Page 18 of Huge Games

Friends who've seen each other naked.

Friends who've been joined in the most intimate of ways.

We can do that, can't we?

6

TRAVIS

When Celine's message pops up on my phone screen, I frown. It's been three days since the weird night at Molly's motel, and I was sure she'd forgotten about our strange agreement.

Hey Travis. Can we hook up later for our 'fake date'?

I place my phone back onto my desk without answering, return to the email I received from a recruiter, and attach my resume. I need to get a job, and messing about with fake dates with a girl immature enough to think that seeking revenge on a cheating ex is a good idea should be the lowest thing on my priority list.

However, as I try to focus on scanning through companies who are currently recruiting for roles I'm qualified for, my eyes keep straying back to the phone and Celine's message.

I agreed to help her out. I could explain it as a moment of weakness by blaming my exhaustion and the pressure of two other men agreeing to the same thing, but that isn't the whole story.

Celine might be doing something crazy, but I get her motivation. When a person you think you can trust cheats on you, a part of you changes forever. The trust you give easily becomes something you place in a cage. The simple act of allowing feelings to develop becomes a road of jagged hot coals and exploding mines.

You want revenge, but nothing can make it any better.

Revenge wastes emotions, but I don't know Celine well enough to tell her to just leave it alone. Looking back at a burned-out relationship won't make her happy. Facing the truth that she trusted wrongly and wasted a load of time on that douchebag, Eddie, isn't something she's ready for.

I feel so far beyond this emotional immaturity. I walked away with my head held high when I faced the same situation. It's what Celine should do, but only a friend can deliver that advice, and we're not friends.

But I do like her, and I do feel sorry for her. My sister Gabriella would expect me to do whatever it takes to help a friend.

It's the way our momma taught us to live our lives.

Picking up my phone, I tap out a quick response.Tonight's fine. Where?

She responds almost immediately with the name of a club. Shit. I don't want to go to that kind of place with an almost stranger. The music's too loud, making it impossible to talk. I can already feel the awkward silence stretching between us, or worse, having to dance.

I'm not a dancer. At least, I don't enjoy doing it in public. I have rhythm, so that isn't the problem. It's more that I find the whole ritual of strangers moving around in the dark weird.

I type out three messages suggesting other places, deleting them repeatedly. She obviously has a good reason for suggesting the bar she has. In the end, I agree to collect her from her dorm at ten pm and then rest back in mychair, stretching my back and dreading the night already.

A girl is waiting outside Celine's dorm as I approach, dressed in a gorgeous dark blue dress and strappy silver heels. With long dark hair set into loose curls, she's a knockout. I dial Celine's number as the girl approaches my car, placing her hand on the handle and pulling the door open. I'm about to tell her she's got the wrong car when I realize that it's Celine.

"Your hair," I gasp. She looks so frickin' different that I'm staring with my mouth open.

She slides into the passenger seat, closes the door, and fastens her seatbelt. "You like it?"

"It's…"

"You don't like it?" She frowns as I try to find the right words. This is some thin ice I'm skating on.

"You look good both ways. It's just a radical change."

"Radical changes are good for the soul."

I get that. I left Germany because I needed that kind of radical change. If dying her hair is what Celine needs to feel good, then all power to her. I just liked her red curls. They made her unique. Now she looks like half the girls out there.

I put the car into drive and flip it around so we're heading in the right direction.

"You're listening to The Eagles."

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