Page 67 of Playing with Fire

I groaned and shook my head.

My terrible play through the game left me feeling frustrated. I don't let girls distract me. They never get the chance to. The kiss exchange happens and then nothing else follows. The game I love remains my focus because she can't steal my attention.

She managed to distract me from the game, and I disliked that. I became angry with myself for allowing her entrance from the start. The fact she distracted me should have made me hate her but instead I hated my inability to feel hate towards her. I experienced annoyance and frustration while still holding back from hating her.

The kiss wouldn't stop running through my mind and that infuriated me.

Although I have kissed numerous girls throughout my life, I don't recall them in this way. I expect myself to be disgusted by it but I am not.

I don't feel disgusted but I'm uncertain if I enjoyed the experience. I shouldn't, but I really can't tell.

What is going on with me?

Bad things are going on with you. She's lying beside me on the bed wearing her pyjamas now, but I question whether she recalls what occurred earlier.

With each passing thought I have about the situation my certainty grows that she must remember what happened. The diner experience confirmed her cheeks were definitely red. She didn't appear ill, but I thought the heat or possibly makeup could explain her condition.

Looking back, I understand she probably lied during that table conversation. She could've lied about not knowing. She didn't need to lie because she had no memory of it at that moment. Once my memory returned, I started to think she was blushing.

My eyes shift from her face to the watch on my wrist. Suddenly my brain is overwhelmed with images while I experience an idiotic tingly feeling. A slight motion touches my lips before I shake my head.

No. We're not feeling a stupid fucking feeling. I see her clearly when Elijah gets up following Kylie's bathroom call. She is lying stomach-down while scrolling through her phone.

I only became aware of my hand touching her hair tie when the room was filled with a familiar snap. She rotated her head towards me just as I started to look away.

And it isn't perfect.

She remains unaware that I'm aware and every time our gazes meet, I relive the memory of holding her against the wall while my tongue invading her lips.

Jesus. I need to get a fucking grip.

I turn to face the wall. I search for any distraction that will help me stop thinking about her. The trip will happen, but she will join us every day. The bet represents my only remaining thought.

But that bet included her, too. And it was a dangerous fucking bet. I understood the risks of the bet immediately after creating it, but she agreed because she lacked awareness and her pride blinded her to danger.

That maybe it. The bet represents my escape from this situation. The situation improved when I accepted it as part of my betting strategy. The situation remained terrible, yet I had found a justification. I had a motive.

If you take the victory in this bet then all your emotional struggles will become irrelevant.

I'm probably fucking insane. I know that.

The high stakes of this bet require you to make the "enemy" fall for you. Easy.

Wrong. This is fucking bad. She's not going to make it easy. The known badness of my situation turns into something even worse when I think about losing. I don't lose. And I'm not about to.

I have three days down here which I can use to secure victory. Win the bet, lose the feelings. It's a win-win in my mind.

The challenge before me now requires figuring out exactly how I plan to accomplish this.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The following day went by quickly. After we got up, we ate breakfast downstairs before we climbed into the car. I examined the driver before entering the vehicle.

"Don't crash," I mutter.

"I won't crash." he's quick to answer.

"I don't believe you."

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