The Game

by Natalie Clarke

  Did I surprise her by saying I want her to stay?

  Does she think I'm lying? Because I'm not.

  “I’m going to stay,” she replies, softly.

  Did I hear that right?

  “Really?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  For the rest of the evening, we play a few games of pool, she beats me by three games to one, before we end up sat on the sofa in front of the TV, flicking through music channels, only most of them center around trashy reality TV programmes.

  When the fuck did music television stop playing music?

  I want my MTV.

  What music we do find is the top forty, some really bad rap channel, a countdown to the greatest song of seventies disco, God help me, and an entire hour dedicated to Fleetwood Mac.

  “Nothing beats classic rock,” I say. “Guns 'N' Roses, AC/DC, Mötley Crüe...”

  She smiles. “I like anything really, though I grew up with those bands, my dad would always play them when I was younger, after a while it kind of rubs off on you.”

  “What’s your favourite song, if you had to choose only one to listen to for the rest of your life?”

  “Is This Love by Whitesnake,” she replies confidently. “I used to go through old photo albums and would always tease my dad saying that he used to look like a young David Coverdale, back in the day.” She laughs at the memory. “What’s yours?”

  “November Rain,” I reply without hesitation. Fuck I love that song.

  She smiles fondly, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, casting her gaze down as if in thought.“What?” I ask curiously.

  “That song. We played it at my mom’s funeral. That’s how my parents met actually. They met at a bar and November Rain was playing on the jukebox.”

  “No shit.” Of all the songs...

  “I know.”

  Guilt tugs at me.

  She misses her dad, whether she will admit it to herself or not, she does, and it’s all my fault.

  Why did I have to do that to them?

  Why did I have to be such a bastard and rip an already broken family even further apart?

  I hate myself.

  I exhale deeply. “You probably don’t want to hear it, especially not from me, but you should try to forgive him, he was desperate, grasping at straws, no thanks to me.”

  “Yeah, desperate enough to sell me to you, to put money ahead of his daughter.”

  I wince. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did, there’s absolutely no excuse. I baited him, I knew he would do anything to get the money and I used how desperate he was to get closer to you. You and your dad didn’t deserve that.” I hang my head low in shame.

  “I forgive you Kyle.”

  I look up at her.

  She smiles and reaches for my hand. “I forgive you. You did go about everything the wrong way, but you’ve more than made up for that. It’s my dad I’m struggling to forgive, you didn’t force him into anything.”

  “I still had a huge hand in it. I dangled the carrot.”

  “But he chose to take it, willingly.”

  “You should hate me.”

  “I should,” she says. “But I don’t.”

  We talk for what must be hours, well into the early hours of the morning before she retires to bed, leaving me on the sofa where I watch her disappear into my bedroom, clicking the door shut.

  That itch works its way back into my fingers, an itch I can’t scratch. One in which I want to touch her, hold her, wrap myself around her.

  I want to march into that room and drown in her warmth, her kindness, her softness.

  I'm falling for this girl, I can feel it, right down to my bones, I should stop myself before I fall too far that I can’t climb back up, before I get in too deep.

  But I’m at all not sure I can.

  I'm not at all sure than I want to.

  Chapter 15

  Hayley

  “No! Stop! Get away from her!” I’m ripped from my sleep from the sound of shouting again, “Stop!” I leap out of bed and hurry out of the room towards Kyle. He’s sat upright, his neck hung in an uncomfortable angle, his arms, and legs twitching.

  I crouch down in front of him. “Kyle,” I say softly, touching his face lightly. “Kyle.”

  His eyes fly open and he gasps. His face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

  “Hayley.”

  “Hey, you were having another nightmare.” I run a hand through his hair comfortingly.

  He pulls my hand away from his head and gently squeezes it, holding it between both of his. “Sorry I woke you, again.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” I smile.

  “I was dreaming about... him, again.”

  It takes me by surprise that he wants to talk to me about it, confide in me. I get up and perch next to him on the couch, my knee gently brushing his.

  “I’ve had this dream since I found out about him, about what he did. My mother is there, he’s...” he hesitates, “he’s, you know.”

  I nod.

  “I’m trying to stop him, but it’s like I’m looking through a window or something. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get to her, I can’t stop him.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he pinches his nose with his free hand, his other, still holding mine.

  I squeeze his hand.

  “Only tonight the dream was different, tonight, my mother’s face is turned towards me, like she can see me, so I look away, when I look back up, my mother’s face has gone,” he turns and looks at me, “and yours in its place.”

  My heart stops.

  “I couldn’t get to you, I couldn’t save you.” He drops my hand buries his face in his both of his, the heels of his hands digging into the sockets of his eyes.

  “Look at me.” I pull his hands away from his face, “I’m okay. Nightmares can’t hurt you, they’re just dreams, you know that.”

  “It felt so real, they always feel so real,” he says.

  “I know.”

  “I don’t ever want to be like him, Hayley. Ever.” His voice begins to crack.

  I press my palm against the side of his face. “You are nothing like him. Nothing.”

  I wrap my arms around him, and I hold him until he falls asleep. I carefully lay him down on the couch, his head on the cushion to the side of him.

  I want this man, this beautiful broken man.

  I want to be the one to put him back together, to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart, erase the pain he feels towards his birth mother, and take away his anger for the monster that fathered him.

  I want him, there’s no denying it.

  I may even be in danger of falling for him. Scratch that, I'm already falling, I’ve been falling since I met him, it’s now just a case of when I hit the bottom and how hard it’s going to hurt.

  ∞∞∞

  The next morning, sunlight streams into the room through the floor to ceiling window.

  My neck is bent at an odd angle, I begin to sit up, rubbing my aching neck, squinting against the harsh light that burns my eyes. It is then that I realise I was leaning against Kyle’s shoulder, I must have fallen asleep on him last night.

  “Good morning,” Kyle says, startling me.

  I jerk. “Jesus Christ. I thought you were asleep.”

  “Nope, been awake for about half an hour.”

  “So, you’ve been sitting here waiting for me to wake up?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked so peaceful.”

  I smile, slightly embarrassed by the fact that he was watching me sleep.

  Kyle reaches for my hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. He stretches and stands up. “I’m going to hop in the shower, I won’t be long.”

  As he makes his way towards the en suite, he strips off his shirt, revealing the toned muscles of his strong, wide back. I can just about make out a large tattoo that makes up the space across his shoulder blades.

  A vis
ion enters my mind, me on my back, Kyle hovering above me, my nails scraping across his back, digging into the flesh leaving raw, red marks on his skin as he rocks into me, moving inside me...

  The sound of the shower snaps me out of my daydream.

  I walk into the bedroom to change, brushing through my matted hair with my fingers, realising I forgot to pack my hairbrush when I went home.

  I check my phone, I have a few new messages from Aaron and Gwen. I know I should call them, but I can’t even face the thought of trying to explain the situation I’m in. I know it’s unconventional and messed up but being here with Kyle doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

  Something shifted between us yesterday, the unsettled, tense atmosphere filled with dislike and resentment has faded. Since our confessions to each other yesterday, we’ve grown closer, seen each other in a different light.

  I hear the shower shut off and the cubicle doors slide open.

  I begin to leave the room when I notice the slither of light coming from a crack in the bathroom door, I peer through it.

  I should not be doing this.

  I should not be doing this.

  Kyle steps into my view through the crack in the door, he’s completely naked. He’s facing away from me, drying his hair with his towel, his arms and shoulders muscles flexing with the movement. I couldn’t make it out before, but I can see his tattoo clearer now, it’s of the devil holding a hand of playing cards, an Ace, a King, a Queen a Jack and a ten, all diamonds - A Royal Flush.

  My gaze travels down to his ass, defined and firm. A sharp jolt flows through my body and down to my core, electrifying my body, heat beginning to build between my legs at the sight of him. Arousal is still very much a foreign feeling to me, one that I haven’t felt in such a long time, since before what happened to me. I had finally accepted that, that day had made that part of my body shut down, but now I realise those feelings were there all along, lying dormant waiting for something, someone to wake me up.

  Kyle.

  My clit is throbbing with need, with desire, with want for him. I squeeze my thighs together to quell the ache, it has no effect.

  He begins to turn around to face in my direction, so I hop out of sight, tip toeing out of the bedroom as quietly and discreetly as possible.

  I lean against the wall, my heart racing.

  Did he see me watching him?

  Is that why he left the door slightly open?

  Did he want me to see him?

  Did I want him to?

  Yes. I did.

  I make my way into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water to cool myself down, I’m now hyperventilating, the ache between my legs isn’t subsiding.

  The bathroom door closes and moments later Kyle emerges out of the bedroom wearing a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans, his hair damp and scruffy.

  “So, um... I was wondering.” He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair still damp from his shower. “Are you still staying here, with me?” he asks, nervously, almost self-consciously.

  It’s strange to see him so unsure, so uneasy.

  “Yeah.” I smile softly.

  His mouth stretches into a wide smile. “Okay. Do you want breakfast?”

  I nod. “Breakfast sounds great.”

  ∞∞∞

  After we’ve eaten, we head out to Central Park, where we spend the afternoon walking and taking in the beauty of the park. It’s warm out today, the sun beating down through the cloudless sky.

  “I’ve always loved it here, my mom always used to bring me here, the park was special to her,” I say, tilting my face towards the sky, breathing in the fresh air, the smell of freshly cut grass filling my nostrils, the warmth of the sun on my skin.

  “Were the two of you close?” Kyle asks.

  “Yeah, we were really close, she was more like a best friend or a big sister than a mom, I could talk to her about anything. Until now, I’ve never been able to bring myself to come here. Too many memories, I guess.”

  “Why now?”

  “You,” I reply. “I guess being here with you makes it easier somehow.” I cast my gaze up to him, offering a smile to find him staring down at me.

  He shocks me by taking my hand in his. We come to a stop and he turns me to face him. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you agreed to stay, not because you had to, not because I forced you, but because you wanted to.”

  He takes a step towards me, closing the distance between us, his face only inches from mine. His gaze flicks from my eyes down to my mouth, he licks his lips and my breath catches in my throat. For a split second I think he’s going to kiss me, his lips hovering just inches above mine, his breath wafting gently over my face. I wait for his lips to touch mine, but they never do, instead, he pulls away from me.

  He clears his throat and squeezes my hand. “Come on.” He smiles, before we continue walking.

  I can’t deny the disappointment I feel that he didn’t kiss me.

  Why didn’t he?

  Kyle and I spend a couple more hours wandering the park, and as the clouds close in on another day, we wind our way through the narrow paths and make it back to the car. Kyle pulls the door open for me, but before I have chance to climb in, he blocks me.

  “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Kyle asks.

  “What?” His question catches me off guard.

  “Do you want to go on a date with me?” he repeats.

  “I thought that wasn’t your style?” I tease.

  Kyle smiles softly. “Maybe it is after all.”

  I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

  “Let’s get going then, need to get ready and get changed.”

  He moves out of the way, allowing me room to climb into the car. He climbs in behind the wheel and head back to the hotel.

  Chapter 16

  Hayley

  It’s almost dark when we arrive back at the penthouse.

  “So where are we going?” I ask.

  “We’re going out for dinner. Well, not really out, not to blow my own trumpet but the restaurant here at the hotel is next level, we have some of the best chefs in New York City and the food is to die for,” he replies.

  “It sounds perfect,” I say. “Wait, I don’t have anything to wear, all I brought with me are jeans and t-shirts.”

  He smiles mischievously. “Go take a shower and get ready, and don’t worry, we’ll find you something.” He turns and heads into his walk-in closet.

  I make my way to the bedroom to grab my toiletries. I hop in the shower and wash my hair, for some reason I’m compelled to shave my legs. Once I’m done, I brush my teeth, dry my hair with the hairdryer and pin it up in a half up-do, letting small strands and wisps of hair fall either side of my face. My hair has a slight wave to it, so it doesn’t take long for it to take shape once it is dry. I apply a thin coat of foundation on my face and add concealer under my eyes, as well as a little mascara and some pastel pink lipstick.

  I’m stood in the center of the bathroom, dressed only in a towel. Shit. What am I supposed to do now?

  I head for the door and poke my head out, he’s not here, I open the door wider and step out into the bedroom when I notice a large white rectangular box sitting on the bed. I remove the lid and pull the tissue paper out to the way.

  A dress. Emerald green. Lace.

  I take it out of the box to get a better look, it’s the dress from the store, the one Kyle offered to buy me the first night in the casino.

  “Nice, huh?” I hear from behind me.

  Kyle is standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. He’s dressed in a crisp white buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and jet-black tailored suit trousers.

  “You bought the dress.” It came out more of an accusation rather than a question.

  “Of course.” He smiles.

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Stop stal
ling. Go get changed, I want to see you in that dress.” With that, he turns and walks away.

  I look down at the dress that I never in a million years thought would be mine. I run my fingers over the soft silk and smile to myself. I close the bedroom door and slip out of the towel, letting it fall to the floor. I pull on a pair of panties before stepping into the dress and place my arms through the straps, and after battling with the zip at the back I finally work it up without breaking it.