Page 42 of Wicked Little Game
“Sometimes I was allowed to go to one of the local schools if we stayed somewhere long enough, but I was mostly homeschooled. The older I got, the more I preferred it that way. A lot of kids at school were weird to me. I think they were jealous because I got to travel so much. You always have one or two mean kids in a class and when they decide they don’t want you there, it’s difficult to get accepted into set groups. Especially when you’re the weirdo who’s only part of the class for a few months.” I look up at the sky, ignoring the uneasy feeling in my stomach.
“It’s easy to be jealous when you don’t know the full story. Yes, living in fancy hotels and seeing so much of the world is nice, in a way, but moving away as soon as you make friends isn’t.”
“Don’t you think you could have had it worse?” Samuel asks, taking a drag from his cigarette.
“See, that’s exactly what I mean,” I say as I splash a bit more water in his direction. “Where did you go on vacation when you were a kid?”
“We spent most summers with my grandma. Went camping once or twice.”
I’m surprised that he really answered my question.
“And now? Do you get to travel around as a mercenary?”
He’s quiet for a while and just when I thought the one sentence was the most I got out of him today, he speaks up.
“Sometimes.”
Wow, for him, that qualifies as being really talkative.
“What was your favorite country so far?”
“Enough questions. And it was Italy. I liked the food.”
“Yeah, that’s understandable,” I chuckle. We are both quiet for a while until I feel the need to break the silence again.
“When I had my first real boyfriend, my father forced his family to move away just so that I couldn’t see him anymore.”
“Excessive.”
“A bit. Bought me my first Birkin afterward.”
“Aren’t those bags fucking expensive?”
“They aren’t exactly cheap,” I say with a laugh, surprised that he knows what I’m talking about. He doesn’t seem like a guy who gives a damn about designer brands, or fashion in general.
It makes me wonder if a girl told him about it. Jealousy spreads in my stomach and I try to ignore how ridiculous this thought process is.
“I have a small collection by now. It’s my father’s way of apologizing, it seems.”
Or his only way of showing affection, but again, I don’t say that. Most of them are really pretty, but I don’t enjoy wearing them. They remind me of all the things he put me through, so I keep the metaphorically blood-stained handbags in the back of my walk-in closet.
“How is your dad able to afford all those things? I mean, this house sure wasn’t cheap. He never told me what exactly he does for a living, only mentioned something about having a company that does international trade.”
“International trade? That’s how he called it?” I can’t help but laugh at my father’s way of twisting the truth.
“Why?”
For the first time today, I keep my mouth shut. I don’t know how much I can tell Samuel. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I remember how he snooped around while my father was here. And he’s still mostly a stranger, after all. While I hate my father, I don’t want to get myself in trouble by saying too much.
“Nothing, forget what I said. It’s an inside joke between me and him,” I answer as I turn around onto my back again.
“I ordered some new bikinis last night.” I slide my hands over my body until I reach the side ties of my bikini bottoms. I pull them up a bit to check how much of a tan I’ve gotten so far. “You’ll like them.”
Samuel groans, and the sound sends tingles right to my stomach. I’m afraid I’m developing a kink for annoyed men because of him.
As elegantly as possible, I slide down from the inflatable and swim closer to him.
“I meant it when I said I would drown you,” he threatens as he notices me. Like always, I ignore it. Maybe I got too much sun, or maybe I’m just too desperate for him.
