Love Games (Revenge Games Duet Book 2)

by Sky Corgan

  “She'll go. I'll make sure she's there.” Becky clutches onto my arm and smiles up at Peter.

  “I'll look forward to seeing you both there then,” he tells us before walking off.

  “Don't you two be sneaking off at the party to make out,” she teases me, slapping my shoulder.

  All I can do is let out a tense laugh. There will definitely be no making out. Hopefully, I won't have to talk to him at all.

  As if knowing I'll weasel my way out of going to the party otherwise, Peter sends out an email saying that it's mandatory. I groan as I read through it. How can a party possibly be fun if it's mandatory? That sounds more like work.

  He and Harris reserve a party hall in a hotel for it. I'm thankful that it's not at Peter's place. That would make it even more awkward than it already is.

  I pick Becky up, and we drive to the venue. I still can't force myself to tell her what happened, maybe because I'm afraid she'll pounce on Peter the second she knows we're not together anymore. I'm not sure why that would bother me. Maybe the wound is just too fresh. Whatever the case, I don't want that to happen.

  As soon as we walk through the double doors, she grabs my wrist and makes a beeline for Peter. “There's your mancakes.”

  I plant my heels into the carpet, but she's surprisingly strong for her small stature. Peter and I exchange civil greetings, and then we all stand there just staring at each other.

  “What's wrong with you two?” Becky looks at us.

  Peter's jaw is clenched. It doesn't appear he's going to disclose our newly updated status. I don't want to embarrass him at the party by announcing we broke up, so I stay quiet, too.

  “Oh, I get it. You guys are sad because you're not going to be seeing each other every day anymore. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll still spend plenty of time together.” Becky waggles her eyebrows.

  If only she knew.

  Peter picks up a glass from the table. It's full to the brim with an amber liquid. He tosses it back, then heads to the bar for a refill. It's an open bar, and it looks like he's taking advantage of it more than the employees.

  I don't feel like drinking. I don't even feel like being here.

  “Are you guys okay?” Becky asks once Peter is out of earshot.

  “Mhm.” I nod, watching Peter as he throws back another glassful of liquor.

  Becky walks off to mingle with some of our co-workers, and I become the paint on the walls. My gaze is mostly fixed on Peter, who is drinking himself into a stupor. I want to tell him to slow down, but it's not my business anymore. Not until he gets so drunk that he trips and nearly tears down the hors d'oeuvr table to keep standing.

  That's when both Becky and I jump into action, realizing that he's had enough and it would probably be best for him to leave. We flank his sides, helping him out of the building.

  “I'll order him an Uber,” I tell her.

  She quirks her head back. “Order him an Uber? What kind of girlfriend are you? Drive him home.”

  I'm filled with a mix of panic and guilt. Wanting to keep up appearances, I submit to defeat and end up driving Peter back to his place and helping him upstairs into bed.

  As I undress him and pull the blanket up to his chin, I remember all the good times we've had together. The way I used to fawn over him. How it felt when he'd walk into the room. Now I feel nothing but regret for having wanted him for all the wrong reasons. I was a stupid, naive girl dreaming about a fairytale that I didn't understand the price of.

  Oh well. It's over now. After tonight, I won't have to see him again.

  I brush a few strands of hair away from his forehand and stand to leave. Before I've even taken a step away, I feel a strong hand grip my wrist.

  I turn to see Peter staring at me. He seemed to be asleep only moments ago, but now he's wide awake. His eyes are glassy, but his expression is dead serious.

  “Don't go.”

  “I can't stay.”

  He sits up, his head hung low, but he won't let go of my arm. “Tell me what I have to do to fix this. I'll do anything you ask. Give you anything you want. Tell me what it will take to make you love me.”

  “The heart doesn't work that way,” I reply hesitantly, feeling an aching in my chest, though it's more for him than for me.

  “Then tell me what it is that makes you want him more than me.”

  Something twists inside of me as Caleb's face flashes across my mind. “Let's not do this.”

  Peter looks up at me desperately. “I need to know so that I can be better for you.”

  “You should go to sleep.” I caress his cheek, trying to comfort him.

  The first tear falls from the corner of his eye, and I feel my heart fall with it. He's in so much pain, and nothing that I could do to take it away would be honest.

  “I've never loved someone before. Not the way that I love you,” he tells me. “I don't know if I can handle losing you. I don't want to live without you.”

  I crouch down so that at I'm eye level with him. “Listen to me. You're going to be fine. I know that it hurts right now, but eventually, you'll find someone better than me.”

  “There is no one better for me than you.” He squeezes my hand.

  “There will be. I promise.” I stand again.

  “It hurts so badly.” Peter breaks out into sobs. “I can't do this. I can't. Please, Willow. Please, don't leave me.”

  I don't even know what to do anymore. The best thing for him right now is to get some rest.

  “Hey. You need to sleep. I'll lie with you until you go to sleep,” I say before crawling into bed beside him.

  Thankfully, he lays down, too. I pull him into my arms and stroke his hair and hum to him. His crying dies down, sleepiness takes over, and then he passes out.

  I sigh as I look at him, feeling my guilt like a lead weight. I never even knew I was capable of hurting someone to this level. It makes me feel helpless and evil. It makes me feel like I led him on somehow. But I didn't lead him on. There was a time when I cared for him greatly. A time when my world revolved around him. What happened between us, I never could have predicted. I'm relatively inexperienced with dating. I didn't know then what I really needed. Now I do.

  I carefully lay Peter's head on his pillow and crawl off of the bed before going to the guest bedroom. I'm way too tired to drive home, and I don't want to leave because I can't lock the front door without a key.

  I curl up on top of the bed fully clothed and pass out, waking the next morning to the feeling of being gently shook and the sound of Peter saying my name. I blink up at him. He's dressed in a suit, and for a moment I think we're late for work. That makes me shoot up into a sitting position, though only seconds later I realize it's the weekend.

  “Are you alright?” He sits on the side of the bed, looking concerned.

  I rub the sleep from my eyes. “I'm fine. The question should be, are you alright?”

  “I'm fine. I metabolize alcohol fairly quickly. I just have a smidgeon of a headache.” He massages his temples.

  “Well,” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, “I guess I'll get out of your hair.”

  “You took care of me last night,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “Mhm.” I nod.

  “When you do things like that, it makes me think that you still care about me. That there's hope that we'll get back together.” He looks at me, but the hope he's speaking about doesn't reach his eyes.

  I drop my gaze to the comforter. “I'd like to think that you know by now that's not going to happen.”

  Peter clips his bottom lip between his teeth. “I still don't understand why you're not willing to try. I mean, Caleb has a girlfriend. And besides, he doesn't have feelings for you.”

  His words are like a knife to my heart. But the throbbing soon fades. “This isn't just about Caleb,” I tell him softly, finally ready to disclose the truth to him. “I'm afraid you've been dating an imposter.”

  “An imposter?” He quirks his head back.
<
br />   “I'm not the girl you thought I was.”

  “What do you mean?” His expression is pure confusion.

  “In truth, I'm not really myself when I'm around you. I'm the version of me that I think you want me to be.” I pause, trying to think of a better way to explain it. “I didn't really play tennis before I met you. Like...ever.”

  His eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I wrinkle my nose. “I'd never played baseball either. I don't really like sports. I just learned how to play them because Caleb told me you liked them, and I thought that if we shared common interests, it would help me to get close to you.

  “Dating you was like living in a different world. While I loved being with you, a lot of the things we did together made me uncomfortable because they just weren't me. And while we were dating, I tried so hard to be someone else that I lost myself.

  “The larger part of why I don't want to be with you anymore is because I know that I was wrong. Not only did I pursue you for all of the wrong reasons, but I changed who I was just to be with you. I gave you a false image of me because I wanted you to like me so badly. And I made myself miserable by forcing myself to be someone I wasn't.”

  He's smiling, and I'm not sure if I should be happy about that or not. I had honestly expected him to be pissed. I basically just told him that our entire relationship was a lie.

  “You have to be one of the most fascinating people I've ever met.” His eyes scan my face. “You are selfless to a fault. You'll make a great mother someday.”

  “Huh?” My mouth drops open for a fraction of a second. Where did that comment come from?

  “I wish you would have told me all of this from the beginning—been real with me from the beginning.” He glances down at his hands before looking at me again. “I want to know the real you.”

  Wow. This is really not going how I thought it would.

  “I don't even know the real me anymore. I need to get back to who that person is, and I can't do it while I'm dating you,” I confess. I've been confused as hell about so many things since Peter and I got together. I need some time to focus on myself for a while.

  “Alright. Then how about this,” he tells me. “You take as much time as you need to rediscover yourself, and when you're ready, I'll be waiting for you.”

  His expression is warm and genuine, and the fact that he doesn't hate me now makes me think that he's a better man than I ever gave him credit for. Some woman is going to be very lucky to have him someday, but it won't be me.

  I don't want to argue with him, but I also don't want to give him false hope. It's a shitty thing to do, but it will be a lot easier to break the connection with him now that we don't work in the same office anymore. I'll slowly fade away, and he'll realize that there's no going back.

  I return home with a heavy heart, wondering why doing the right thing feels so wrong. Not so much wrong as that it has my emotions in a downslide. These past few days have been hard for me, even though I'm not the one getting the shit end of the stick.

  Oh well. All things pass with time. In a few weeks, the pain will ease, and this will become a distant memory. Not having to see Peter every day should help.

  I keep my gaze on the floor as I come off of the elevator, taking slow thoughtful steps towards my apartment. If not for the sound of a door opening down the hall, I never would have looked up and seen Caleb. He tells Max to get away from the door before he picks up an armful of unfolded boxes propped up against the wall. Seeing the boxes spikes my heart with alarm, and I quicken my pace to get to him before he can disappear inside.

  “Hey,” I call to him.

  He pauses, glancing up at me, looking annoyed.

  “What are those for?” I nod towards the boxes.

  “I'm moving,” he informs me plainly.

  The spike pins my heart to the floor. Moving? No. He can't be. I don't want that.

  “Why?” I try not to let the hurt reach my voice.

  “The gym transferred me to another location. It will save me money on my commute to live closer.” He readjusts his grip on the boxes to keep them from sliding out of his grasp.

  “Oh.” I sulk.

  Caleb continues into his apartment, but I grab the door before he has a chance to shut it on me. “Well, can we hang out one more time before you leave?”

  He leans the boxes against his kitchen island before returning to me. It's obvious that my request makes him uncomfortable, and I'm scared he's going to tell me no. I'll understand if he does, though I won't like it. His girlfriend is a cunt, but I know he'll do whatever it takes to keep her happy. Considering that I don't mean much to him anymore, he might not think it worth the fight.

  “Yeah,” he says finally. “We should go ice skating.”

  “Ice skating?” I quirk my head back at the strange suggestion. “I've never been ice skating before.”

  “Yes, you have, though you didn't actually skate.” His eyes meet mine. “Remember the class field trip in high school. We came here to San Antonio and did the touristy thing. Then they took us ice skating.

  “I remember you sat in the bleachers while everyone else skated. You looked really sad...like you wanted to skate. But you didn't. You just sat there alone.”

  The aching in my chest doubles at the fact that he remembers that. I was so insignificant to him back then. I didn't think he even noticed me. For him to remember that...even though it was a painful time for me—it means so much.

  “I did want to skate back then,” I admit. “But I was afraid that the other kids would make fun of me. I could hear the jokes they would say before they even said them. Probably something like Shamu on ice.”

  “Well, they wouldn't be able to make those jokes now.” He smiles at me, looking me up and down.

  “No. They wouldn't.” I grin, thinking about how far I've come.

  “How about next weekend?”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Alright. Well, I should get back in there before Max decides that those boxes are chew toys. He's a stupid mutt sometimes.” Caleb shakes his head at Max.

  “Alright. I'll see you next weekend then.” I close the door and head back to my apartment.

  My emotions are in a swirl, but at the very pinnacle is sadness. I've barely made it inside before I burst into sobs. Now it really does feel like I'm losing everyone.

  The week passes like molasses, slow and sticky with boredom. Peter texts me, but I don't respond. Even when he asks if he's done something wrong, even when he begs, I continue to ghost him. There's no better way to get my point across than to not say anything at all. I'm not completely heartless, though. Each text causes me pain because I know I'm hurting him. The urge to respond is definitely there, but I know better.

  By Wednesday, he starts slowing down. On Friday, he doesn't text at all. And with the deafening silence of my phone, I've never felt more alone.

  The only thing I have to look forward to is my ice skating date with Caleb. Then after that...nothing. There's absolutely nothing to look forward to anymore.

  Saturday night comes, and I spend more time getting ready than I ever have before. Not that it's actually a date, but I want to look my best so that Caleb remembers me—so that maybe he'll think about what he's losing.

  I change my outfit three times before settling on a yellow blouse and a floral skirt. It's not exactly skating rink appropriate, so I make sure that I wear shorts underneath it just in case I fall and my skirt comes up. I curl my hair and spend a good hour doing my makeup to perfection. And when I show up on Caleb's doorstep, I know I've done a good job because he just stares at me for several seconds before he finally speaks. Yeah, I'll make him remember me tonight.

  We climb into his truck and drive to the rink. The second I put the ice skates on, I start questioning whether this was a good idea. I don't want to make an ass of myself.

  “It was probably smart to stay on the bleachers,” I tell Caleb as I stand, my legs wobbling in the
skates.

  “Oh stop. It's really not that hard.” He holds my hand to steady me.

  We make our way onto the ice, and my confidence falters even more as my feet begin to slide without me even trying. I keep an ironclad grip on the railing. Caleb skates around me like a pro, stopping in front of me so that we're facing each other and he's skating backward. Show off.

  He extends his hand to me, and I look at it. Then my eyes crawl up his arm to his face. His smile is magical, and I think about how much I longed to see him looking at me like this back in high school. All of the fantasies I had of him as a teenager come rushing back. And now we're here—together. He's the closest person to me right now. It's all that I ever wanted. And I just know it's all that I'll ever yearn for for the rest of my life.

  I slide my hand into his, and he leads me gently. These past several months, he's been my everything. My best friend. My psychologist. My trainer. My hero. He's been there for me every time I've needed him.

  As I follow his lead, I can't take my eyes off of him. The ice and the rink and everyone around us disappears as I think about the time I tripped after we played tennis. When our bodies were so close. Did I feel something then? Maybe I had, and I hadn't even noticed it. I was so focused on trying to hate him back then.

  But when we played Twister together at Peter's and our bodies collided, that I felt. I knew then that my feelings for him were starting to come back, but I tried so damn hard to ignore them because things were still fresh and new with Peter.

  I was a fucking idiot. Too blinded by my own selfish desires to see that what I actually needed in my life was right in front of me. I took Caleb for granted, and now I'm eating my mistakes. Now he's with someone else. My chance to be with him has passed. According to Peter, it was never there. But I'll always wonder what could have been.

  I suppose I'll never know now. Surely, once Caleb moves, I'll be getting the same treatment from him that I'm giving to Peter. He'll want me to forget about him. So I need to cherish tonight because it's the last night I'll probably ever get to spend in his presence.