Page 88 of Fake Game

Fuck me.

When she looks up, one of my questions is finally answered.

“Your eyes are brown.”

“Biologically, yes.”

She throws her robe haphazardly into her bathroom and then pads over, crawling onto her bed. I turn around and face her as she gathers up the blanket on her bed and scrunches it into a ball close to her body.

“I thought it was a trick of the light the other night.”

“Nope.” She avoids looking at me directly. “No one else knows.”

“So, I’m special?”

“Hardly. It’s just hard to keep the contacts in when taking off my makeup; they get all cloudy.”

“Sure,” I grin at her excuse. “Brown eyes are cute.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t work.” She squints at me. “You’re blurry unless you stand close to me.”

“Oh?” I shift from the footboard to her mattress. “How close?” I continue moving across the bed, closing the distance between us.

Her hands tighten on her blanket, but she says nothing until I’m mere inches away. I drink up the way her cheeks are flushed red from the shower. Her skin is covered in a smattering of very pale freckles. I reach out and cup her jaw, running my thumb over them.

“Too close.” She pushes me back with more force than I expect from her tiny body. “My vision is not that messed up.”

I lean back on my forearms, tilting my head as I watch her draw her knees to her chest.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Sparkles?”

A haunted look passes through her eyes. “Why haven’t you asked me?”

“Asked you what?”

She lets out a light huff that borders on an almost self-deprecating laugh. The small smile that pulls at the corners of her lips is sad and her lids lower with a look of defeat.

“What happened back at the club, Deer?”

Her sadness muddles into confusion. “Club?”

And now it’s my turn to avert my gaze. “How about this. You tell me what happened, and I tell you what’s behind that red door.”

Some of the tension leaves her shoulders, and she gnaws on her lower lip before nodding.

“You do have to go first,” I push, nudging her foot with my own.

She lets out a tsk, but when her eyes meet mine again, I see a fire building. She opens her mouth, and that fire promptly snuffs out. “I’m going to be sick.” She drops her forehead to her knees.

I’m so lost. I don’t want to push her; I don’t want to hurt her…but something tells me I need to. That whatever is haunting her is something she wants to share but is terrified to. Whatever weight she is carrying, I just want to be able to lessen the load even if it’s just by the smallest fraction. Deer is always determined to be the knight of her own story, but even the strongest warrior needs backup.

So, I don’t move. I sit and wait, and wait, and wait, until she finally comes to terms with herself.

“My name is Deirdre.”

Deirdre.

“Sounds very…Irish.”

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