Page 32 of The Game She Hates

She agrees that it sounds like a fun way to pass the time. I ask her to give me a minute and head upstairs to change into comfortable sweats and put on a cap to protect my hair. I want to make sure Pearl doesn’t stain her dress either, so I grab my newest sweats with the Glaciers logo and their matching bottoms.

After changing, I bound down the stairs. Pearl is sitting on the couch, lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the window. I wish I knew what was on her mind.

It’s intriguing how she’s not absorbed in her phone like everyone else I know, including myself when I’m alone. I know she isn’t active on social media, but aren’t there enough funny cat videos to keep anyone entertained?

When Pearl emerges from the bathroom wearing my clothes, my heart takes a cross-check. I almost can’t breathe.

I’ve never been one to share my closet with anyone, but I’d definitely reconsider if Pearl wants to borrow all my clothes.

“I’m not sure I’ll give it back. It’s super cozy,” she says, her hands lost in the sleeves.

“Keep it. It looks better on you,” I reply, trying my best to hide the grin on my face.

Pearl snorts. She isn’t petite at all, but her feminine curves are completely hidden in my clothes. She looks absolutely adorable.

I lead her to the garage where the dining table is, and with a swift motion, I sweep away the tarp covering the table. I arrange the supplies closer to her—an assortment of brushes, the dark walnut stain, and a container of water for cleaning the brushes.

Pearl takes the brush and holds it by the handle’s top, and I smile, realizing it’s probably her first time doing a DIY project like this.

“Here, let me show you how to hold the brush,” I say, gently guiding her hands closer to the bristles. The touch of her fingers against mine sends my heart racing.

I demonstrate a few brushstrokes on the tabletop, and she looks at me with beaming eyes, her gaze intent as she watches me work. I gesture for her to give it a go.

She hesitates at first but then begins with a small stroke. As she gains confidence, her eagerness shows, but in her excitement, she accidentally smudges a spot. Her expression shifts to concern.

“Oh no, this doesn’t look right,” she says, flinching.

“Don’t worry, nothing you can’t fix.” I show her how to smooth out the smudged area and she does a pretty decent job at it.

Her focused expression, the way her blonde curls gently fall over her face, and the subtle bite of her lips make me wonder what it would be like to turn her angelic face and kiss her. I quickly shake my head.

Friends.

We agreed on friendship. For now.

Lost in this amazing world where Pearl is doing a project with me in my garage, we enjoy a comfortable silence. My gaze isn’t as focused on the dining table as it should be because Pearl is proving herself capable of the task. She’s not even sparing me a glance, which is giving me ample opportunity to study her every feature.

One of her eyebrows has a slight raise to it, giving her this endearing quirk. And until today, I hadn’t noticed the barely-there freckles that are only visible up close. Her eyes are that perfect almond shape, with a cute, petite nose that’s got a little point to it. I’m doing my best to steer clear of her full lips, but it’s proving to be a challenge. If it wasn’t for Robyn’s warning earlier, I’d have caved a long time ago. But I desperately need her to trust me. I need to make it easier for her to get there.

She shifts slightly, getting down on her knees to reach the back side of the table, a delicate crease forming between her brows as she concentrates. Every time a drip of stain slides off the brush and hits the floor, she quickly dabs it with a rag. It’s beyond sweet how perfectly she wants to do this. While it may be taking longer to stain this table than it would have if I hadn’t been putting it off for a while, Pearl’s presence and the little quirks of her efforts make this feel less like a task and more like a moment I want to capture and hold onto forever.

Suddenly, Robyn’s voice interrupts us, pulling me back to reality.

“I wanted to say I’m ready to go, but y’all look like you just started your project,” she says, hinting at something else.

Pearl’s demeanor completely changes, as if she’s trying to snap herself out of this dream too.

“No, I think I’ve done enough damage to this table. Let’s go home,” she says, replacing her enthusiasm with an all too familiar distant tone.

Was the fun we were having all in my head? Why is Pearl trying to resist enjoying herself with me?

23

Pearl Davis

On any given day, I’d rather not go through the trouble of packing my own lunch, but if there’s even the slightest chance I might run into Zane, well, Randy’s isn’t an option anymore.

Enduring another sip of my mediocre coffee is only adding to the headache already pulsing in my temples. But then again, that’s a small price to pay to avoid falling for Zane.

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