Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4)

by Elizabeth Hayley

  It didn’t make her a bad person. Mainly because I wasn’t sure she knew what it felt like to really love someone. Or to be loved, for that matter. And I couldn’t help but wonder if I was destined to follow in her footsteps.

  I’d been lost in my own thoughts as the girls shared advice their moms had given them, everything from don’t sweat the small stuff because it’s all small stuff to more sentimental advice for the future like everything your child says is important.

  “What about you, Tay?” Sophia asked. “What advice do you think your mom would give me before I marry Drew?”

  I thought back to the random shit my mom had told me over the years, but I couldn’t really remember her giving me much actual advice when it came to relationships. At least she knew her wheelhouse.

  “The only thing I remember her ever saying about marriage was never marry a man you wouldn’t divorce.”

  All of us burst out laughing, myself included.

  “Only your mom,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “I guess it makes sense, though.”

  “It makes zero sense,” I told her.

  “It does. Like there are so many combative relationships out there between exes, and that affects the kids. But if you think about how your future husband would act during a situation like that, it can say a lot about who they are as a person.”

  “Huh.” I hadn’t thought about it like that because I’d never actually given much thought to it to begin with.

  “So would you divorce Drew?” Aamee asked.

  “Yeah,” Sophia said. “I think I would. I mean, I hope we don’t, but Drew’s a good guy. What about Brody?”

  “I’d divorce his ass no problem.” She took a sip of her drink as everyone stared at her. “In the context we’re discussing, of course.”

  I thought about Brad and what a piece of shit he was. We hadn’t even been together long, and our “breakup” had resulted in something that caused me to move. Definitely not someone I’d want to marry, let alone divorce.

  But then my mind drifted to Ransom—the guy who loved working with kids, offered to help someone he barely knew move apartments and then put their furniture together. The guy who worked for everything he’d gotten in life and was appreciative of the little that was given to him. He and Brad weren’t the same person. Not even a little bit. How did I not take a chance on a guy like that?

  But before I could really formulate any solid thoughts about the situation, Aamee turned up the music that had been playing softly on the TV in the background, drowning out any more images of Ransom or us together. And maybe that was for the best right now.

  “Okay, now enough serious talk,” Aamee said. “Let’s have some fun!”

  R A N S O M

  I rarely had a gig booked with another guy, but tonight I’d be teaming up with Darius. He’d been stripping for longer than I had and had taught me the entire Magic Mike routine one afternoon with the promise that it would make me some extra cash, especially with the thirty-something crowd.

  He was about that age himself and, to my knowledge, had no plans of settling down anytime soon. Never hiding the fact that he was a stripper pretty much ensured he only hooked up with women who wanted something casual too. It was actually a genius idea. Too bad I didn’t have the same goal.

  “So what’da you know about this crew?” Darius asked. He fixed his vest in the elevator mirror and rubbed a hand over his short beard.

  “Not any more than you do.”

  “Well,” he said with a slap to my shoulder, “hopefully it’s a bunch of drunk college girls and not a group of middle-aged moms, right? That eye all healed up?” He lowered his sunglasses so he could inspect my face.

  “Funny. And having the party be college girls doesn’t exactly guarantee our safety, you know.”

  “It’s not my safety I’m worried about. Been doin’ this for a decade and haven’t gotten a scratch.”

  The elevator stopped at the eighth floor, and an elderly couple boarded.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” the man said, and his wife smiled sweetly at us.

  “Don’t you both look handsome,” she said, referring to our suits.

  “Thank you,” we both said back with a nod like we were Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones getting ready to fight some aliens.

  It occurred to me that I should’ve pointed out that we were going up, not down, but it was too late for them to exit, and I felt like an asshole pointing it out now. Maybe they’d meant to go up.

  “Were you just at the wedding downstairs?” the woman asked.

  “Oh.” Feeling guilty about what I had to say next caused my throat to feel clogged, so I cleared my throat before fully answering. “Yes. A friend of ours was the groom.”

  “Isn’t that nice.”

  Thankfully, the elevator stopped at the eleventh floor, which was where we’d be getting off. “Well, you know what they say,” Darius said as we stepped off. “Always a groomsman, never a groom.”

  “If only that were true,” the man grumbled.

  The woman swatted her palm at him, and I couldn’t help but be impressed with how little he flinched. Then right before the doors closed completely, I heard her say, “Oh, shit. We’re going up.”

  “You just broke up a marriage for something no one even says,” I joked.

  “I do. I basically live by that saying.”

  “That doesn’t mean it actually is a saying.”

  He ignored me and instead asked, “What’s the room number?”

  “1144.”

  “Allow me,” he said when we arrived, his body helping to frame the door as he leaned against it. “Def college chicks. I hear the music.”

  A few seconds later, a tall brunette wearing a gold halter top with sequins answered the door.

  “Woohoo! Well, damn,” she said, dragging out the second word into two syllables. “Come on in.”

  I followed Darius into the hotel room until I heard a squeal that I recognized immediately.

  “You hired strippers!” The voice had come from my left, almost behind me, but I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

  Sophia. Shit, shit, shit.

  “I might have to leave,” I whispered to Darius.

  “What? Why? You can’t leave.”

  “I know some of these girls.”

  “Nice. They’re hot!” He’d already begun taking his jacket off and tossing it to the couch.

  I felt like my stomach was going to come out through my mouth. I hated that some of my friends might find out I was a stripper, especially like this. I wondered if Aamee was here because I knew she was home and said she’d had some sorority thing to go to tonight.

  “Stop being weird, dude. These girls want it.”

  With a sigh, I began dancing too, trying my best to imagine I wasn’t where I was and doing what I was doing in front of who I was doing it in front of.

  And there’s Aamee.

  She looked absolutely thrilled after locking eyes with me for a moment, and then she immediately began texting. My guess was that it was Brody she was contacting. It was like one of those nightmares where you were in a crowded room and you recognized some of the people in it, and then you looked down and you were completely naked.

  Though I wasn’t completely naked…yet. I tried my best not to look at Sophia or Aamee as I removed my white shirt, leaving just the bow tie around my neck and my tear-away pants. Darius was already grinding on the girl who’d opened the door for us, which I hoped didn’t mean I’d have to give Sophia a lap dance because that shit definitely wasn’t happening. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

  Until my eyes locked with Taylor’s. I had no idea when she’d sat down at the kitchen counter. I hadn’t noticed her until now, but now that I had, I couldn’t stop looking at her.

  “Don’t let my presence stop you.”

  Her comment made me realize I’d completely stopped moving. Unfortunately, I wasn’t participating in some sort of freeze dance game. Apparen
tly the game was more like some sort of fucked-up version of Jumanji I couldn’t figure out how to escape.

  “No. Seriously. Don’t stop. I’m enjoying the show.” Her legs were crossed, and she gestured toward me with her hand. “Please. Continue.”

  Was she serious? The other day she’d pulled away during a kiss that would be burned in my memory like it’d been done with a flamethrower. And now she was leaning on the counter of a hotel room during what looked like Sophia’s bachelorette party, telling me to continue stripping like it didn’t fucking bother her?

  Her raised eyebrows told me that, yes, that was exactly what she was saying.

  The next ten minutes or so were a blur, like I’d somehow been a victim of PTSD that was causing temporary amnesia. I had vague memories of some of the girls screaming, and of Darius giving Sophia a lap dance, but I didn’t dare look at Taylor again because nothing good could come from her knowing this was my job.

  Or one of them.

  How did someone reconcile a person who helped kids out and stripped on the side? I knew it made no sense, and no matter how I explained it, it wouldn’t make any sense to her either. Not to mention I’d kept it from her. Lied to her, technically.

  So I gathered my clothes, thinking I’d put them on in the hallway because this hotel suite was an escape room I needed to get the hell out of. Against his pleading, I told Darius I was leaving and went toward the door as quickly as possible.

  I barely made it to the elevator when I heard Taylor call my name.

  I’d at least gotten my pants on, though they weren’t completely snapped on the side yet. My shirt was draped over my shoulder, and my back was still turned toward her as I pushed the button for the elevator.

  Thankfully, the doors opened soon, and I climbed on as soon as the occupants exited.

  “Wait. Ransom!” she called. “You’re just gonna leave like that?”

  She hadn’t gotten on the elevator, but was waiting in the hall, staring at me as the doors began to close.

  I maintained eye contact with her as long as I could until both of us looked too sad for me to continue. And as I let my head drop, the doors began to close. Don’t be a pussy. Against my instincts, I brought my hand out to catch the door. Taylor was right. I couldn’t just leave like this.

  “I’m a stripper,” I forced out like a fucking moron.

  “Yeah, I pretty much caught on to that part.” She stepped closer to me but didn’t enter the elevator, which I was thankful for because the idea of being in a confined space with her right now seemed like more of a risk than I was willing to take. “Why?”

  The question sounded intimate somehow, quiet in a way I hadn’t expected.

  “I need the money,” I said with a small shrug.

  “Again, I figured as much. But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like I won a Nobel Peace Prize or something. Taking your clothes off for a couple bucks isn’t exactly something you brag about to everyone.”

  She was quiet for a moment, a few shallow breaths filling her lungs before she stepped onto the elevator with me. The proximity felt too close in a way that somehow made me both uncomfortable and calm as the doors slid closed and she pushed a button.

  “No,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her voice was low, and I wanted to take the sadness out of it. Sighing heavily, I tried to think of the best way to explain why I hadn’t told her, but the truth was I had no idea. I’d convinced myself early on that people wouldn’t accept it—that Taylor wouldn’t accept it. And if she didn’t accept that part of me, she’d never be able to accept more of me, let alone all.

  But none of that was true. I’d revealed so much more to her. Parts of my childhood even people who knew me for years didn’t know. She’d accepted all that with zero judgment, so why would she judge something so insignificant as this?

  “I honestly have no idea,” I conceded. And because I couldn’t help breaking the tension with a joke, even if it was a poor one, I said, “Maybe I was worried you’d ask me to take my clothes off all the time or something. I don’t know.” I waved my hand at her like the thought was ridiculous.

  Surprisingly, her lips curled up into the beginning of a smile. I wished I could savor that moment forever—that exact instant when we could both feel the air in the room thin enough for each of us to breathe comfortably again.

  “Well, it certainly wouldn’t make sense for me to pay you to keep them on.”

  I wanted to ask if she liked what she saw and what happened the other night. I didn’t, though. I couldn’t. So I stayed silent, hoping she would speak before I had to. I was scared to say the wrong thing as much as I was scared not to say anything.

  And as the atmosphere around us seemed to heat up, I had to resist the urge to tell her everything I wanted to say: that I was sorry I didn’t tell her the truth, sorry I’d lied to her all this time about something that in hindsight didn’t matter. I had to resist the urge to tell her how beautiful she looked tonight, the soft curls of her blond hair falling perfectly around her face. And I wanted to tell her how I missed the feel of her skin—that it was all I could think about since I’d touched her.

  But still I let the silence stand between us until I knew she could feel it too.

  Matt once told me to listen more than I spoke because sometimes saying too much meant you really said nothing at all. Some moments, he said, were meant to exist in the in-between.

  Besides, if you let the silence continue long enough, usually the other person felt the need to fill it because you knew something they didn’t. There was a reason there was music between verses or a timeout after the two-minute warning when your team was down by four.

  The in-betweens were where the real action happened. And sometimes all you needed to do was hold on and wait for it.

  Or not, I thought as the elevator descended quietly. I stepped off when the doors opened to the lobby, giving Taylor a slight nod goodbye.

  And as I walked off, I heard it.

  “Don’t go.”

  “I can’t go back up there,” I told her before turning around to meet her gaze.

  “It’s your job. I’ll leave.”

  “I’m not gonna show back up in front of Sophia and Aamee. It was bad enough they saw me earlier.”

  Rubbing her eyes, she seemed to be thinking hard about what to say next. Like she was weighing her words before they left her mouth.

  “This is all so complicated,” she said, looking at me again.

  “Darius will still give me my half if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “That’s not…what I’m worried about. I mean, I’m glad you’ll get paid. That’s not what I meant. I just meant… God, I don’t know what I meant.”

  “Why don’t you take a minute to think about it?”

  “I have. I’ve taken like a million minutes, and I can’t make sense of any of it.”

  “Make sense of what?” I tried to think about what she could be talking about because we’d already discussed the whole stripper thing.

  “The other night. My feelings for you. I can’t… There’s a reason I couldn’t…”

  Watching her stumble over her words made me want to close the small space between us and wrap her up in a hug, but I knew better than to touch her without knowing how she’d feel about it.

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not.” She shook her head. “Nothing about me is okay right now. And I can’t let my problems become someone else’s. I’m sure you think I’m crazy.” She almost laughed, but the sadness that seemed to be stuck in her throat prevented it from fully forming.

  “I don’t think you’re crazy,” I promised her.

  “Really?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

  “I’m standing in a hotel lobby wearing nothing but rip-off pants, so I don’t really think I have room to judge anyone’s sanity.”

  This time she laughed, and I never thought such a small sound cou
ld make me so fucking happy.

  “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Now or ever. Not if you don’t want to.”

  Her eyes closed, and I could sense the relief in them somehow. Like she’d been holding this weight since the night we’d kissed, and I’d finally allowed her to put it down.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For not getting pissed. Some guys would’ve… Well, I don’t wanna think about what some guys would’ve done.”

  “Then don’t,” I told her. We stared at each other for a few more moments before I spoke again. “I’m gonna go. You go back to Sophia’s party and enjoy Darius and a few more drinks.”

  I wasn’t sure what made me tell her to “enjoy” Darius, and it was clear she wasn’t sure either. But both of us knew better than to bring it up. We weren’t anything.

  Or really we just weren’t anything together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  T A Y L O R

  I closed my eyes as I sat in the empty coffee shop near my apartment and tried to visualize myself doing something—anything—fun.

  Well, maybe that wasn’t fair. Forensic psychology was probably a lot of fun for the students who were meeting with the professor in the classroom. But it definitely lost some of its luster online. Without the ability to discuss and debate case studies in real time, the topic simply wasn’t as fascinating as I’d thought it would be when I signed up for it.

  Oh well. There was nothing to do but get through it at this point. And it wasn’t like I wasn’t learning anything. I just wasn’t learning it as dynamically as I wished I were.

  I sighed, reprimanding myself mentally for being negative. I’d woken up in a funk that I hadn’t been able to shake all day. I’d thought getting out of my apartment and doing some of my work at the coffee shop would be a nice change of pace, but instead, I found myself being distracted by every noise around me. And then I got irritated that the place was so distracting, even though it was my fault for having the attention span of a gnat.

  Taking a deep breath, I refocused on my laptop. I had to be at Safe Haven in two hours, and I was damn well going to be productive for at least half of that time. I scrolled through the online textbook, taking notes on the notebook beside me as I went. The text was interactive and allowed for note taking on the screen, but I always remembered things better when I wrote them down.