One More Round (Gamer Boy Book 2)

by Lauren Helms

  “Yeah, those two can’t decide if they want to rip each other’s heads off or tear each other’s clothes off. It’s quite comical,” he adds.

  I just nod in agreement, while I force the unwanted feelings of desire for him away.

  “I’m convinced that the clothes-tearing might have already happened, though,” Simon whispers, his focus still on them.

  I snap my head to him.

  “What?!” I croak.

  I'm rewarded with the deep chuckle again, but he lowers his voice a bit more and pulls his gaze from them to me.

  “Yeah, I haven’t pinpointed the exact time it happened, but something changed. I saw them trying to avoid each other one time at your apartment and it was noticeably awkward. They didn’t catch on that I witnessed it, but that’s when I started to pay attention. They seem to be back to normal now.”

  “Huh,” I cock my head to the side. As I ponder this, I turn to look at the couple in question and realize that they have stopped talking and are gawking at me. Well, at us.

  My face scrunches as I look back to Simon. He has noticed as well and crosses his arms. This is typical Simon, it’s a defensive tick.

  “What are you guys staring at?” I question.

  It seems to snap them out of … well, whatever their problem was. But instead of their typical selves, they look confused.

  “What the frack, man?” Simon says with annoyance.

  “You … you guys were just talking,” Link answers.

  “I think I … heard laughter?” Ruby adds, unsure of herself.

  Link turns to Ruby and challenges her. “No. No way. You just think you heard that, Rube.”

  “No … no. I really think I heard Simon laugh.”

  I let out a sigh. Simon shifts in his seat and rolls his eyes.

  “What’s the problem?” Simon asks, clearly annoyed.

  “You realize that you two never talk, right? Well, not to each other, and never more than like a couple words. I think we are just in shock right now,” he answers.

  Worried that Simon will remember that he doesn’t like me and will go back to hating me, I sneak a peek at him.

  He leans back into the couch with a smirk. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, ladies. Gia and I were just discussing current events.”

  Still clearly confused, Link starts to say something, but I jump up to change the subject.

  “So, should we go get something to eat? I’m gonna grab my purse.” I hurry to Ruby’s room where I dropped it when I came over.

  Obviously everyone, including me, is surprised by Simon’s sudden change of heart. But I refuse to get my hopes up that things could even start to get back to normal.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gia

  The past few weeks have been interesting. Simon and I have been getting along better.

  Let me rephrase that. Simon and I haven’t been ignoring each other, and he has been rather light on the stink eye.

  Dare I say we actually might flirt? Sometimes.

  It gets awkward.

  Mostly because we are rarely alone. And I don’t know, the group—is just that, a group of our friends that don’t know much about our past. And really, it’s hard to explain our history without explaining the one thing I haven’t told anyone about: Todd.

  I know Morgan will be upset when she finds out that I hid this from her. I’m fearful that she might not be able to forgive me. Even though I know she will. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, though.

  Every time we start to flirt, we quickly remember that we have an audience. Or we find ourselves in a room for only a few minutes before someone walks in.

  Those glares he used to save only for me, I still get them from time to time. But only when he can tell I’m hiding something from Morgan and Ruby. It’s almost like he’s offended that I haven’t divulged our past to my best friends. Like maybe he thinks our past friendship isn’t worthy of that kind of “girl talk.”

  When that happens, it’s like he remembers that he doesn’t like me.

  Really, it's all getting a bit exhausting.

  I want to be friends again with Simon.

  But I have a secret hanging over my head and I’m not sure Simon will be alright with helping me keep it.

  I’m hiding my new bag of M&M’s in the back of the cheese drawer in the fridge when I hear Morgan open the front door.

  She had a day date with Dex, which is why I offered to do the grocery shopping for the week. When I’m out, I always stock up on my guilty pleasure: M&M’s. Peanut are my favorite, but I love the caramel ones as well. I pour them in candy dishes in the living room and on the island in the kitchen. I can’t keep them in my room because I’ll find myself eating them late into the night and, well—I hate working out, so it’s better that way.

  I can see she is on the phone just as she mouths to me that it’s her dad, and she continues on to her room.

  I snag a handful of M&M’s and head to the couch when I hear my phone ring from my purse.

  As I dig it out I see my mom’s name on the screen.

  Shit. I don’t want to deal with this right now. But if I don’t answer, she’ll keep calling me. So, I head to my own room to face whatever this call is about.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Gia. Hi. I’ll keep this short.”

  “Great. I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I mutter.

  “I don’t have time for attitude, dear. I want to know why you haven’t called your brother yet. I understand you are busy with work and can’t make it home for a visit … but, you know, your father and I have obligations to our jobs as well and we have no problem making Todd a priority. You haven’t even called him. He’s doing so much better now that he’s back on his meds and staying with us. But he thinks he means nothing to you.”

  Alright, this is purely a guilt-trip call.

  “Mom. You know he means something to me. And I’ve told you repeatedly why I don’t like calling him. He’s mean and lashes out at me.”

  “Well, if you’d call him more, he wouldn’t be so mad.”

  I roll my eyes, ready for her to continue but she doesn’t. I snag the opportunity to explain again.

  “Look. Todd and I have issues, we’ve had them for years and I’ve tried over and over to tell you and Dad about them. But like always, you think I’m the problem when clearly, I’m not.”

  I start to hear sniffs. Shit. She is crying. What the hell?

  “I just,” sniff, “don’t understand why you,” sniff, “hate him so much. He’s your twin!”

  To say that I'm used to this would be an understatement.

  I know she doesn’t mean to blame me, but she is just so wrapped up in all things Todd that she doesn’t see the truth. Logically, her guilt trips do nothing for her; I don’t give in, but it still weighs on my heart. And sooner rather than later, I’ll get a nasty call from Todd because my mom will tell him that she has “tried so many times” to get me to call him. Those are the calls that really knock me down.

  I let out a sigh. “Mom, I’m sorry you are upset. I’ll consider giving Todd a call. But please understand that me not calling him has no effect on his well-being.” Honestly, he couldn’t care less about me, he’s doing this all to screw with me.

  “That’s all I ask, sweetie. It just hurts me so much to see you both so at odds.”

  Cue another eye roll.

  “OK, well his doctors think he may be ready to move back into his apartment in a few weeks. He’s doing really well.”

  “That’s great, Mom,” I offer.

  We end the call shortly after, as I realize, once again, she didn’t ask about what was going on in my life. She’ll remember in a few days though and send me a text to ask.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gia

  After my phone call with my mother, I’m in a state of anxiety. I have to stay put in my room. Morgan knows me well enough to know when something is wrong, so I just need to avoid her. I’m trying to watch the newest s
eason of Fuller House on Netflix when my phone pings with a text. I casually find it in my rumpled bed and see a number I’m not familiar with.

  1-234-5555: Hey.

  Uh, yeah, this must be a wrong number. I swipe the text to the left to delete it. Now, focusing back on the show, I really just wish DJ would pick a guy. I used to love Steve but now, being presented with a smart, way sexier vet, I’m so rooting for Matt. Several minutes go by when my phone pings again.

  “Really, again?” I mutter.

  1-234-5555: OK … leaving me hanging I see …

  Whatever, I don’t know you. And I’m not all about talking to random people. I know some people like to have fun with wrong number calls and texts, but I don’t have time for that. Again, I swipe and delete.

  This actually used to happen to me all the time. About a year ago, I started getting these calls from an older lady, she sounded like she was in her late 60s and when I would answer, she would ask for Lou. I’d tell her it was the wrong number and she would apologize and hang up. But I started getting a call every week. She called one night, and I told her as nicely as possible that she has been calling the wrong number for months; to please check the number she had. She was friendly but so confused.

  “Well, if Lou isn’t there, can I speak to her husband, Jeb?” she asked. I hung my head in frustration.

  “No, ma’am. You have the wrong number, there is no Lou here and no Jeb. I also think you’ve asked for an Eric as well in the past. It’s just me, and I’ve had this number for about five years now.”

  “Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say so, dear? I would have stopped calling the wrong number.”

  With a heavy sigh, I said goodbye and we hung up. From that point, I stopped answering unknown calls and texts. She never called back, by the way.

  My groan is accompanied by an eye roll when, once again, my phone pings. Damn it. I am going to have to text back. I grab my phone, ready to unload on this wrong number person, but I’m surprised when I read the next text.

  1-234-5555: I’m guessing that you don’t know who this is. You’re probably just deleting my texts.

  What the frack?

  Should I even reply? Who could this be? They could still have the wrong number.

  I weigh my options for a few minutes.

  1-234-5555: Shit. I just realized how creepy that sounded.

  1-234-5555: It’s Simon, btw.

  My eyes go wide at the screen. While I’m relieved I don’t have some crazy unknown creep harassing me, and possibly trying to catfish me, I’m equally confused (if not a little giddy) with the fact that it’s Simon. Why would he be texting me?

  Me: Yeah, kinda creepy.

  Me: Hey back, btw.

  1-234-5555: Sorry. I figured you had my number. Morgan seems like the kind of person who would have backup emergency contacts for ppl, so I assumed …

  Me: You know what they say when you assume.

  1-234-5555: I know, Mom … you make an ass out of you and me.

  Me: Haha. Just channeling my inner Mrs. Palmer.

  OK, so we are doing this. This is a good start. Texting is easy, no awkward lulls in conversation. He’s probably right though, it’s good to have his number in a case of emergency.

  Simon: Would you have eventually texted back?

  Me: Nope, you were one text away from being blocked.

  I see the little bubbles pop up and then go away. And minutes pass. I wonder what’s going on over in his apartment and then I reread my reply.

  My face starts to heat when I realize what I said. That I was about to block his number. Aaah!

  Shiitake mushrooms. Apparently, this is a sore subject since it’s what I did years ago.

  Did I make him mad? Would he even realize that I blocked his number? Has he decided to stop texting me because he remembered?

  I throw myself backward onto my bed and let out a distressed groan slash cry.

  My phone pings. Ugh, a moment of truth.

  Simon: Hmm. That’s definitely your M.O., so I can’t say I’m surprised.

  I bite my bottom lip. Alright, I deserved that.

  Me: Yikes. How many lashings will I be receiving this time, sir?

  Simon: What kind of lashings are we talking about?

  Well, that’s not where I was going with it.

  Me: So who gave you my number?

  Simon: And why am I texting?

  Simon: Link, who got it from Ruby, so everyone is probably walking around in stunned silence like fools.

  Me: Ha! Dex would have been the better source. You gone and f’ed up, my friend. Ruby and Link are the worst schoolgirl gossips I know!

  Simon: Is that what we are now? Friends?

  This leaves me a bit perplexed. I mean, I want to be friends again. God only knows how much I’ve missed him. But he is the one who texted me. If I say yes, is he just going to say “too bad, so sad, I still very much hate you!” or is that what he wants too? Surely, if he didn’t want to at least be civil, he wouldn’t have texted me.

  Me: I’d like to be …

  Simon: Good.

  Me: OK, then. Friends …

  Now what? The little bubbles never pop back up. I stare at the phone for longer than I care to admit until I realize what I’m doing, shake my head, and toss my phone on to the bed. I sit up and rewind the show that’s still playing.

  But, no sooner than I get back into the show—seriously, Kimmy still annoys the shit out of me—my phone rings. I snatch up my phone and see that he’s calling me.

  Ah! What?! NO … I’m not ready for this! Why is he calling me? What the fuck, Gia? You are 24 years old. Get a grip.

  “Hello,” I answer a bit breathlessly from my near freak-out.

  “Uh, hi,” Simon answers and he totally notices my tone because he sounds confused. “Am I … uh… interrupting something?”

  “What? Oh. No! I’m just … doing sit-ups,” I spew. What the—?!

  “Really?”

  “Yes! Of course? Why would I say that if it wasn’t true?” Gah!

  He chuckles.

  “OK, Gia. I believe you. It’s just, you used to hate anything that had to do with physical activity.”

  I let out a defeated breath. That’s still true.

  “So … you’re texting me. We’re friends again, and now we are talking on the phone …”

  “Yeah, I’m on my way home for the night on the L, and we went through a dead spot. So, I thought I would just call now, since I’m walking.”

  “Ah. What were you up to tonight?”

  I’m greeted with silence. I can hear him breathing, though, so I know he is still there.

  “Simon?”

  “I was just out.”

  My face starts to heat. And a pang of jealousy—I won’t pretend that I don’t know exactly what it is—stabs me in the chest. He doesn’t owe me an explanation, but the fact that he hesitated and got really vague about it, tells me he was probably on a date. Most likely with that chick from The Bar. I start to get mad when I remember one crucial fact. We are just friends. And barely that.

  Check yourself, lady.

  “Cool. So, what was your reason for the creepy text tonight?” I’m rewarded with a deep chuckle.

  “I don’t really have one, to be honest. Is that OK?”

  My pangs of jealousy fade almost as quick as they came, and a different feeling takes hold.

  Our conversation is light and comfortable for the next few minutes.

  “So, I was thinking …”

  “Uh-oh,” I chuckle. He laughs.

  “I thought that we should go see a movie or something.”

  “Hmm. OK. Like, get the group together?” I'm cautious here.

  “No. Just us.”

  “Like a date?”

  “More like a two-friends-who-haven’t-hung-out-in-eight-years kinda thing.”

  I’m just a little shocked right now because we just established we are friends, we’ve talked more in the past
10 minutes than we have in eight years, and now he wants one-on-one time with me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy about this, but I can’t help but be a little hesitant.

  “Or we don’t have to,” he grumbles into the phone.

  “No, no! I want to, it's just … all really fast.”

  “We spent most of our time back then as just us.”

  The way he says “us” makes me nearly melt.

  “I miss us,” I whisper, unsure of how he will respond.

  “Me too.” His voice is kind and soft now.

  The silence across the airwaves lasts a few seconds.

  “OK. When and what movie?” I ask. He clears his throat.

  “Anything but a chick flick.”

  “What?! Those are your favorite!” I laugh.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Simon

  Two days ago, I decided to try to put my issues with Gia in the past where they belonged. After having dinner with her, Ruby, and Link, I realized that I fucking missed Gia. Things between us finally felt less awkward.

  I found myself wanting to talk to her. I thought about how nice it would be to just send her a text. That's when I remembered that I didn’t have her number. Morgan had mentioned once that we needed to have everyone’s numbers, so that’s how I had Ruby’s. Now that I think about it, though, it makes sense that no one ever gave me Gia’s.

  So, I asked Link.

  Rookie mistake.

  I had asked if he had Gia’s number and he acted like a rational human being.

  “Oh, yeah, sure, man.” Then read it off to me. No sooner had I saved the contact than he started in on me.

  “You know this is great fuel for me to feed the gossip mill. Right? Everyone is going to be very interested in this little tidbit of information.”

  “Shut up, Link.”

  “Just saying, man.” He draws out the just. “You have been giving her the stink eye since that first night. And in just the past week, you’ve started discussing current events, and now you want her number?”

  I shut him down with an eye roll and just went to my room to get ready for my date with Lindsey. Speaking of which, I ended up breaking things off with her. The sole reason being that I just wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t want to lead her on.