Page 86 of Playing Games

Everything between Blake and me was supposed to be for fun. It was never supposed to end inI love you.

I wouldn’t have agreed to that.

Love and I are a cosmic mix of oil and water.It’s emotion and I’m science. We can’t go together.

Right?

Eventually, I force myself out of bed and head into my bathroom. My head is pounding and my body aches, and I silently wonder if I’m starting to come down with one of those summer colds my brother Wes always tends to get this time of year.

After I brush my teeth and pull my hair up into a ponytail, I walk back into my bedroom, only a bra and underwear covering my body, and for reasons my mind can’t fathom, I end up grabbing Blake’s oversized T-shirt that I stole from his place a few weeks ago and tossing it over my head.

Instantly, I bury my nose into the neckline, allowing the scent of vanilla to fill my head. Vanilla is known to be a comforting scent that causes a physiological response of relaxation and calm, and I find that’s exactly what it is right now, too.It’s just for comfort. Doesn’t mean anything but that.

Phone in hand, I head into the kitchen and snag a bottle of water out of the fridge, hoping that a little hydration will ease my headache. I even take two ibuprofen for good measure.

But given the fact that Blake’s cologne is now following me around, my mind can’t stop thinking about him.What is he doing right now? Is he engaging in his normal routine of brushing his teeth and watching ESPN while he eats breakfast? Is he eating his usual protein-fueled breakfast of eggs, or hashe chosen to give in to his favorite guilty pleasure of Lucky Charms?

Is he mad at me?Does he hate me?

The mere idea of Blake hating me doesn’t make me feel good, and I grab my phone off my kitchen counter. But just before I can rewrite myAre you okay?text, my phone starts ringing in my hands.

Incoming Call Doctor Dad,flashes on the screen, and I answer it by the second ring.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Lex, I have some big news,” he says. “I think I can help Scottie. Actually, I know I can.”

“Help her, how?” I ask. “You think you can assist in her getting more nerve and muscle control?”

“More than that, Lex. I think I can help Scottie walk again.”

I stand there, stunned.

“Let me guess, you’re intrigued,” he says, and I don’t miss the confident but teasing tone in his voice.

“Incredibly so.”

He chuckles. “You got some free time today? Scottie will be coming in to discuss her case and treatment options at ten.”

“I can be there in an hour.”

Science. It’s comfortable. It’s what I know. The rest is much harder to figure out.

Sunday, August 3rd

Blake

Zip’s Diner is pretty slow for the Sunday lunch crowd, but that’s probably because most kids are still off campus. This place won’t start experiencing its normal hustle and bustle until classes begin at the end of the month.

Finn, Ace, and I sit at a booth in the back corner and start to dig into our meals of burgers and fries after Zip drops them off with his usual jolly grin.

Ace snags the ketchup bottle from the center of the table and squirts an ungodly amount onto the top of his burger. It’s so much fucking ketchup that when he smashes the bun on top, red liquid flows down the sides and onto his plate.

And when he takes a big-ass bite, ketchup drips onto his hands and face.

“Dude,” I say on a laugh. “That’s foul.”

“What?” Ace asks through a big smile, grabbing a napkin to swipe across his face as he does. “You got a problem with my love for ketchup?”

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