Truth or Dare
By Aimee McNeil
Truth or Dare
Copyright © 2015 by Aimee McNeil.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: October 2015
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-332-8
ISBN-10: 1-68058-332-8
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my husband, Ryan,
the man that owns my heart.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Chapter One
Sophie stared at the blank canvas in front of her, trying to still her shaking knee. She had been nervous when she arrived this morning. The impending art class had her anxious. It was to be her first nude model session. She had painted many people over her time as an artist, but this was the first time she would be staring at two naked people for a complete two-hour session, translating their exposed bodies onto her canvas with the experience of her hands—hands that currently moved restlessly over her supplies as the seconds ticked by. Everyone else in the class seemed to be in a state of boredom as they watched the clock on the wall.
The professor sat as his desk, loudly sipping his morning coffee. He kept checking his watch, and then confirming that the time correlated with the wall clock. “Hopefully it shouldn’t be too much longer,” he mumbled as his eyes traveled toward the door, his fingers tapping annoyingly on his desk. His round stomach threatened every button on his shirt as it stretched over his width. His hair was in desperate need of a trim and his beard was riddled with gray. Despite his unkempt appearance, he had grown on Sophie, his appearance quite suitable for the rough-edged professor who seemed to view the world in its own unique light.
Sophie followed his gaze toward the open door. Giggling erupted in the hallway before a young woman shuffled in. “Sorry, Professor.” She smiled, her face flushing with color.
“So sorry.” The entrancing male voice bordered on sarcasm as the man filled the doorframe. His large presence demanded the attention of everyone in the room because of his dangerous beauty. Sophie’s eyes widened in panic and she ducked behind her canvas to avoid being recognized. She could feel the blood rush to her face. Ashton King was standing in her art class with a robe that he barely had tied. What the hell was he doing here? Just breathe. Just breathe.
Sophie remembered the first time she had met Ashton. It was her first day at her new school. Her mother had moved them halfway through her freshman year to start her new job. Sophie remembered how nervous she’d been when she walked into her new classroom.
Everyone looked up at Sophie as Mr. Walters, her teacher, introduced her to the class. She found it overwhelming with the sea of eyes on her. She found herself looking down at her worn red shoes to avoid her embarrassment.
Mr. Walters directed her toward the only empty seat in the class. Ashton was the first person she locked eyes with, and he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. He had long blond hair that fell perfectly around his tanned face. His steel blue eyes looked back at her. A smile formed before she realized it, but he did not return the gesture. She let the smile fall as she slid into her desk and turned her attention toward the front of the class. She heard whispering around her, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. She tried to make herself as small as possible in her seat, hoping no one would pay any mind to her.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that Ashton’s gaze was still on her, and it made her uncomfortable. She felt a gentle tug on her hair, causing her to turn around. Everyone seemed to avoiding making eye contact. She turned back with the notion that she might have imagined it, but again someone tugged on it. When she turned this time, the faces behind her were obviously suppressing their laughter. The next time someone pulled her hair, she couldn’t help but cry out at the unexpected pain. The teacher spun around from the chalkboard to assess the interruption.
“Sophie?” Mr. Walters narrowed in on her. Sophie couldn’t tell if he was angry at her or not because he seemed to have a permanently pained expression on his face.
“Sorry. It won’t happen again.” Sophie gave a polite smile to Mr. Walters, who gazed at her from over his glasses.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, studying her.
“No, sir.”
“Good.” He continued onward with the lesson. Sophie turned around in her seat. Ashton was the only one willing to meet her hot glare. She leaned forward in her seat and pulled her long hair up over her shoulder, twisting it tightly in her hands. When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, Sophie rose quickly to her feet. She turned back toward Ashton, leaning down toward him so he would see the meaning in her words. “I will not play your little game,” she said angrily at him. His eyes were so beautiful she almost lost her nerve. “Leave me alone.” She was ashamed how much he affected her. Sophie was so overwhelmed that she didn’t notice that someone put their foot in her path. She tripped and fell between the rows of desks, landing on the floor. She looked up at a girl with a head full of perfectly curled blonde ringlets.
“Oops.” She laughed at Sophie. “Nice dress, by the way. Where did you get it? A dumpster?” The girl’s laugh was shrill. Sophie couldn’t stop herself from looking down at her dress with new eyes. She had been excited to wear it on her first day. She had found the perfect material and made sure she paid special attention to the detail when she made it. She had learned to sew when she was a small girl. Her neighbor, Mrs. Martin, would watch her when her mother worked late. The first time Sophie was introduced to sewing was when Mrs. Martin sewed lace cuffs on her favorite T-shirt when it had grown too small. Now as she looked down at the material she had adored, she couldn’t help but suddenly want it off. It felt too tight, too constricting, and tears threatened to fall.
When Mrs. Martin passed away, Sophie remembered crying herself to sleep for days. Mrs. Martin had treated her like family and her kindness would never be forgotten. She had shown Sophie everything she had known about sewing and she had told her beautiful stories about her life. Mrs. Martin had left her sewing machine to Sophie, and she had treasured it from that moment on. It was all she had left of her friend.