Page 49 of These Wicked Games
“What?” I pull my arm out of his grip. “Nothing. Just tired. Why?”
“I know this shit with Andre is unfair. I can’t imagine how this all feels. If you want to talk to someone, talk to me. You know I have your back. Always. About anything.” I know this, but still this is . . . this is different. How would I even begin to explain this when I don’t even know myself what’s happening.
The anger is still there. It’s there, and it’s as painful as ever. Now it hurts for different reasons. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” And that’s the truth, as vague as it is. I don’t know what’s going on. “I don’t know. When I do, you’ll be the first person to know.”
While I tried to delay going back, now I just want to escape my friend’s eyes. “Okay.” He surprises me, pulling me in for a hug. “I mean it, Oli. Anything. I’m here. You can tell me anything.” I open my mouth to speak, but he turns, leaving me there stunned. Does he know? Suspect? How would he even get there?
With Grey’s words in my mind I make my way back down to my room. I open the door slowly, expecting Andre to still be passed out. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed as I walk in, still in his briefs. My brain is clearly broken. My eyes go to the imprint behind the fabric.
Dammit.
There’s this awkward charge that flows between us and I don’t know what to do. Fighting with him is easy, fucking him was easy. I don’t know how to do this, whatever the fuck this part is. Maybe ifhe would just apologize, I could learn to forgive him, but not once has he ever. He’s always just denied it was him.
Maybe . . . it wasn’t.
Yep. Broken brain.
Whatever, I push that thought aside. I can’t deal with it right now. “Where did you go?” He looks at the bag I have. “Thought you freaked out again.”
“I got tired of you mouth breathing against my nipple so I went for a run.”Also, why were you even in my bed, I don’t ask. I realize I don’t even care. I should be way more bothered than I am. I don’t know how to feel. I just feel . . . I just feel . . .
Sad. Fuck, I hate this. I have no idea how to untangle the threads of our history. There’s a part of me that misses the people we were on the Titans. Then there’s the other part that reminds me it was all bullshit and he betrayed me.
What if he didn’t?
“Fuck off, I did not.” He did, but I don’t tell him that or about the slow caress of pleasure against my skin each time his warm breath blew across my chest. I don’t tell him how I wanted to pull him into me and drown in the warm spicy scent of him. Instead I reach into the bag, holding out the books to him. He takes them, his brows scrunching with adorable curiosity. “What’s this?”
“The secret Coke recipe.” He rolls his eyes, flipping through one book. “Thought you liked coloring?”
“You bought me this? Aw, Oli.”
“Don’t.”
He sobers, looking at the book, and a slow smile spreads on his face. “Thank you. I mean it. This is nice. I was thinking of buyingmore soon.” He flips through the curse word one, smiling wider. “Going to color in this one first.”
“Are you done with your other one?”
“No. Before I escaped my—” He looks up at me, snapping his mouth shut. “I mean when I moved, I left all my books at my house. I usually work in multiple at a time. Thank you.”
That’s not what he was going to say. Escaped? What is he talking about? “Sorry if you don’t like it.”
“No, this is perfect. I love animals.”
I peel off my hoodie, needing a shower. I watch the way his eyes drift over me, then I turn. “I do too.” I show him the tiger tattoo.
“Oh, believe me, I saw it.” He smirks. Something in the air becomes heavy, and his eyes drift down. I’ve always thought he had the prettiest eyes. In the privacy of my mind I’m not afraid to admit it. “Can we talk about—”
“No.” I can’t. Not yet. I still hate him. Or at least, I hate how much I’m starting to lose that fire. He betrayed me once and I can’t let him use me like that again. I’m scared. More than that, I can’t go through the pain of it again. We fucked around. Whatever this is between us is purely physical. “I can’t.”
“Fine.” He grabs the plastic bag. “Markers?”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted them too.”
“I use pencils in the books. The markers bleed sometimes. I like to shade too with the pencils, make different colors.” I grab the box, throwing them towards my suitcase. Maybe I’ll use them. Maybe I’ll give them to Grey’s niece. “Thank you, though. That was really . . . sweet.”
“I choked you with a belt. A peace offering.”
“I’m alright. I can talk just fine.”
