Dare Me, Page 3

After a minute more, she calls my name, and then collapses into me, clutching at my chest, breathing hard.

  “Oh my God,” she whispers.

  Her cheeks are pink; her eyes are shiny.

  “Thank you,” she adds, and I laugh.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Eight

  We continue like this for three nights.

  I sneak into her room, or she sneaks into mine.

  We touch, we explore, we feel.

  We go no further than that.

  On this third night, I lie in her bed, and her hips are pressed into mine.

  “Let’s run away,” she suggests. “Away from here.”

  “Where shall we go?” I play along. “The sea?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m serious, Dare. We don’t belong here.”

  “We don’t,” I agree. “But we won’t be here long.”

  “How do you know that?” she asks, and her hand is splayed on my chest.

  “I just do. Trust me.”

  “Ok,” she whispers and doesn’t question me further. Instead, she lifts her head and her hair dangles onto my belly. “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?” she asks.

  “Anywhere with you,” I answer, and that’s the truth.

  She hesitates. “Are you sure? They say I’m crazy.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “I agree,” she says. “Sometimes. But other times, I feel like I might be.”

  “You just miss your brother,” I tell her. “You miss Finn.”

  She swallows hard at the mention of his name, and I regret bringing him up. “It’ll be ok,” I add. “It’ll all be ok.”

  I sneak back to my room before breakfast, and when the sun is shining, I find her in the cafeteria. She’s shoving her food around on her plate, her wrist slender. I sit next to her, shoulder to shoulder.

  “Miss Price?” A nurse stops beside us. “It’s time for your medication.”

  Calla eyes the tray. “There’s new ones,” she points out, looking at the colorful pills.

  “Doctor’s orders.”

  Calla nods and obediently puts them in her mouth. She swallows, then opens her mouth for the nurse to check. The nurse nods, and walks away.

  Calla spits them into her napkin.

  I grin. “Nice.”

  She shrugs. “I’m not taking those.”

  “Good girl.”

  We’re co-conspirators now, reveling in our cleverness. The nurse doesn’t stop by me, because I don’t receive medication.

  We eat, we stroll outside, we attend our group sessions.

  I loathe this place, and I count the days. I am certain, as I told Calla, that we won’t be here long. We don’t belong here, because we’re not crazy. Karma doesn’t hold prisoners against their will.

  Not if they’re undeserving.

  “Do you believe in Karma?” I ask Calla as we walk. She bends to sniff a flower.

  “I guess. She brought me you.”

  “She?”

  “Karma is obviously a woman.”

  I chuckle and Calla stops in her tracks. She stares at me, her big blue eyes serious.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  She pulls at my fingers, fidgeting.

  “I love you.”

  She says it like she’s admitting something.

  I laugh. “I know. I love you, too.”

  “We’re not crazy?”

  “No.”

  Nine

  It’s Thursday night when Calla doesn’t come to my room.

  For a few minutes, I’m not worried. I think she fell asleep, or she forgot. But that’s not right. She’d never forget. I know that.

  I pace for a bit, and then poke my head out my door. The nurses at the nurse’s station are chatting amongst themselves and not paying attention, so it’s easy for me to slip down the hall and into the next wing.

  Calla is in her bed, so my fears are allayed, but not for long.

  She’s tossing and turning, a sheen of sweat on her brow.

  I sit in the chair next to her, and take her hand, but she doesn’t calm. I’m not sure whether to wake her. So for awhile, I just sit with her, watching. Waiting.

  Calla moans a little, and her brows are furrowed, and her fingers clench mine, tight, then tighter.

  She writhes and squirms, and finally, I can’t take it anymore.

  “Calla, wake up,” I whisper. “You’re ok. Wake up. You’re safe.”

  Her eyes open and they are filled with fear and confusion, and she sits, still holding tightly to my hand.

  “Dare?”

  I nod. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

  “Why do I feel like I’m not, though?”

  I don’t answer.

  “I’m here. You are.”

  She curls up on her side and reaches for me, and I slide in next to her. She clings to me, like I’m a raft and she’s drowning.

  “I keep having nightmares,” she tells me, her breath against my cheek. “I dream of dark things. I dream of babies, and my father, and someone keeps whispering, you must pay for the sins of your fathers. My father has never done anything wrong in his life. I’m insane, Dare.”

  “You’re not,” I assure her. “I swear to you.”

  “You’re in my dreams, too,” she tells me, uncertainly. “You’re wearing a dark jacket and a ring, and your eyes are so black. Let me see your eyes, Dare.”

  I pull my head back so she can get a closer look, and she peers into them.

  “Dark brown,” she decides. “Almost black, but not quite.”

  “Nope, not black,” I agree.

  “Do you know Latin?” she asks me, abruptly changing the subject.

  I shake my head. “Only a little.”

  “My brother used to study it. He used to say Serva me, serva bo te.”

  “Save me, and I’ll save you,” I interpret.

  She nods, surprised. “Yes.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask her.

  “I don’t know.”

  She sighs and stares out the window, her pale hand playing with my fingers.

  “You make me feel like he did,” she finally says. “Safe. Secure. Understood. No one else has ever understood me. But he did. And you do.”

  I can’t tell her that I know.

  I can’t tell her that I knew Finn.

  It feels like it’s keeping a secret, but sometimes, that’s necessary.

  “I’m glad I make you feel good,” I tell her instead.

  She inches closer to me, as though she wants to try to crawl inside my skin with me.

  “Hold me,” she says softly. “All night.”

  “I’ll hold you until rounds,” I tell her. “Then I’ll have to go before the nurses find us.”

  “When will we leave this place?’

  “Soon.”

  She nods and closes her eyes, and she trusts my word completely.

  I love that about her.

  Ten

  The following day, light shines into the bus, and I sit two seats behind Calla. We’re supposed to sit with members of our own sex, but I watch Calla the entire ride. She glances back at me sometimes, but most of the way, her head is pressed to the window glass.

  She looks so sad, and that worries me.

  When we arrive at the craft fair, we unload from the bus, and Calla waits for me, off to the side.

  Her fingers curl within mine, and we stroll along the aisles of the outdoor sales, browsing through vendors.

  We look at art, at sad paintings and abstracts. Calla seems to gravitate toward the dark ones, the ones that look like they’re weeping. She pauses in front of an abstract cemetery angel, her head cocked to the side.

  “I think that might be Saint Michael,” she says.

  St. Michael protect me.

  Her brother always wore the St. Michael medallion.

  “It could be,” I agree.

  We move on to the next booth and the next, u
ntil we come to a jewelry booth. I casually browse the vendor’s wares, but I’m not overly impressed. I do come from money, even though I detest my family. I’m accustomed to nice things, and this vendor’s stuff, while not fake, is not overly nice.

  But then Calla gasps and points, grabbing at something silver.

  “This,” she tells me, opening her palm. A scratched silver band lays there, glinting in the light. “You were wearing this in my dreams.”

  I pick it up.

  “I was wearing one like it,” I correct her. “Dreams are funny, Calla-Lily.”

  But she shakes her head. “No, it was this one. I feel it, Dare.”

  I slide it onto my middle finger, and her eyes widen. “That’s the one. It’s meant for you.”

  I smile a little, but I can’t resist. I pay the vendor and keep the ring.

  Calla is satisfied, and she plays with it on my finger as we walk. She twists it round and round.

  “Don’t you feel it?” she asks me. “Because I do. Something… something…”

  She trails off, and anyone else would think she’s mad. But I don’t.

  I know better.

  “Let’s get away from here for awhile,” I suggest. Her eyes dart up to mine and she glances around us for signs of staff.

  “We’ll get into trouble,” she says.

  “Worth it,” I reply.

  She grins. “Ok.”

  I pull her through the thin crowd and we disappear into the next street, which leads to the ocean. We take the trail down to the beach, and once we get there, we take our shoes off and walk barefoot in the sand.

  “I love this,” Calla admits. “It reminds me of home. I live near the beach. Above it, actually. In the cliffs.”

  I know.

  The waves crash against the shore, and a storm is rolling in.

  But Calla and I stroll as though we haven’t a care in the world, even though droplets of rain splatter onto our shoulders.

  When the wind picks up, we stop, and Calla turns to me.

  She stares up at me, her eyes wide and thoughtful.

  Before I can say anything, she loops her slender arms around my neck and kisses me.

  Her lips are fiery hot and passionate, pressing hard against mine. Her hips jut immediately into my own, and her breathing gets labored right away. Her fingers cut into my skin, and she is urgent.

  “I want you,” she tells me. “I’m tired of waiting, Dare. I want you right here, right now… where they can’t see us.”

  They meaning nurses, I assume.

  I scan the beach. There’s an inlet.... just a little ways away.

  I pick Calla up, leaving our shoes in the sand.

  She kisses my neck as I walk and I quicken my steps, because God, the wait.

  The wait has been killing me.

  Has it been weeks or years?

  I don’t even know right now.

  I set Calla carefully down and spread my jacket on the ground. She immediately pulls me down onto it, and her hands are everywhere.

  My lips, my hair, my chest, my groin.

  She touches me like she’s memorizing me through her fingers, and maybe she is.

  “You’re mine,” she whispers into my mouth before kissing me. I kiss her back, hard, before I agree.

  “I’m yours.”

  I pull her to me, and she’s so soft. Her hands are strong as she clutches my back.

  “I need you, Dare,” she whispers. “Please.”

  She thinks this is our first time, and so I treat it as such. I work her up to being with me… my fingers sliding inside of her, making her wet, making her pliant. She arches her back, and her soft breasts crush into me, and I can feel her pulse there, rapid and light.

  “Calla, let yourself go,” I tell her in her ear. “Relax and just feel.”

  Her muscles relax and her head drops back, and I can see her eyes moving behind her eyelids as she moans.

  She writhes on my jacket, she pushes herself into my hand, and it isn’t until she is arching, arching, quivering… and then I slide into her.

  Her eyes open as I fill her up, and then her legs clasp around my hips.

  “Oh my God, Dare,” she murmurs, and her breath is hot in my ear. “Oh my God. Don’t stop. Please. Please.”

  Her begging is almost my undoing.

  I rock with her, touching her, kissing her, consuming her.

  Her hair is whipped around us by the wind and we’re climbing together, climbing climbing climbing toward a climax.

  Her fingers bite into me, and mine into her, and the friction is delicious, the attraction undeniable. Together, Calla and I are magic.

  The air around us crackles and snaps, and she breathes and pants and moans.

  “Calla,” I utter, and the wind takes my words and carries them away. “Calla.”

  I’m coming undone and I can’t wait any longer.

  I empty myself into her and I can’t put it off any longer. I pulse and pulse and she absorbs it, contracting around me, and she cries my name.

  “Dare,” she says, and there is a tear on her cheek and I wipe it away while I’m still buried deep inside of her.

  “Why are you crying?” I ask quickly, but she’s smiling.

  “I’m happy,” she explains. “You make me happy. You’re everything, Dare. Don’t let go, ok? Don’t let go.”

  I hold onto her, nodding, and we stay this way for so long, as long as we can, until I hear voices calling our names, looking for us.

  We put our clothes back on, and reluctantly walk back out to the beach, to find the nurses coming our way. They’re stern and we’re in trouble, but neither of us care.

  They separate us on the bus, and we’re going to get disciplined, but it doesn’t matter.

  Nothing matters but Calla.

  Eleven

  I don’t see Calla for forty-eight long hours.

  That’s the amount of time that we are both confined to our rooms in punishment. We eat in our rooms without company.

  They watch us so carefully that we can’t sneak out at night, and I can’t see for myself that Calla is ok. I have to believe she is, and that she’s waiting for me on the other end of the hall.

  In the forty-ninth hour, I am allowed to go to breakfast, and I search the room for Calla.

  She’s not here.

  I scan all the faces, and she’s simply not here.

  My heart pounds as I grab a tray and head outside, so certain she’ll be there.

  The gardens are empty.

  The trails are empty.

  She’s not at the pond, either.

  I ask around, but no one has seen her, and I truly begin to worry as I rush through the halls toward her room.

  “Mr. DuBray?” a nurse stops me. “Where are you going?” I can tell from her face that she knows.

  “I’m just out for a walk,” I lie.

  She looks sympathetic, but she can’t give in. “I don’t think you need to walk down this hall. Go outside and get some fresh air.”

  Calla is my air.

  I stare her in the eye. “Is Calla Price all right?”

  She pauses.

  “I can’t give you information about another patient, Mr. DuBray.”

  But she wants to. I can see it in her eyes.

  “Can you just tell me if she’s ok? Please?”

  The nurse’s brown eyes waver.

  “She’s no longer a patient here, Mr. DuBray.”

  My heart leaps into my throat.

  “What?”

  I fight to remain calm, to hold my composure, to breathe.

  The nurse lowers her voice.

  “After the incident at the beach, her father felt it prudent to remove her from here.”

  “She’s gone?” My voice is limp.

  The nurse nods.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She turns and walks away and I’m limp, standing motionless in a sea of insane people.

  I was only here for her. If she’s gone…
>
  I am numb as I walk to her room, numb as I peer inside to find it empty.

  Was she here yesterday?

  The day before?

  When exactly did they take her?

  I sit on the bed. It’s stripped now, down to the rubber-covered mattress. There’s not a thing left of Calla in this room.

  I stare out the window, at the scenery that she stared at. The tree, the sky, the rosebushes.

  “Are you Dare?”

  A voice comes from the doorway, small and timid. A girl.

  “Yes, I am.”

  She approaches me, and sticks her hand in her pocket.

  “Calla asked me to give you this.”

  She hands me a tiny parcel, wrapped in Kleenex.

  “Thank you,” I murmur and she rushes away.

  I tear the tissue off, and find her brother’s St. Michael’s medallion, and a note.

  Hold this for me. I’ll see you soon.

  She’s never without her brother’s medallion. Ever.

  It’s her most precious possession, and she’s given it to me.

  It’s her way of promising that we’ll be together again soon.

  I slip the silver chain over my head and tuck it into my shirt.

  Days pass.

  Without Calla, they are empty.

  But every time I worry, I run my fingers across the medallion.

  She’ll be back.

  She has promised.

  Twelve

  Nights pass slowly without knowing when I’ll see Calla next.

  When I sleep, I dream of her. The dreams are so vivid that I can smell her and taste her. I can hear her voice. When I wake, alone, it’s crushing.

  A nurse tries to take the St. Michael medallion from me.

  “It’s against the rules,” she tells me sternly.

  “I don’t play by the rules,” I answer, and I refuse to give it up. “Don’t even think about sedating me. You know what would happen if my grandmother found out.”

  The nurse glares, but she knows I’m right.

  Eleanor Savage wouldn’t tolerate that. Eleanor might hate me, but she would never allow a Savage family member to be treated in such a way. It’s bad for public perception.

  The nurse leaves me alone, knowing that there’s nothing she can do.