Page 14 of Playing Flirty

But I only huffed in his direction.

For the rest of the game he managed to identify my answers and send all his points my way. And I think he did it on purpose.

I didn’t care. I took the win, and as soon as the game ended, I escaped to their large balcony, hoping the familiar city lights could put me at ease. It was weird having a place be familiar after the upbringing I’d had, but San Diego had wiggled itself into my heart after just one Comic-Con.

Behind me, the door opened, and William’s footsteps approached. I didn’t need to confirm it was him—his pine and lavender scent reached me before he did.

“You still mad about the joke?” he asked, fidgeting with the strings of his gray joggers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? On one of your dates?”

“Jealous?”

I glanced upward to catch his smirk. His eyes were light. He wanted toplay. Everything was a game with him. Everything was a joke.

“I’m not in the mood, William. Go away.”

“Go where? I live here.” He leaned his hip on the balcony rail.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. I’ll go.”

He jumped in front of me. “Don’t go. I’m sorry.” His eyes searched for mine, but I avoided his gaze. “Come on, admit it. You’re crankier than usual. You don’t laugh at any of my jokes anymore.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re not funny.”

“Hobbit,” he said, and I knew he was trying to get my attention. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t think it would actually upset you. We do this thing, and… I…” He hesitated, scrunching up his face. “I took it too far, and I won’t do it again.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d have teased him had the roles been reversed. William and I were usually doing one of two things, making fun of each other or having fun together. Although we’d never admit the latter.

I spun toward the railing once more and wrapped my hands around the cold metal. “Hobbits aren’t very sexy.” I breathed out, my eyes prickling.

“What?” he asked, his voice thick and distorted as if he needed to clear a bug from his windpipe.

I wasn’t mad at him. I was just…

“Nothing.” I brushed off the thought before I could dissect my withering self-esteem with William Ashdern. Making my way to the door once more, I paused and retreated into the safety of the game I knew how to play with him. “Perhaps when Perfect Patrick returns, I’ll start feelingMerryagain.”

I stepped into the apartment and waited for his laugh—a hobbit reference should do the trick. But a quick glance over my shoulder showed me nothing but frown lines where I expected his ridiculous smile.

That night, I read and reread my assignment, typed a couple of paragraphs, read it once more, opened my browser, got distracted, checked my emails, added items to my wish list, closed the browser, and read my assignment—again. Rinse and repeat to infinity and beyond until my vision was blurry.

My chair rolled backward, and a loud crack echoed through the air. My heart froze—without looking, I knew. I knew what I’d crushed, and exactly what I’d find shattered on the floor.

A glance down proved me right, as sand from the Board-Game-in-Progress sunk into the soft carpet. Even though I hadn’t worked on it in years, I dropped to my knees hoping I could salvage it. It was only one piece—the timer, easily replaceable, but my mom and I had made it together. Now all the broken bits of me were scattered all over the rug.

Cutting my finger on the sharp glass, I snapped upward. The bright red blood made my head spin. I hurried to the bathroom and rinsed my finger under cold water before assessing the damage. A Band-Aid should do the trick. I walked into the lounge where Shaun and Neema were going through her wedding Pinterest board. Catching a look at my hand, Neema stopped me and investigated.

“So, what time are you seeing Patrick tomorrow?” She studied the cut and then walked over to the kitchen where we kept the first-aid kit.

“Uhm, I don’t know.” I shrugged. “He said he’d let me know.”

She noted the lack of enthusiasm in my voice with a deep inhale. But was it worth being excited? Would Patrick come over or go straight to work?

Neema returned and wrapped up my finger. “I know!” She clapped her hands together, her eyes wide with mischief. “Seduce him! You’ve been together for years. Maybe it’s time to spice things up.”

“Seduction? Have you met me?” I gestured to the Chewbacca onesie I wore. “Not a strong point. Bad idea. Bad friend.”

Neema ran to her room and returned with a beige Burberry trench coat. “Okay, hear me out. He’s tired, he’s stressed, butyou love each other. So make it easy for him.” She put the coat on me as if I were a doll and tightened the belt. Staring down her long, straight nose, she lifted her brow. “You have a great waist and an excellent rack. Show up at his office wearing this, minus the onesie, and those shoes that I got you for your birthday that you haven’t worn.”

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