Page 65 of Wicked Little Game
It’s nothing like the kiss in the pool, nothing like what we did at the country club. There’s not the faintest trace of roughness. It’s a sweet, soft kiss, and somehow, that’s way more dangerous.
25
RUBY
We keep on sitting on that bench until it gets dark around us. Until even Harry and Sally go to sleep. It’s almost midnight when we drive back home.
I gladly would have spent the entire night out there, but I don’t think Samuel would have been too happy if he had to sleep on a park bench.
He lets me drive us home, probably too tired. Must be his age. I’m surprised to find out he seems to know traffic regulations, as long as he’s not the one behind the steering wheel.
“Midnight snack?” I ask jokingly as we walk back inside the house. I go over to the kitchen, looking for two bottles of water because with all the salty food I had, I already know that I’ll be horribly thirsty throughout the night.
As I look over to Samuel, ready to ask him if he also wants a bottle, I see him unbuttoning his shirt. He’s almost done, only two more buttons are closed on the lower end, andJesus.
I’m staring, not even trying to hide it. I grip the bottle in my hand so hard that it makes a creaking sound, which in return causes Samuel to realize what he’s doing.
“Ah, sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “I’m tired.”
“No need to apologize. I enjoyed the show,” I say with a grin as I walk towards him. “Do you want background music for the rest?”
“Dipshit,” he scoffs, putting his hand on my face to keep me from staring. “Gonna go to bed,” he says before he walks up the stairs, adding “Goodnight,” after he’s done yawning.
I should do the same, I think as I also go to my room. But as I lie in my bed, sleep doesn’t come. Not easy, not hard. It just doesn’t come. Not even with the TV running in the background, not even after I tried a few of those dumb falling asleephacks I see on social media from time to time.
At around 2am, I give up. Quietly, I walk down to the kitchen. Initially, I wanted to make myself a cup of tea, but then I look over at the bar. I’m not a fan of drinking on my own, and maybe Samuel is still awake to join me for a little late-night drink.
I’m too lazy to make us proper drinks and he prefers his booze straight from the bottle either way, so I just bring a full one back up with me.
Somehow, I hesitate as I stand in front of his door. I’m weirdly anxious, but I decide to ignore it as I knock on his door. Softly at first, but after I don’t get a reaction, I knock harder.
“What?” he asks through the closed door. He sounds tired, but not like I just woke him up.
“Can’t sleep,” I say as I walk into his room. He splayed out on the bed, still dressed, minus the dress shirt.
Someone should build a statue for him. I’d worship it. Would probably build a fucking Samuel-altar in front of it when I have a weak moment. Which I’m having right now, I realize.
“Me neither,” he says, shuffling upward on the bed until his back is leaning against the headrest.
I lift the bottle, and he hums in satisfaction as he takes itout of my hand. He has a couch in his room but sitting over there would be a bit inconvenient for me, so I look at him and down on the mattress over and over while I wait for him to tell me to sit down.
He takes a big sip from the bottle before he even does so much as to really acknowledge me.
“God, stop looking at me like that. Come here, but keep your distance,” he groans as he moves over on the bed.
I try to hide my excitement as I sit down on the mattress, adjusting a few of his pillows so that I have it comfortable.
He looks a bit confused, but still lets me do the same on his side before he lets his back fall against the now pillow-padded headboard again with a tired sigh.
I take the bottle from him, forcing down a big sip. I brought it back up here to get drunk after all. And the more alcohol I get down with one sip, the fewer chances it gives Sam to make fun of me for pulling a face because I don’t like the taste.
Should have brought strawberry vodka or something.
We talk for a while—well, it’s mostly me telling him things and him replying with grunts in varying degrees of consciousness, but it’s still better than staring at the ceiling over at my room. Besides, I like his company way too much.
“What’s that?” With a laugh, I grab his arm, examining the hair tie around his wrist. It’s definitely one of mine. I just wonder where he found it, and why the hell he’s wearing it.
“You left it in the car. Wanted to give it back to you but I forgot about it, so yeah, here.” He moves his arm over to me, almost slapping me in the process while I can’t help but smile.
