Nerve by Jeanne Ryan Read Free Book Online

bodyguard at all. Kind of. And I do need someone to video this. We make a good team.
    “But this time we have to take separate cars so I can get home quicker,” I tell him.
    As I scurry toward my car with Tommy alongside me, I click open a link and quickly fill out an additional form that has me agree to a scrolling list of terms and conditions. I scan through and check them off before I put my phone away. My neck is damp.
    Before I get into my car, I ask Tommy, “Think the baristas will call the police when they see me again?”
    He furrows his brow. “Probably not right away.”
    For some reason, his answer makes me giggle.
Not right away
will just have to be good enough.

three
     
    I park the car at 9:36 and, on the way into the coffee shop, check my phone to find a picture of my dare partner, Ian. Dark hair to his chin, intense eyes as dark as the hair, sharp cheekbones. In a word, hot.
    So I have to let cutie buy me some coffee and sing while I wait? The first part I can handle, but singing in public? Going home starts to feel like a better option. No shoes to die for, but no dying of embarrassment either. I remind myself that I actually completed a dare last night. And I’ve got admirers. Okay, probably drunken geeks with nothing better to do than scroll through a thousand videos to check out cleavage shots in slow-mo, but still.
    Inside the shop, no sign of Ian, so I shuffle my feet while Tommy finds a spot to sit center stage. A couple of guyswearing sandals with socks rush inside and seem to scan the room until they see me. Then they find tables nearby, staring my way all the while. To the casual observer, they look like typical Seattle guys, armed with smartphones but no fashion sense. When their phones point my way, I realize they must be Watchers sent by NERVE to capture my dare. Oh, crap. But it makes sense that the gamers would want to see how players respond under the pressure of a live audience. My stomach lurches. That’s my response.
    I wring my hands and bounce on my toes, staring downward. Every few seconds I risk a glance toward the door. Where is Ian? The dare said 9:40. Does NERVE know about my curfew, the way they knew about the shoes? I’m sure I posted complaints about my prison sentence on ThisIsMe, so if they’ve seen my page, they know about that plus a whole lot more. Well, whatever, it’s not like it’s secret.
    I stand and wait for what seems like an hour but is actually two minutes, and then Ian walks in. I can tell he recognizes me right away, but he doesn’t say anything. Behind him a willowy girl pointing a phone hurries to take up a spot a few yards away. Guess he travels with a bodyguard too.
    When he stops in front of me, I cross my arms. The phone pic didn’t capture the smooth olive planes of his cheeks, or the lanky gait in those well-worn jeans. But would it kill him to crack a smile?
    I say, “Hey, you get to buy me a latte. Hazelnut is my favorite.” Is that diva enough?
    He purses his lips. “So?”
    Huh? This is his dare too, isn’t it? Maybe the operational word was
demand
.
    I rise onto the fronts of my ballet flats and flip my hair. “What do you mean? I want a latte. Now.”
    He steps closer so I have to crane my neck to look at his face. “Who do you think I am?”
    I’m taken aback. “You’re Ian, aren’t you?” My voice sounds like something in a cartoon.
    “Yeah.”
    “So, I’m Vee.”
    His lip curls. “What’s Vee short for?”
    Okay, now that is secret. “What’s it matter?”
    He shrugs. “Guess it doesn’t.” Still no movement toward buying me a latte.
    I exhale loudly. “Fine. I guess we both lose. Unless your dare was to be a jerk.” I move toward the door.
    He grabs at my arm. “What, you giving up already?”
    I cock my head. What’s his game? “You going to buy it for me or not?”
    “What’s it worth to you?”
    A pair of killer shoes, bozo. “What’re you getting at?”
    He leans in close. “Part of my dare depends on