Page 67 of Playing Flirty

“But for the rest of them… they don’t care either. I keep my distance, and there’s little to no consequences.” He finished with a shrug.

“Games have no real consequences,” I said, almost to myself. “It’s why I love them. I get to take risks and quite literally roll the dice. Whichever way it turns out, I still have fun.”

William stopped the car outside the neon-lit café and smiled at me with gorgeous eyes. “That’s the same reason I play. Except instead of dice, I know that if I mess up or die, or kill someone, they’ll respawn or restart or whatever. I can’t really hurt anyone there.”

The pain etched in his words had me undoing my seat belt and leaning over to place a soft kiss on his unsmiling cheek.

He twisted his head and whispered, “I’ll have you know, I brushed my teeth before leaving.” Then he captured my mouth in a kiss and brought his hand to my chin, keeping me there a minute longer.

William made it feel as though he appreciated every part of me I gave him. As though a kiss were something more than lips touching.

Round 22

With William in his pajamas, and me in formal beige pants and white blouse, we must have looked like quite the pair walking into the café.

I set my laptop on my regular table, and William’s brows drew close.

“I want to check my emails,” I said.

“You can work. I’ll play.” He smiled his teasing smile that always gave my stomach tingles.

I expected a kiss or a wandering hand, but William always surprised me. Instead of acting on the mischief I’d noted in his words, he walked up to the arcade machines and started playing Puzzle Bobble.

Technically, I should have asked Mr. Markham for permission to take sick leave, or at the very least made him aware I was leaving. So I opened a new email and typed in his address, but my fingers froze over each key.

I didn’t want to.

Ahead of me, William stood looking too large beside the kid playing on the machine next to him. I left my laptop on the table and ordered both our coffees before joining him.

He lowered his glance beneath his long dark lashes. “Are you coming to see my strategy?”

“How? How is your score so incredibly high? I was number one for years, William. Years.”

He only chuckled, making me want to growl. He exited the game and stepped aside, gesturing for me to play. “Let’s see how you do it.”

I took my place and rested the fingers of one hand over bright red and yellow buttons, while I held the joystick with my other.

Admittedly, there wasn’t much strategy to the game—only patience and a fairly good aim. But with each falling bubble, each flash of additional points, my body found peace and the adrenaline of the day’s events seeped out of me.

“Mr. Markham called me beautiful,” I said as a new round pixelated onto the screen. My throat was tight as I spoke, feeling stupid saying it out loud. “But it’s just a compliment, and I can’t figure out why it makes me feel the way it does. You’ve complimented me, and it’s different. Even before this, before… us…”

The words fell from my mouth as they often did when I was playing a game. I think it stemmed from my early years when my mother gave me a toy before asking a series of questions she worried would make me uncomfortable.

“Maybe I’m the problem,” I continued. “I overthink. I overdo. I’m a lot. I’m too much. I know that, and maybe this is one of those moments.”

A deep and almost animalistic huff pushed out of William. “Rose,” he started, and when he used my name, it jolted something strong in me. “You are a lot. And you do overthink, and overdo, and the rest of it, but you are never too much. And youarenevera problem. I will happily tell anyone who thinks, or dares insinuate it, that they’re wrong.”

I kept my focus on the game, even though I could feel my heartbeat in the palm of my hand as it shifted the joystick to the left.

“Compliments are meant to make someone feel good, and when I compliment you, Rose, I mean it. Youarebeautiful. That is a fact, rather than someone’s opinion. But if it’s leaving you feeling the way you do now, then it wasn’t just a compliment. It was said with an underlying motive—a hope of something coming from it—and that is not okay.”

I dropped the game and wrapped my arms around his waist, pushing my face into the soft T-shirt he wore. His strong and sure hand slid to the back of my neck as he leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

I stayed there for a few deep breaths, and his grip never wavered. I released him after taking one last inhale of his scent, making a mental note to buy lavender and pine essential oils, shampoos, conditioners, soaps, laundry detergents, et cetera.

“Have you considered resigning?”

“I can’t afford to leave my job. Not only because of finances, but it would make me so far behind on my Life Goals.”

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