PLAYED: A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE

by Wild, Nikki

  “Thanks,” I answered noncommittally, giving him a sideways glance and a bit of a smirk.

  “So, what do your parents think of that?” He asked, casting me a studying glance as he sipped his glass of beer.

  “My parents… aren’t exactly part of the equation,” I shrugged, holding back the emotions.

  “Oh,” he commented. “I’m sorry to hear it. I don’t want to drudge up any painful memories…”

  “My mother left when I was very young,” I told him, surprising myself. “As for my father, he died in a motorcycle accident a couple of years later.

  “I can’t possibly imagine,” he sympathized.

  I continued on. “I passed through foster care for a while until a family took me in. They supported my art, and were proud of me… but they were Ivy League material, and I wasn’t. When I decided to not follow in their footsteps, things got a bit… messy. So, when I came back from Finland, I was able to scrounge myself up a decent place to live, worked on my art, and here I am.”

  He nodded, reflecting on these words. “You’re not in contact with them?”

  “I have a phone number for my mother that may or may not work,” I offered. “My biological mother, I mean. The last time we chatted, it turned into a massive argument. I haven’t bothered with her in years.

  “As for my foster parents, no. I burned the bridge. I’m on my own… just how I like it. Not having to rely on anybody but myself.”

  “You enjoy your solitude.”

  “I enjoy being in control of my life,” I clarified. “It’s a rewarding feeling to not need to depend on the kindness of others. I get what I need from people, offering them a little of myself in return, and then that’s that. Besides my couple of friends, of course.”

  “The two from the other night. The Japanese girl and the thin, skittish guy.”

  “Yeah, Reiko and Will. I’ve known them since we were kids… since before I began supporting myself. The two of them have been there from the beginning.”

  “They sound like strong friends.”

  “The only people I can rely on.”

  I ordered another drink on his tab, and we drank together in silence for a few minutes.

  “What about your parents?” I asked him.

  Lex stiffened in his barstool. “House fire. Took ‘em both when I was fifteen. I wound up on the streets, just a year shy of being a legal adult in England. I learned some street smarts, how to fight, things like that. Learned how to survive. If I hadn’t been mindlessly dedicating myself to football, I’d probably still be there…”

  “You were homeless?”

  “For a while, yeah. Streets of London are a cold place…”

  I thought on this carefully. “I couldn’t possibly imagine what that’s like, either.”

  “It’s bloody tough, is what it is,” Lex grumbled. “But I made it out, and with an appreciation for earning things. I’ve earned where I am in the world now. You might think that I’m just off globe trotting, but I’m here for a particular reason… and just enjoying my time while I can.”

  “And what reason would that be?” I asked.

  Lex’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Keeping myself out of trouble, little lady.”

  I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was intriguing… or that the sex had been amazing. What I was doing here, I wasn’t exactly sure… but I felt drawn to him.

  Lex had a special kind of magnetism to him, and whatever it was, it cast a spell on me, tugging me closer and closer… Is this a mistake? Should I just get the fuck out of here right now?

  I felt as if the decision was a conscious one, a fork in the road laid out ahead of me. I couldn’t seen what lay down either direction, but something kept pulling my attention down one in particular…

  Lex seemed to sense this.

  “Listen,” he murmured, turning to face me quietly. “Last night was a lot of fun, and I’m glad to see you back again. I want you to come home with me again.”

  “That’s rather forward,” I observed over the lip of my drink, taking a small swig.

  “I thought you preferred to cut to the chase after last night,” he reminded me. It was true, and I couldn’t help but recognize how he was taking charge, sensing my apprehension.

  “I can’t offer you stability right now. I don’t represent consistency or firm, solid ground. But what I can offer you is this: if you accompany me back tonight… if you choose to spend more time with me… you’ll never have a dull moment. Whatever boredom is in your life, I can make that all disappear.”

  I eyed him silently.

  His lip curled up into a smile again. “Well?”

  I downed the rest of my drink and sat it down in front of myself, sliding my thumb and index fingertip along the glass, rotating it lightly beneath my touch.

  “…Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

  His smile turned practically devilish, and he clicked his fingers for the bartender. A few minutes later, and we were wandering down the streets of the French Quarter again, sauntering arm in arm towards his hotel room.

  Until…

  “Bloody hell,” Lex muttered to himself, patting his pockets. “Dammit. I think I left my card in the bar…” He glanced over at me sheepishly. “Would you mind coming back with me for a moment?”

  “I can wait here,” I answered.

  He sized up the surroundings for a moment. “Are you certain? This doesn’t seem a fantastic part of town…”

  I threw him a sideways glance.

  “Okay, okay then,” Lex grinned, his palms held up. “You live here, you can take care of yourself. I get it. Just wait here… I’ll be right back.”

  The English gentleman grinned, shaking his head lightly before wandering back towards the pub.

  I leaned against the wall of a nearby stoop, crossing my arms and tapping my foot. My mind wandered, wondering how I might paint my surroundings.

  Effortlessly, I took in the details of the French Quarter. Not a whole lot of people were out; the few stragglers along the pavement were isolated into pairs or small groups from one another, with the odd speck of a person wandering around between them. None of them had any major defining features, which pleased me.

  That would make for broad strokes, I considered to myself. Put the emphasis on the buildings, and paint some ghosts to meander alongside them…

  The overall lighting was dim but poetic, casting bright bursts of light in front of bar fronts and under the occasional streetlight. I enjoyed the darkness that stretched between these parts, hoping to encroach across the area… but it was never enough to blacken the French Quarter.

  There was such history here, and so many drunken escapades that no book could ever hope to properly catalogue them. New Orleans was such a wistful place, so full of life and light, even in the dark…

  Lex still wasn’t back. I was starting to grow somewhat impatient. He said that he’d only be gone a couple of minutes… what’s taking him?

  That’s when I felt the firm hand, clasping over my mouth. Before I could even scream, I was being dragged backwards into an alley, away from the light, and a cocked gun pressed into my temple.

  “Scream, and you die,” a gruff voice told me. “Do you understand? Not even a fucking peep.”

  I nodded, and the hand slipped off of my lips… only for someone else to shove a gag into my mouth, tying it around my head.

  Purely out of fear, I started trying to smack or punch whoever my aggressors were. I saw a quick glance – there were two of them, both dressed like thugs. My hands were restrained, and a blindfold was tied around my eyes.

  “Mmmf!” I exclaimed, but it was useless.

  I was being dragged backwards through the alley, stumbling blindly along with them. They were leading me away from the street, forcing me to follow them into the dark…

  Oh god, no, not like this, I sobbed in my head.

  Suddenly, my palms were slapped against the brick wall, and my legs spread. A pair of viciou
s, hungry hands tugged at the bottom of my dress, whipping it up over my hips…

  “Mmm, such an uptight little bitch,” one of the thugs chuckled. “Wonder if that pussy is this tight, too…”

  “One way to find out,” the other commented directly into my ear. He was the one assaulting my dress, and I just waited for the sound of ripping fabric as I struggled to fight my way out of this.

  This can’t be happening, I pleaded into my head. I should have just fucking gone back with him to the bar. Oh god, they dragged me back here, he won’t find me…

  “Oh shit, this bitch is wearing a thong!” The aggressor holding me pinned chortled quietly. “Well, luck be a lady tonight…”

  I felt my thong being ripped down my thighs, and I realized that I was totally, resoundingly fucked…

  “Hey, who the fuck is–”

  There was the sound of scuffling shoes, and a hard blow. The other thug went down, crumpling into some boxes. I felt the guy holding me down release his grip and take a step back.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarled. I ripped at the knot of my blindfold, desperate to free myself and see what was really happening.

  Whatever was going on, it was a brawl. Fists flew, shoes scraped against the uneven pavement, and grunts of pain were exchanged.

  I finally tugged the blindfold free, just in time to watch Lex Lambert dig his knee into the gut of my would-be rapist, dropping him to his knees and palms. Lex paused to check me, and I saw someone rise up behind him – the other asshole, by the looks of it.

  With the gag in my mouth, I couldn’t shout at the danger or untie my own wrists, so I bobbed my head. Lex turned, just in time to take a walloping blow to the side of his cheek. He slipped, steadying himself against the wall, before bouncing free and headbutting the guy in the nose.

  “Goddammit!” The thug screeched. “By dose!” Blood was gushing from his nose, which was unnaturally bent and partially flattened. “You broke by dose, you fucking biece of shit!”

  “I’ll break more of you if you touch this fucking woman again,” Lex snarled, digging the heel of his boot into the guy’s balls.

  Whimpering, he clutched himself and collapsed down to his knees. Lex lifted his foot and delivered another kick, this time straight to the side of the guy’s head.

  “That’ll teach ya,” he muttered to himself.

  He whirled back around and untied the restraints on my wrists. Finally, I managed to tug the gag from my lips, gasping in fear and breathlessness. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “Holy fucking shit, oh fuck, oh god…”

  “It’s okay now,” Lex whispered, drawing me close. His toughened fingers held my cheeks, and he gazed deeply into my eyes. “I’m here now. They won’t hurt you. I’ve taken care of them…”

  The one of the ground had risen up again, and loomed menacingly behind Lex. He was ready to end this, once and for all…

  “Lex, wait!” I fearfully gasped, staring over his shoulder at the attacker.

  He turned, but it was too late. Lex took another solid blow to the head that sent him clattering against the wall, where his head collided with a sick thud. My rescuer crumped to the pavement uselessly, knocked completely out cold.

  In that instant, my fingers graced a glass bottle. Before the thug could turn his attention to me, I snatched it up, smashing it upside his head. He took a step back in surprise as I lunged forward with the broken glass, but his foot caught, and he slipped backwards, smashing into a dumpster.

  He had just started to get up when I saw it. The gun they’d held on me sat at my feet. I swept it up into my hand, pointing it at the asshole and screaming for him to stay on the ground. Bending over, I shook Lex by his blazer, smacking his face with my free hand. He was out cold, but blood was pooling from his head.

  Oh fuck. Oh god, no…

  “HELP! “ I screamed at the top of my lungs, clutching desperately to any semblance of hope. “CAN ANYBODY PLEASE HELP ME?!”

  Chapter 6

  Lex

  Being a world-class football player meant that waking up in a hospital bed was not exactly a foreign experience to me. I’d taken my fair share of blows during the sport, on and off the field...

  The first thing I noticed was that I was disoriented by the amount of space I had. The kind of treatment I was used to in England would have been cramped at best. Hospitals in London aren’t known for their open floorplans.

  Here… I had space.

  The room was fairly large by my standards, although the huge bed took up a substantial portion of it… but I had it all to myself.

  A small television was mounted up on the opposing wall, and there was a wide window to my right, letting in some light to chirp up the place. To my left was a door, leading to either a closet or a bathroom – and beyond that, a larger door, naturally to exit the room.

  That’s when I spotted the other human being in the room. Riley was fast asleep, curled up on some sort of padded storage bench beneath the window. As I shifted around in bed and found a way to raise the incline to my back, she stirred from her slumber.

  “Oh! Lex! You’re… you’re awake,” Riley murmured, stifling her surprising burst of enthusiasm with a yawn. “How are you feeling?”

  “My head’s a little off, but besides that, I’m chipper as ever,” I groggily answered, scratching my chest. I felt round things attached to my skin, connected to wires – so, the doctors had given me electrodes.

  “You won’t want to mess with those,” Riley warned, her eyes drifting down to my scratching fingertips. “They were rather adamant about that.”

  “They being who, exactly?”

  “The doctors,” Riley told me.

  “Right. Speaking of, what am I doing in a hospital, precisely?”

  Riley looked saddened. “You… took a few blows to the head, and you were knocked out.” Her eyes glanced down to her lap, where she wrung her hands together while adding: “There was a lot of bleeding.”

  “For a head wound? Not surprising at all,” I commented, feeling for the lightly throbbing gash on my scalp. My fingertips grazed it – not too bad, all things considered. “I’ve taken a few before. They always look far worse than they actually are. Lots of blood with those buggers. Scares the Devil right out of you.”

  “Well… we’d better wait to see what the doctor says, anyway.”

  I nodded absentmindedly, considering those words. “Where is the doctor, anyway?”

  “He’s supposed to be making his rounds in thirty minutes,” Riley responded, rising from the bench, “but I’ll go check with the nurse’s station anyway. You’ve been out for a while, so we didn’t know when you might come back.”

  “How long’s a while?”

  “A day and a half.”

  I grimaced. “Oh boy.”

  Riley stepped out, and I reached over, digging around the items scattered across the end table for my phone. I didn’t see it, which concerned me – particularly since I knew that Jess was going to be pissed.

  I spotted my blazer, hanging with my pants on a nearby wall. Shrugging off the blankets, I was able to barely reach it with my electrodes in place, and fished around in my blazer pocket.

  There you are…

  I slunk back into bed and began to text Jess. My eyes fell upon the logo for the hospital, which had the words “Saint Peter’s General Hospital” emblazoned around the edges, and notified her where I was, and that I was fine.

  I hit send and slipped the phone back onto the end table before Riley popped back into the room.

  “Doctor Wright will be with you shortly.”

  Shortly apparently meant later than originally told, because it was almost forty-five minutes before he finally appeared. A comforting man in his mid-thirties, Doctor Wright apologized for the delay and began to examine me during some small talk.

  I kept my answers brief, and my tone even.

  “Everything seems normal,” he commented finally, wrapping up his investigation. “Looks like
you lucked out. Minor concussion, and you’ve got that gash there, but I don’t see why it won’t heal up nicely. You don’t even need stitches for it. I’m going to go ahead and clear you for release. Shall I go ahead and file for the paperwork?”

  “Please do so,” I agreed.

  He left us to our devices, and I turned to Riley. “How long have you been here?”