Revenge Games (Revenge Games Duet Book 1)

by Sky Corgan

  I frown, pausing to pull a pad of fake parking tickets out of my purse. I fill out all of the necessary information, tear one off, and slide it under his windshield wiper. Jackass. Maybe I'm not done harassing him after all.

  Feeling smug and satisfied, I continue on to the nearest gym. The guy at the counter gives me the grand tour, I sign up, and then I climb onto one of the treadmills and set it for one hour.

  I'm about fifteen minutes into my workout when I see Caleb walk in out of my peripheral vision.

  You've got to be fucking kidding me! Does God hate me or something? Am I being punished for everything bad that I've done this past week, because I can't seem to get away from this asshole.

  Fuck. I wonder if they'll give me a refund. The next gym is only a few miles down the road.

  That's it. I'll try my best to ignore him, complete my workout, and then tell the people at the counter that I changed my mind and want to cancel my contract. Hopefully, they'll have mercy on me. If not, I'm sure I can make up some bullshit excuse that would fall into the criteria of logical cancellation requests.

  Thankfully, Caleb doesn't seem to notice me as he goes into the dressing room to change and then heads straight to the free weights. Just knowing he's around zaps my motivation. My legs suddenly feel ten pounds heavier a piece. The time I have left, more like several hours.

  I want to groan and pout and jump up and down like a child throwing a tantrum, but I also know that if I leave the gym now, I won't go to another one to finish my workout. I will be defeated and done for the day, and I don't want that. Any shred of laziness needs to be abolished for the sake of me not returning to who I was before.

  I do my best to ignore Caleb, keeping my eyes on the televisions mounted on the wall. As luck would have it, the free weights are in front of the cardio equipment, but Caleb is over to the far right side, so it's easier to pretend that he's not there as opposed to if he was working out right in front of me. Still, every time a commercial comes on, my peripheral vision wanders over to the right, and I want to audibly groan from the knowledge that we're occupying the same space.

  It's not until my workout is halfway over that I shout an internal hoorah and allow my glance to fully sweep over to where Caleb is. When it does, my heart catches in my throat, and I literally choke, losing my footing and practically flying off the back of the treadmill. Half of the gym turns to look at me, including Caleb and his new workout buddy, and I turn about fifty shades of red.

  This is definitely not how I ever wanted Peter Burgett to see me. Red and sweaty and a bumbling mess. Yet there he is, looking at me with those gorgeous dark eyes, the faintest hint of amusement painted across his perfect lips. He averts his gaze almost as soon as I see him, perhaps not wanting to make me feel embarrassed. Caleb gives me a too-happy wave, and then they continue with the conversation they were having.

  I grab the towel from my treadmill and wipe the sweat from my brow, internally mewling at how terrible I must look. Thankfully, they seem more focused on working out than staring at me. I just know that they're talking about me, though, and that makes my face burn.

  Everything in me wants to run out of the gym and never look back, but that would be a new level of pathetic. Besides, I'm here because I want to get in shape for Peter. If he sees me working out, he'll know that I care about my body. Surely, that should give me some points.

  I exhale deeply and climb back onto the treadmill. For the next thirty minutes, my peripheral vision stays fixed on Caleb and Peter. Peter must have been the friend who works at Advanced Data Solutions that Caleb was talking about. At the time, I didn't think much of it, because what are the fucking odds.

  All thoughts of canceling my gym membership are erased. Sure, I'll have to suffer through dealing with Caleb. But if I get to spend extra time in Peter's presence, it will be worth it. Even if we don't ever talk, just being around him makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  I finish my workout with a smile on my face, thinking about how this will inadvertently bring Peter and me closer. I walk out of the gym with pep in my step, proud of myself for sticking to my resolve and getting through the workout.

  I'm only a few feet away from the building when I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I turn to see Caleb jogging after me.

  “What do you want?” I avert my gaze.

  “You are really petty, you know that,” he tells me, but he's still smiling.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The parking ticket.” He leans slightly to try to force me to look at him.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” I huff, sticking my nose up to him.

  “Oh, come on, Willow. Who else would have done that? I know it was your handwriting.” He folds his arms over his chest.

  I blow out a breath, my shoulders dropping an inch. “You shouldn't have parked over the line. It was incredibly rude.”

  “I hadn't even been parked there for very long. I was in a hurry.”

  “Well, just be glad I'm not a real cop, or you would have gotten fined.”

  He sighs, “Is it going to be like this the entire time that we live next door to each other?”

  “Probably,” I admit.

  Caleb laughs, drawing my attention to him. “You are something else.”

  “Hey. You deserve it.” I point at him, my anger flaring.

  “Sure, sure.” He waves my outburst away.

  I know that the conversation is over, and I should let him go, but I allow my curiosity to get the best of me. “So, you know Peter?” I nod toward the gym.

  Caleb rakes his hand through his hair, his triceps bulging in the tank top he's wearing from the pump from his workout. “Oh, yeah. He's a client of mine. I assume you know him from work.”

  “A client?” I quirk my head back. It's just come to me that I have no idea what Caleb does for a living, not that I would have cared before now.

  “Yeah. I'm a personal trainer here,” he says proudly.

  I groan internally. Great. That means I'll probably be seeing a lot of him at the gym.

  “Ah.” I just nod, unsure of what else to say.

  “He's also my friend,” Caleb continues. “He was one of my first clients when I started working here, and we've become good friends over the year. I'd say he's my best friend here in San Antonio.”

  What are the fucking odds?

  Now I'm internally leaping for joy. The man I'm after is best friends with my next door neighbor. Too bad I can't stand my next door neighbor. Maybe I should stop being such a bitch to Caleb. I don't want it to get back to Peter that I'm a vindictive cunt. That's not very attractive. I also don't want it to get back to him that I used to be fat.

  Oh shit! Maybe them being best friends isn't a good thing after all. Did I just sabotage my chances of getting with Peter by being mean to Caleb? How could I have known that they would end up being best friends? God, fate is cruel. I must have pissed off a lot of people in my previous life to deserve the one I'm living right now.

  “You're lucky to have friends,” I say bitterly, more thinking out loud than anything else.

  “We could be friends if you stop being such a butthead to me.” He grins. “All of that shit is in the past, Willow.”

  “It's like yesterday to me,” I grumble. If he only knew how little happened in my life, he'd understand why the wound is still so fresh.

  “So that's it then,” Caleb huffs. “You're never going to forgive me.”

  I press my lips into a tight line, knowing that what I'm thinking is probably insane, but Caleb already thinks I'm insane, so what's wrong with topping the cake with an insanity cherry. “You want me to forgive you?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He nods.

  “You really want me to forgive you?” I take a step closer to him.

  “Yes...” He gives me a queer look, making it sound more like a question.

  “I'll forgive you if,” I lean in to whisper into his ear, “you help me hook up with him.” I point back
at where Peter is lifting weights.

  Caleb falls away from me, bellowing with laughter. I glance around quickly, making sure that no one is watching us. He's so damn loud that if anyone were outside, they'd definitely notice.

  After a few moments, he stills, wiping his eye with the back of his hand as if my request was so comical that it made him cry. When he realizes I'm not smiling, his expression goes deadpan. “Wait. You're serious?”

  I fold my arms over my chest and nod.

  “You want...” His eyes shoot over to Peter for a second before settling back on my face.

  I nod again.

  “Willow.” He furrows his brow, and I already know he's rejecting the idea, which hurts more than it should. Caleb is silent for a moment before he speaks again. “I've got to get back inside.”

  “So that's a no then.” I catch him before he has a chance to run off.

  “I'll think about it,” he says with a chuckle before opening the door to the gym and disappearing inside.

  “Asshole,” I grumble at him once the door is closed.

  No man has ever been more perfect.

  I stare at Peter in my peripheral vision as he leans over to help the woman sitting to my right.

  He's handsome. He makes good money. He's ambitious. He works out. And he smells absolutely delicious.

  I inhale deeply and then audibly sigh out my contentedness from being so close to him. If he hears me, he doesn't acknowledge it. He keeps strictly professional, which is another thing that I admire about him.

  As soon as he walks away, Becky taps me on my shoulder. My smile falters as I think about having to tear my eyes away from Peter to talk to her.

  “What?” I try not to sound rude, but it comes out that way anyway.

  “You are so damn obvious,” she giggles at me.

  “What do you mean?” I screw my face.

  She brings her hands up beneath her chin in a little heart and begins to mock me. “Oh, Peter, you look so handsome. Oh, Peter, you smell so good. Oh, Peter, let me spread my legs for you.”

  I slap her leg under the table, and she winces.

  “Ow.” She pinches the bridge of her nose before continuing, “You're never going to get a guy like that doting on every little thing about him.”

  “What are you talking about? I wasn't doting.” I glance back at Peter. He's standing near the door now, talking to his business partner.

  “Guys like that don't like girls who throw themselves at them.”

  “Why not?” I turn back to her.

  “You think he hasn't had a million girls throw themselves at him?” She nods towards Peter.

  I wouldn't know. I know nothing about him.

  Becky looks at me as if I'm stupid. “Guys like him enjoy the chase. You give them subtle little hints that you like them, then you let them follow the crumbs.”

  I have no idea what she's talking about, but I don't feel like asking. The fact that she seems to think that she has him all figured out pisses me off slightly. While I'm not sure whether or not to discredit her advice, I decide to file it away in the to-be-referenced-later box. Right now, I still need to figure out how to make Peter notice that I exist.

  The day is long and boring and filled with trying to figure out how to get closer to Peter. No matter how much I think about it, though, I don't have a plan. By the time I leave to go home at the end of the day, I'm feeling somewhat defeated. To be honest with myself, nothing seems to have gone right since I moved here.

  That's why there's TV. You watch TV to escape your shitty life, and that's exactly what I plan to do. Well, after I mount my TV to my wall, that is. It's been sitting on this tiny cheap stand for the past week, and every time I look at it, I think of how much space it's taking up in my small living room. Besides, I've always wanted to have a wall-mounted TV. It looks expensive and fancy. At least, to me it does.

  I stopped by the hardware store on my way home a few days ago and bought everything I need to mount it, though I haven't gotten around to it yet because of laziness. This will give me a project to do to keep my mind off of Peter. And when I finish mounting the television, I'll feel a burst of happiness from having accomplished something. That's kind of important right now since my morale is low.

  I follow the instructions to the T, making sure that I find the support beam in the wall before screwing it all together. I set my TV on the stand and then stand back to admire my work with an ear to ear grin.

  Congratulations, Willow! You did something right.

  Seconds later, the shelf shifts and my television comes crashing down onto the floor. I cringe as it happens, reaching out to catch the TV and then recoiling back once I realize that I could potentially hurt myself. It hits the carpet screen first, and I shatter into sobs, collapsing onto the floor next to it.

  I barely have time to fall apart before there's a knock on the door. I don't really want to answer it, but my feet move automatically. When I open it, Caleb immediately pokes his head into my apartment.

  “Are you alright? I heard something fall.”

  “It was my TV.” I sniffle, still mewling, not caring that he's watching.

  He pushes past me, invading my personal space. The second he sees what happened, he gets to work checking my television.

  “It's not cracked,” he tells me with a smile before going to plug it in.

  When I see that it still works, my tears begin to dry. Thank God. I really don't think I could handle anything else going wrong. This is seriously the only good thing that's happened since I moved here, that my blunder didn't cause more problems.

  “You've never done this before, have you?” Caleb says as he grabs the screwdriver from the kitchen island and gets to work fiddling with the wall mount.

  Feeling defeated, I sit on the sofa and just watch him, hugging myself for comfort. “It should be obvious,” I weakly bark at him.

  I swear, nothing can kill this guy's mood. He smiles all the while as he repositions the mount correctly, sets my TV on top of it, and then plugs everything in for me. When he's done, he stands back to admire his work.

  “There. All done.”

  “Thanks, Caleb.” I hate myself for having to show him gratitude, but the rest of my night would have been shit if he hadn't shown up to save the day.

  “No problem. If you have any more big projects like this that you're uncertain about, don't hesitate to come get me.” He walks over to me and pats me on the shoulder, which makes me shy away from him.

  I want to tell him that I hate him, but that would be inappropriate right now, especially after he just helped me. Instead, I say, “This doesn't make me forgive you.”

  “I didn't come for your forgiveness,” he informs me. “I came because I heard a loud crashing sound and I was worried about you.”

  Worried about me...The words linger with me for several seconds, but then I quickly brush them away. He probably wasn't really worried about me. He was probably just being nosy. Maybe he was even hoping that I got hurt so that he could rescue me and I'd have to forgive him.

  “Well, I guess that's it then.” Caleb takes a deep breath before setting the screwdriver back down on the island and heading for the door.

  “Wait,” I call after him, not wanting to miss my opportunity to probe him.

  “What?” He turns back to me.

  “What's your plan for getting Peter and I together?” My voice is dead serious.

  His entire body seems to sag. “There is no plan for getting you and Peter together.”

  “What do you mean there's no plan?” I stiffen. “You want to be forgiven, don't you?”

  “You don't want to date Peter.” He waves the idea away like it's crazy.

  “Why not? Do you not think I'm good enough for him?” the offense is plain in my tone.

  I'm sure that's what it is. He remembers me from when I was fat. He doesn't want his best friend to date a fat loser like me.

  “It's not that.” Caleb gives me a pained look, and I
can tell that this conversation makes him highly uncomfortable.

  “What then?” I press.

  The words come out in a hesitant string. “Peter isn't the kind of guy you think he is. I don't think he would be good for you.”

  “How do you know who would be good for me or not? You don't even know me anymore,” I huff.

  “No,” he admits. “But I know who you used to be. You were always a sweet girl. And I know him. Peter...he's not a sweet guy.” Caleb shakes his head.

  “Oh? Tell me about him.” I pat the sofa next to me, moving over so that Caleb can come sit down. He does so apprehensively.

  “Peter is a player,” he tells me, staring straight forward as if it's some horrible secret.

  “So? Players can be tamed. I read about it in books all the time,” I insist, not put off by the information at all. That just makes him more of a challenge, which I shouldn't like, but I do.

  Caleb turns to me, looking serious. “Life isn't a fairytale, Willow.”

  “You think I don't know that.” I glare at him. “No one knows that better than I do. I've had the worst fucking life imaginable. Do you have any idea what it was like growing up in my household, with a mother who was one step away from being legally insane and a father who was never there because he had to work so hard to support all of us?

  “No, Caleb, life isn't a fairytale. But if I can make it through that and have turned out okay, then surely this isn't impossible either.”

  I expect him to have a retort ready, but he doesn't. He simply stands and heads for the door.

  “Hey,” I call to him. “I thought you wanted my forgiveness.”

  He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, glancing over his shoulder at me. For once, he's not smiling. “I'm never going to get it, so what does it matter.”

  And then he's gone.

  If I said it wasn't a blow to my ego, I'd be lying. All I keep thinking is that Caleb doesn't think that I'm capable of taming a man like Peter Burgett, which means he doesn't think I'm good enough. It's like being back in school all over again. I'm never good enough. No matter what I do, it's not enough.

  Those negative thoughts keep me in a foul mood for the remainder of the night. No amount of reality television and romantic movies can cheer me up because I don't see my happily ever after on the horizon.