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The Dare, book 1

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When bad boy, bully Reid Willis is dared to mess with the new girl, Payton Corbett, a just turned 18yr old girl who'd just had her life change forever after a heartbreaking tragedy, things don't go to plan. Could a dare to destroy, become a dare to love? Or will their ever after be torn apart by one guy who is hell-bent on revenge? This is book 1 of a 3 book saga *PLEASE NOTE there are some triggering themes in this book, please read with caution*

Romance / Drama
Age Rating:

Chapter 1


I jittered with nerves as I looked at the vast, daunting, modern building from the window of the car — white walls that looked fresh and clean, three stories tall with large windows. In the middle of the main building, a substantial reflective glass front, with double glass doors with the words ‘Newquay College’ etched into the glass in bright white lettering.

Tree’s were scattered around the edges and a few at the front, providing shade for the wooden benches just a few feet away from the entrance.

It didn’t look much different from my previous one, although my old campus held a slightly more rustic look to it.

My parents had died a couple of months ago in a car crash. A selfish drunk driver took them from me while I’d been at a sleepover with a friend. That’s how I found myself here, in a new town, attending a new college, in a city where the only people I knew were my grandparents.

My father and I had a strained relationship, he always expected more from me, and when I failed, he made it known. He was never silent when one of my grades fell below a B. But he was still my father, we had good times, and I loved him nevertheless.

My mother, though, I loved her more than anything I’d ever loved, or could ever love. We had that typical dream mother-daughter bond that I cherished. She worked, although she only took jobs during schooling hours.

She always dropped me off and picked me up until I was old enough to make my way. We’d spend time together, watching TV, getting our hair done, or our nails, going to the park, or just hanging out.

Losing her, it broke me and tore me up into a million pieces. When she died, a part of me died too.

I used to be happy and outgoing, despite the fact I’d suffered a bout of depression, and I’d cut when I was thirteen. Besides the odd low mood since I’d been pretty outgoing and friendly for the most part.

I had my bad days, and I’d be lying if I said I never had a relapsed, but I was full of life and had dreams. I wanted to see the world, try new things, visit new places, and be adventurous.

I’d always longed to pick up my guitar and tour the world with a band. On stage, feeling the guitar in my hand, my fingers softly gliding over the fretboard as the plectrum picked at the strings.

Art was another love of mine, mostly manga style, but I was competent at portraits and animals too. I used to figure there was a whole world out there for me.

I was decent looking, five foot four, and slim, strawberry blonde hair that fell in natural loose curls just below my shoulders. My chest size was average, a 34C. I had some curves and typically dressed in the rocker chick, scene type style. I wasn’t a supermodel by a long shot, but it was good enough for me to be happy in my skin.

After that night, though, I hadn’t been the same. I shut out my friends; I couldn’t hear them say another ‘I’m sorry’ or see that look of tortured sympathy in their eyes. I left the band I was in, too, and I stopped drawing.

Then I found out I’d have to move, right before my eighteenth birthday, coming to stay with my grandparents was my only choice.

I tried to reach out to my friends, but they all ignored me, which only made things worse. I’d lost my parents, my band and my friends all in the space of a few short weeks.

I’d found myself cutting again, that was until my grandmother found out last month. I had the urges daily, but I wasn’t allowed anything sharp without supervision. Nana threatened to have me put on medication, and I hated the drugs, it always made it worse for me.

The only thing from the former self I kept was my guitar playing; it was the only thing that brought me any solace. I’d put it down for a while, but my grandmother convinced me to pick it back up again, and it was all I had left of the old me.

“Have a good day, sweetheart, try and make some friends ’kay?” My grandmother smiled as she brushed a stray strand of hair from my face.

I always had this one tendril of hair, that no matter what I did, always seem to fall out of place with the rest of my hair if I didn’t pin it back.

“Yeah.” I sighed, taking another glimpse at the building, wishing I didn’t have to get out of the car.

The concrete ground outside was littered with hundreds of students, some in small groups, some sat on the benches eating and drinking from take out coffee cups, and others pouring inside to head to lessons.

What awaited me was my own personal hell. Starting during the second year, where everyone would already have their friends and groups, and I’d be the weird new rocker ginger kid.

“You’ll be fine, dear. Now go on, before you’re late.” She patted my legs that were covered by denim jeans, with rips in the knee, and kissed my cheek.

I gave her a small smile and left the car, getting my guitar from the boot, and made my way to the reception area.


Four days, with Tuesday’s free, was the schedule I was given. Math, English, and Music practice on a Monday and Friday. Music History and Songwriting were on Wednesdays, and Thursdays were studying sessions with Art after lunch.

I sighed at my schedule before I started walking down the long, vast white painted hall with discolored white tiles.

I was trying to follow the map to find my locker when abruptly, someone crashed into me. If it hadn’t been for the fact I’d fallen against the lockers, I would have landed straight on my backside.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” A taller girl gasped as she looked horrified at me.

She was a rocker like me. Her long black hair was styled in a typical scene kid style. Her outfit was simple, a black tank with black combat shorts with a studded belt around her waist. Her cerulean blue eyes were lined with blue colored eyeliner on her lid, just a shade or two darker than her eye color. Full soft pink lips that were coated in a clear lip gloss, making them glimmer a little in the light.

Her skin slightly tanned, she was a little bigger than me, but slender and curved, and intimidatingly pretty.

“It’s okay.” I gave her a small smile as I recovered from the knock back.

“I’m such a klutz. My name’s Emma.” Her smile was sweet and friendly as she finished picking up the books she’d dropped during the collision.

“Oh, uh, Payton,” I replied awkwardly, feeling more than uncomfortable.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” She eyed me suspiciously, and I nodded softly, “What are you looking for?”

“Uh, locker...436.” I looked at the small piece of paper in front of me that had my locker number and padlock code written down on.

“Oh, hey, that’s next to mine! Come on, and I’ll show you, it’s just up this hall and to the left.” She smiled as she flicked her head in a wayward direction.

I shrugged and started following her. It beat having to find it myself; there were more then I could have imagined.

“Uh, thanks.” I gave her a side smile as she patted on my locker softly, the metal clinking as she did.

“No worries. Hey, what classes you got?”

“Uh, Maths, English and Music practice today.”

“First or second year?”

“Second, transferred here.”

“Oh, sweet! I do English and music; we’re class buddies! No math, though, math is gross.” She laughed softly.

“I don’t like it much. It was more because I had, too, my GSCE grade sucked.”

“Same reason I take English. Say, you seem pretty chill, you want to hang out? I’ll be honest, I don’t have many other friends, just Stacey, but she’s off sick today. It would be cool not to be alone, Stacey is chill too. And as I can see, you play the guitar. I’m a vocalist, Stacey is a drummer, I can play bass too, but I prefer singing.”

I studied her for a moment, she seemed relaxed, and I supposed it would be easier if she could show me around. I didn’t fancy colliding into yet another person or embarrassing myself by getting lost. The least attention I drew to myself, the better.

“Sure.” I nodded, somewhat reluctantly. I had no intention of becoming friends, but maybe a guide wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Nice! I’ll show you to your math class, and I’ll meet you after for English?”

“Sounds good. Thanks again.” She replied with a simple grin, showing her perfectly white, straight teeth as she opened her locker to organize her things.

“Any time, I was the new kid in my high school, so I get it. Where are you from?”

“Salisbury,” I replied shortly, secretly begging she wouldn’t start asking me for my life story.

“Oh nice, I’ve heard the Catherdral there is stunning!” Emma looked at her watch and sighed. “Let’s go, don’t need you being late now!”


“And here is the music building, it’s pretty awesome. Towards the back, you have a computer area with some small recording booths. The biggest rooms are stage rooms but also act as classrooms. And there are three smaller practice rooms too, and two big recording studio rooms.” Emma explained as she took me for a quick tour around the music building.

I was in awe; it was at least twice the size of my previous college.

“It’s amazing!”

“One of the best. Come on, better get into the classroom.” She smiled before she led me into the most significant room where students were already beginning to pile in.

We found a couple of seats in the back row, in the far corner of the room and got comfortable as other students began pouring in. And then I saw him.

He was tall, six-foot, or thereabout and tan skin that gave it a honey beige color. Dark brown, almost black floppy hair in that standard hot emo hairstyle covered his head. A tattoo sleeve down his left arm that almost reached down his whole arm, dressed in a plain white tee that hugged his subtle muscles and black jeans.

He had that type of physique that was slim, but muscular, along with hazel eyes and chiseled features he was godlike.

He was followed in by three other guys, all good looking like him, but he was undoubtedly the better one of the group.

“That’s Reid,” Emma spoke quietly, nudging my arm gently with her elbow to get my attention. “He’s a jerk, popular, likable, talented, and he knows it. He’s the British college version of an American Jock. A fucking talented musician, rock god as some say, but a jerk.”

Of course, he was a jerk; all the good looking ones were, it was the same in any high school or college.

I’d dated one guy when I was sixteen, he was one of the good looking ones and seemed nice, until he wasn’t and left me heartbroken.

“You see that guy next to him, though?” Emma spoke as she cleared her throat, “The one just as good looking as him, half Mexican, with strong muscles, board shoulders, and dark eyes?”

I looked around his friends and spotted him instantly; it wasn’t hard. He was unquestionably far more muscular than Reid and the other two. He stood maybe an inch or two taller than Reid.


“He is a jerk, a bloody bully, and a rich spoiled brat. He picked on Stacey because she’s a larger girl. She not obese by a long shot and attractive, but she’s not a size four, caked in makeup bimbo like the way he thinks girls should be. He only stopped and left her alone because I punched him and broke his nose.”

I looked at her wide-eyed, wanting to be sure I heard her correctly. “You did what?”

“I had a bad day. He was a prick, I snapped. He didn’t tell anyone, because come on, getting your nose broken by a girl? I told him if he didn’t leave her alone, I’d tell everyone. He still gives her dirty looks and mutters under his breath, but at least he’s not hurt her since.”

“That’s awful...but go you!” I spoke half impressed and half-amused. I hated bullies, so it was good to hear when they got a taste of their own medicine at times.

“I stick up for my friends, and if that asshole gives you any shit, I’ll be happy to break his nose again. Or anyone who fucks with you for that fact.”

My cheeks flushed pink, thank god I was wearing a light cover of blush or it would have been obvious. “Thanks.”

I looked up, and I saw Reid looking at me, which made me flush further, the heat coming from my cheeks could have warmed a small, cold room.

I sank into my seat, bringing my hand to the side of my face in an attempt to hide it. I had a feeling college was going to be a whole lot worse than I’d thought.

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