. I ignore the other parts of me.

The parts that definitely don’t belong inside of a good girl.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll pick dare.”

Mackenzie’s smirk widens. But before she can concoct my dare, her eyes flick past my shoulder.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “What the hell is that guy doing?”

We all turn. Across the park, a boy clings to a massive tree, swinging himself upward with effortless strength as he scales its rough surface. He’s moving with the ease of someone born for rebellion.

“Who is that?” I breathe.

“Oh my god, I know him,” Abby replies. “Asher Stone. I went to school with him before I transferred. He goes to Bishops now, I think.”

Bishops Public High School: our neighboring alternate universe. We attend Huntington Prep, the area’s elite private school, and Bishops kids are the unfiltered contrast. Needless to say, there’s tension between the two schools.

“Asher Stone,” I repeat, testing how the name feels on my tongue. The sensation makes my heart flutter, but I don’t let myself ask why.

“What a fucking freak,” Mackenzie laughs. She’s just discovered curse words and is quickly wearing them out.

I hold my tongue. I don’t like being mean to people. But as Mackenzie always reminds us, we’re the popular girls. Most hangouts seem to revolve around discussing the pecking order of our school: who’s climbing the ladder, who’s tragically slipping down the rungs.

It’s all I hear at home, too. The grown-up Mom and Dad version of it, I mean. Which family missed Church on Sunday. Whose kids got caught drinking.

The others chime in with their stories—he’s a druggie, a burnout, dangerous, he killed his parents. I join in the laughter, though I don’t understand the joke.

But I can’t tear my eyes off him.

Even from this distance, he’s… different . Taller than most boys in our grade, lean and tan, with dark hair falling across his face as he hangs from the tree. His profile is lit up in the light of the setting sun. When he swings up into a higher branch, muscles tensing, my stomach flips like I’m on a rollercoaster.

“Oh my god,” Mackenzie laughs again. “Blair is totally staring at him.”

“What? We’re all staring,” I retort, feeling my cheeks flush.

“I’ve decided on your dare,” Mackenzie says. “I dare you to go talk to Asher Stone.”

My pulse spikes, a strange mix of dread and excitement filling me. But if I back down, Mackenzie will never let me forget it.

“Oh my god,” Leigh gasps. “But he could be totally dangerous. He could be a psychopath serial killer.”

We all just watched Friday the 13th for the first time last weekend at Mackenzie’s house, and we’re obsessed with the fear that Jason is around every corner.

“I accept,” I say, ignoring Leigh’s warning and rising to my feet before I lose my nerve.

Mackenzie frowns. She was expecting me to back down. But in a way, I'm relieved that this was the dare. Because I think even if it wasn’t, I’d still be standing up, dusting off my skirt, and walking toward Asher.

As I cross the park, my nerves pulse harder with each step. He’s dropped down from where he was climbing and, as if he can feel my approach, he turns to face me.

They say Asher is a druggie, a freak, a psycho. What they didn’t tell me is that… Asher is beautiful .

I’m close enough now to see his black t-shirt with some scary looking band logo on it that I’ve never heard of. With the pink bows in my hair and my neatly pressed uniform, I must look like I’m from a different planet.

For a second, we stare at each other in silence.

He scans me from head to toe, his lips tugging into a smirk. “You sure you got enough bows?”

I purse my lips, automatically reaching to adjust the giant pink ribbon on top of my head. A blush spots my cheeks, and he laughs. I can see from this close that his dark eyes have just the tiniest hint of green around the irises.

The warmth of his laughter drains from his eyes. “So? What the hell do you want?”

“Just… saying hi,” I manage.

His gaze slides over my shoulder back to where the other girls are sitting. “Your friends over there sent you to talk to me, right?”

I twist my hands. I have good posture, drilled into me by years of ballet, but I suddenly feel like making myself small and hiding away.

“Don’t be scared,” he says. “You can tell me.”

“We’re playing truth or dare,” I admit.

He pauses for a moment, inspecting me. “Guess I’m the dare, huh?”

I can’t deny it, so I nod. “My friend dared me to come talk to you. She says I pick ‘truth’ too much.”

“Figures.” He laughs, low and sharp. “So, what have you heard about me?”

“Nothing,” I lie, too quickly.

“Nothing? Then why’d they send you over?” He raises a brow. “Try again.”

“Well, okay. Fine. I’ve heard some things.”

“Like?”

My words come out in a stupid rush. “They say you’re dangerous. That you…do drugs and, uh…killed your parents.”

Asher stares for a moment, then breaks into a raucous laugh, the sound cutting through the evening air. “You believe all that?”

His reply isn’t a denial. I hesitate, then shake my head. “I don’t believe most of the gossip my friends tell me.”

“Good. Because most people don’t know shit about anything.” He pauses, studying me. “I’ve heard a few things about you too.”

What would Asher know about me?

“You… you have?”

“You’re one of those Huntington Prep School princesses. Rich parents. Daddy’s girl. You do some bullshit expensive sport in your free time.”

“Ballet is not a bull-” My voice fades as I avoid the curse word, and I suddenly feel baby-ish. “Ballet is a real sport.”

He smirks. “Truth is, I don’t know who you are. But I know your type.”

I pout. “We’re not all like that.”

“No. Course not. You’re the kind who likes dares.”

“What are you doing up here?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.

“Life is fucking boring without a little danger.” He pauses, like he’s thinking something over. “What’s your name?”

“Blair. Blair Bennett.”

He smirks. “Well, Blair Bennett, I’m Asher Stone. But I think you already knew that.”

I shrug ruefully. “I should get back to my friends, I guess…”

“See you around, Blair. Unless…” He jerks to head up toward the tree. “Want to join me? Everything looks better from up in the air.”

I can feel my friends watching from across the park, their expectant gazes boring into me. This should be my cue to turn back, to laugh off the dare and go join them. But instead, I stand there, caught in the quiet crackling tension between us.

“Aren’t your parents wondering where you are?” I ask, avoiding his question.

“No. I killed them, remember?” Asher deadpans.

My stomach drops for a second before I realize Asher is messing with me.

“Couldn’t resist,” he grins. “If you really want to know, I live with my grandma. My dad left and my mom killed herself. She was sick. In the mind, I mean. Guess you could call me an orphan.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ve never met an orphan before.”

“Yeah, I heard the only thing people die from in your kind of neighborhood is botched face lifts.”

My lips reluctantly tug up at his snide comment. “That, or tanning bed accidents.”

He smirks back at me. It feels good, making this scary boy smile.

“Well, yes or no? If Mommy and Daddy are worried, you should probably just run on home.”

It’s a reckless suggestion. My brain says no, but my heart leaps at the idea. Glancing back at my friends one last time, I take a step closer to the tree, gripping the lowest branch.

Asher grins. “Okay, Princess Blair. Hold on tight and follow my lead.”

He effortlessly scales up the first few branches. I begin to climb after him, the thrill of something unknown pulling me forward.

The hem of my skirt catches on the bark, tearing slightly. “Sugar,” I mutter.

Asher laughs. “Did you just say sugar ? Your parents aren’t here, princess. You’re allowed to say bad words.”

I blush. “Force of habit, I guess.”

“Even when you try to curse, it comes out sweet.”

My blush deepens. We keep climbing.

“Not so tough, right?” he says.

I nod. He’s right. We’re probably only twenty feet off the ground, but the view of the city at sunset is so much better from up here.

“Blair!” Mackenzie’s voice pierces the air, irritated and sharp. I glance back, distracted, and my foot slips. My hand shoots out, but the branch is just out of reach. I feel a rush of terror—

Then, strong fingers grip my wrist. I know I’m supposed to be falling and hitting the ground beneath me. But I’m not.

I hear Asher’s voice. “Got you, princess.”

I blink up to see Asher holding me steady, his face unreadable but intense.

That’s the first time I ever touch Asher Stone.

A rush of relief—and something warmer—spreads through me as he pulls me back onto the branch. Adrenaline buzzes in the tips of my fingers. I hear a sound in the quiet, summer evening air and I realize I’m laughing. The feeling wracks my body. The kind of joy that spills out of you in uncontrollable laughter. I don’t even remember the last time I felt that. Maybe it’s the first time.

I cling to Asher’s shoulders. A strange flutter is humming in my stomach.

“That was fun,” I pant. “Can we do it again?”

Asher smiles at me. It’s dark and crooked and burns just like the sun. It strikes terror and joy in my heart.

That’s when I know.

We’re going to do it again and again and again.