Page 11 of Hate the Game
R: We’ll see.
S: How come you are so talkative over text?
R: How come you’re an asshole to me and an airhead with everyone else?
I sat up and bit my lip. Before I could rethink it too much I opened my camera and took a picture of myself looking every bit the airhead he thought I was. Head tilted, hair wrapped around my finger, eyes comically wide and vacant, I looked like an idiot. I added a caption and sent it before I could second guess myself.
S: This is just who I am, soldier boy.
R: If only you were as stupid as you can make yourself look.
S: Now who’s the asshole?
R: Always me. Sometimes you. I like your shirt, by the way.
I looked back at the picture I’d sent and my face nearly boiled itself off from how embarrassed I was. I hadn’t looked at the bottom of the stupid thing and it was clear I was topless. No details showed but it was provocative enough to horrify me.
S: Delete that.
R: Or I could just return the favor.
I froze. Did he really mean…? Did I want a shirtless picture of Ryder? Fuck. I did. I really, really did. It was sick and twisted of me but I couldn’t deny that he was built like a god and made my mouth water.
R: You just have to say you want it, Sav.
I stared down at my phone and held it with shaking hands. I couldn’t admit that I wanted a picture of him. That would be losing the war before the battle had even been fought.
R: Send me a real picture of you and I won’t make you admit you want it.
S: That was a real picture of me.
R: You know what I mean. I want a picture of the asshole who threw water on me.
I laughed and even that felt shaky. I was a fool but I told myself it was all in the name of the game. Maybe I would get under Ryder’s skin in a different way, one that didn’t require me to act so stupid. I sat up, clutched my pillow to my chest, and snapped a picture. I only checked it to make sure I wasn’t exposing myself before sending it. A few seconds later I received a photo of Ryder and my tongue nearly rolled out of my head.
He was in bed with one arm folded under his head. His hair was still wet and he was shirtless. The angle he’d taken the picture from made me feel like I was kneeling between his legs, looking up at him. Blood flooded my cheeks as I studied each ridge of muscle on display.
R: Remember to shower at your own time.
S:Youshower atyourown time. Now leave me alone, I’m going to sleep.
R: One more picture?
S: Careful, soldier boy, I’m going to start thinking you find me cute or something.
R: Puppies are cute. You, Savannah? You’re something entirely different.
My stomach and heart lodged somewhere in my throat. I knew I shouldn’t but I took one more picture and sent it to him. It was more intimate, more close up. My slight smile and heavy eyes made it feel like something more than it was.
As soon as I sent it I felt a wave of vulnerability and groaned. I really was as stupid as I was pretending to be.
R: You look like you’d be into cuddling.
S: Don’t worry, soldier boy. If the need hits I’m sure there’s someone I could wrangle up who wouldn’t hate the idea of cuddling with me.
R: I’m closer.
S: Goodnight, Ryder.
