Page 80 of Wicked Little Game
It’s strangely wholesome how he shares something with me that must be important to him and I’m pretty sure that I would have zoned out twenty minutes ago with every other guy, but with him, it’s different.
Everything is different with him. Better, and I hate that I won’t allow myself to get used to it.
Someone gets shot on screen and a thought shoots through my mind.
Sam is visibly startled as I jump up from his lap and dash away to my room.
“Got something for you,” I yell back downstairs as I enter my room to search for a box that arrived a few days ago. A few days after we fucked, precisely on the day this house of cards tumbled straight to the ground.
Maybe this is my weird way of showing him I really like him. Either that or it’s completely selfish because I want him to have something from me if he doesn’t take the bracelet.
At least dropping my last name was good for anything as I called auction house after auction house, even a few private collectors in search of a special something for Sam.
He tells me to slow down as he sees me running down the stairs and I follow his command. I don’t want a fresh injurynow that my hand doesn’t hurt anymore. He did a good job stitching it up.
“I almost forgot about it because I was so mad at you,” I say as I shove the wooden box towards him. I’m kneeling on the couch, almost bouncing with excitement because if I love one thing, it’s giving people presents.
Reluctantly, he inspects the box. Nothing could spoil what’s inside, especially after I was smart enough to leave the tag that came attached to it in my room.
“What is it?” he asks, and I really can’t blame him for being hesitant. My last present caused quite a bit of drama between us.
“Open it,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
His eyes widen as he sees the handle of a gun and I can’t keep quiet any longer.
“It’saHeroWaltherPKK,” I blurt out, so quickly that he probably couldn’t understand it either way, “the original one they used while filming GoldenEye.”
“No. Ruby, no. You’re fucking insane,” he mutters as he takes the gun out of the box with uttermost care. As if he’s just handling the British Crown Jewels. Well, for him, those two things are probably equally important.
“I’m happy you like it,” I whisper, snuggling up against him.
30
SAMUEL
She’s perfect. She’s sweet and funny and knows me so fucking well after such a short time and I—no. I don’t even allow myself to finish this thought. Those three words I promised to never say again threaten to leave me, but I keep my mouth shut.
I’m probably just freaking out because of her, absolutely overboard, present, and I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret. I already hurt her too much.
We didn’t speak about what's going to happen after she gets the information I need out of her father, but I’m pretty sure we’re on the same terms.
There’s no reason to cause any more confusion, especially not now that she’s finally back to her usual self. At least mostly, because while she tries to play over it, I still see the hurt in her face.
Can hear it in every word she says, behind each of her giggles. Can feel it in the way she clings to me.
But I don’t say anything. I just play along with her act, because it’s easier this way. And because I don’t want to deal with the truth behind all of this.
“Can I hold it?”
I hand her the gun, watching her as she aims at the TV. Thank God that thing isn’t loaded, because I don’t trust my little firecracker around loaded weapons.
“You should teach me how to shoot,” she suggests, and I sincerely doubt that this is a good idea.
“Definitely not with this one,” I say, as if she just asked me if she could sketch over the Mona Lisa. “It’s for looking, not for shooting.”
“Probably not even for touching,” I add as I carefully take the gun out of her hand and put it back in the box.
“I know you have another gun. Almost shot me with that fucking thing, remember?”
