Page 30 of Wicked Games We Play

Once I had ripped my tee shirt over my head and tossed my jeans aside, I dropped onto my disheveled bedding in nothing more than my briefs and swiped the remote from my bedside table. Although I subscribed to several streaming services, I turned on my dusty DVD player and waited for the DVD’s menu to pop up on the screen before hitting PLAY on my all-time favorite movie—Heat. Who doesn’t love Robert De Niro as a criminal and Al Pacino as a cop? I got comfortable and threw the top sheet over my body, up to my waist.

It wasn’t long before my thoughts drifted back to Rosie’s instruction to make Lily jealous. But how? I reached for my phone and pulled up Rosie’s name, sending over a quick message.

Me: So this jealousy angle. Any suggestions how to execute it?

My phone pinged with a response immediately.

Rosie: Are my Louboutins still there?

Me: Your what?

Rosie: My heels, Noah. My black heels.

Rosie was a fucking hurricane, leaving destruction in the form of her belongings everywhere she went. I had learned to just store her things in my hall closet to give to her for the next time she stopped by. Her best friend,ourbest friend, Elle, had a designated basket at her house for Rosie. For the longest time I laughed at it, but immediately understood once our friendship really came to.

Me: In the closet.

Rosie: Grab them and toss them next to the side of your bed. Fuck up your bed so it looks like you’ve been rolling around naked with a hot bitch. Snap a pic. Send the pic. Wait for her rage in a fit of jealousy.

Me: You’re insane.

Rosie: You love me.

Pushing the top sheet aside, I chuckled as I got out of bed and trudged down the hallway to grab Rosie’s heels. It took me a couple of tosses, but the shoes finally landed somewhat close together next to the side of the bed. The sheet hung off it and draped onto the floor, making it look just as Rosie had said to make it look. I was pretty damn proud of myself on the way it turned out, so I snapped the picture and sent it to Lily before I climbed back into bed and resumed the movie.

I knew I could always count on Rob and Al to keep me company when I needed it most.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Icried.

Sat here alone in the dark and cried. I hadn’t been expecting after several days of silence to be tossed back into our game, but there I was, curled up in my favorite chair under a plush blanket, with silent tears streaming down my face.

A photo came through to my text messages, taken in what I assume was Noah’s dimly lit bedroom. A gorgeous pair of black patent leather heels—Louboutins, I could tell by the red bottoms—on the floor with part of the sheet and comforter. The bed was a mess.

A complete, fucked so hard that the bedsheets fell off the bed mess.

The oversensitive vessel guarded by my rib cage slivered off into pieces. When exactly had I let him in enough to bring me actual pain? My heart hurt. It was heavy. Achy.

Did he seriously just fuck someone else?

Would he do that to me? It’s not like I didn’t deserve it. I’d been pushing him away and refusing to give him what he wanted, but I also haven’t turned him down once when offering him my body.Heturned me down. Would he really turn around and climb into bed with someone else?

But wasn’t that what I had also been trying to do?

My stomach turned at the thought: reminding me why I’d been resisting so hard, for so long.

The strings are when someone gets hurt. I didn’t want stings. I explicitly said that, yet somehow Noah had weaseled his way in.

And now it hurts.

* * *

“Lily,you need to get out of the house. You don’t have Jordan this weekend and sitting around sulking about Noah won’t do anything but bring you down more,” Alana lectured, her harsh tone warning me she was prepared to launch into a tangent if I didn’t agree to going out.

A breath of irritation left my body. “I know. Okay. Fine. I’ll go, but I don’t want to be out all night. I’m just not totally feeling it, okay?”

“Yep!” she squealed. “Go get ready. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

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