Truth or Dare - Danielle Allen Page 0,53

crowd until I was a couple feet away from him. “Kingston!”

Kingston and Eli turned around. Eli grinned, not even pretending he wasn’t prepared to listen to the whole conversation.

“Simone!” Kingston looked at me and then at the almost empty gate. “What are—”

“Yes,” I interrupted him as I threw my arms around his neck. “I want this. I want you. I want…” I kissed him softly. “I want us.”

“Good,” he growled deepening the kiss.

Pushing out of his arms, I backed away. “I have to go.”

The way he looked at me made the knots unravel into butterflies.

“I see you’re still dramatic as hell,” he joked as I backed away.

I smirked, holding my thumb and pointer finger close together. “A little bit.” Winking, I turned around and ran back to my gate.

“You’re moving here, aren’t you?” Tisha asked as she waited for me by the door.

“Not immediately.” I showed the irritated ticket agent my boarding pass. “But yeah… I think I am.”

“What are you going to do in Atlanta besides Kingston?”

I laughed, buzzing with excitement. “I’m going to finish designing my line.”

Tisha’s jaw dropped. “Look at you chasing your dreams and going after everything you want! I love this for you. Finally quitting the bank, designing your clothes, getting the man, I’m so proud of you.”

I lifted my shoulders and cocked my head to the side. “We get paid this Friday so I could change my mind when that direct deposit hits.”

She laughed. “That tracks.”

The End

Trouble’s What You’re In Sneak Peek

Sneak Peek

Pressing my back against the jagged stone of the fraternity house, I made myself as flat as possible. The moonlight glimmered on the surface of the lake creating the only light as I hid in the shadows. Even in dark colors, hidden on the far side of the back of the house, I knew I wasn’t safe. I knew I was in trouble. I had to keep moving, but there weren’t many options. My heart hammered in my chest as adrenaline and fear coursed through my veins.

My ride was gone.

My cell phone was in Carter’s purse.

My options were limited.

Fear gripped me and I tried to control my breathing, but each sharp intake of air noisily slipped through my nostrils. My chest rose and fell quickly as the upstate New York chill strangled me. The unseasonably chilly late September breeze ripped through my cropped jacket, causing me to tremble. With my eyes closed, I prayed that if God could deliver me from my current predicament, I’d make other living arrangements. I swore I’d stop associating with the backstabbing bitches I called teammates.

As soon as I heard a blood curdling scream, I took off running again.

What the hell was that?

Wearing the black, ankle-high boots and a short, olive romper seemed like a good idea when I’d gotten dressed. But I didn’t expect to be running into the wooded area that surrounded three-quarters of the lake. And as I nearly tripped over a dead tree stump and felt branches scraping my legs, I was reminded of why I wasn’t dressed appropriately. I wasn’t prepared for the temperature to drop so suddenly. I wasn’t prepared to run through the woods in heeled boots. I wasn’t prepared for the night to go down the way that it did. And I certainly wasn’t prepared to be swept off my feet.

As I approached the rickety walking bridge, I pushed the knowledge of the rotted wood out of my mind. I ignored the sound of the bridge creaking under my weight with each step. I ran, rejecting the fear that I might not make it to the other side. So, I focused on the object of my affection: Aiden Black.

Son of Hollywood Bad Boy Eddie Black and supermodel Dominica Farber, Aiden was undeniably good-looking. He had his mother’s perfectly coiled dark brown hair and her almondy sun-kissed skin tone. He had his father’s hypnotizing, hazel eyes, thick lashes and personal trainer sculpted body. Although not a celebrity like his parents, Aiden had graced the pages of magazines since birth. He’d been linked to other celebrity kids, actresses, and models up until he transferred to University Falls Institute of Technology in his junior year.

UFIT was a small private school that didn’t have an Ivy League distinction but rivaled those schools in both the quality of education and elitism. Aiden transferred in the second semester and we had Advanced Creative Writing I together. He kept to himself and didn’t talk much so I assumed he’d gotten into UFIT due to a generous