Revenge Games (Revenge Games Duet Book 1)

by Sky Corgan

  “I don't want to date a bunch of people. I just want one, and I've already met him. All I need to do is figure out how to make him want me back. Then I'll have my forever.”

  My heart breaks for her. She could not have picked a worse guy to want her forever with, but I know that no amount of convincing is going to make her change her mind. But maybe when she sees what kind of man Peter is, she will. It's the only way to get her off of this path. And for that reason, I at least have to try to help her.

  “Fine,” I relent, nodding more to myself than her.

  “Fine?” She gives me a confused look.

  I lock my gaze with hers to show that I'm serious. “You want to date Peter, I'll see what I can do.”

  “Really?” Her face brightens up like a kid on Christmas morning who just got exactly what they asked for.

  “Really.” I sigh.

  Willow squeals. It startles Max so badly that he jumps back and barks. All I can do is grin at how adorable Willow looks as she hops up and down in my apartment.

  It's time for me to try and make her dream come true.

  4

  Willow

  To my surprise and pleasure, Caleb doesn't drag his feet on the issue anymore. The very next day, he invites me over to come up with a gameplan. I sit on his sofa, petting Max while Caleb paces in front of me looking deep in thought. Judging by his expression, you'd think this is going to be some difficult feat. It can't really be that hard. Can it?

  “You look like you have to take a really big dump,” I tell him dryly.

  He doesn't laugh. He simply stops pacing and looks at me, one hand holding up his elbow while his chin is tucked between the thumb and index finger of his other hand. “I'm trying to figure out where to begin.”

  “It's best to begin at the beginning.” I lean back against the sofa, wondering why he's making such a big deal about it.

  Max circles himself twice before lying at my feet.

  Caleb drops his hands to his sides. “I think the beginning is letting you know more about Peter. Not who he is at work, but who he really is.”

  “I'm listening.” And intrigued.

  He holds his finger up like a one. “One of the first things you should know about Peter is that he cusses like a sailor.”

  “Alright...” I reply hesitantly. Does he really think that's a big deal to me?

  “He lives alone in a loft downtown, and he only has the best stuff.”

  I'm not surprised that Peter is materialistic. He always looks pristine, and he drives multiple cars. There was never much of a mystery that the guy is loaded and enjoys his wealth.

  “He likes getting drunk and rowdy on the weekends with friends sometimes, but he's also super into physical fitness. And I don't just mean going to the gym. Peter plays a lot of sports. Sometimes, he goes to Austin on the weekends to play rugby and cricket. He also plays basketball, tennis, baseball, football, and volleyball. He's basically a sports nut.”

  My mouth falls agape. “Good lord, how does he keep up with all of that?”

  “I have no idea.” Caleb shakes his head. “I do know that he's currently on a baseball and volleyball team, though.”

  “Is he even going to have time to date?” I ask, more to myself than Caleb.

  “See. I told you, this guy is not good relationship material. He is incredibly self-involved.”

  “If he likes me enough, I'm sure he'll make time for me.” I fold my arms over my chest, not about to let Caleb weasel his way out of our deal now that he's agreed to it.

  He gives me a pained look before continuing, “Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I need to know where we're starting at. Has Peter ever acted differently towards you or treated you differently than anyone at work?”

  I take a moment to think about it. “No.”

  Caleb sighs before glancing away and rubbing his chin. “I'm not surprised. He's never mentioned you.”

  My heart sinks, and a sliver of anger races through me. “Hey. Am I here for you to help me or not?” I glare at him.

  He shakes his head. “That wasn't meant to be offensive. Peter filters through girls so quickly that he rarely even remembers their names. I don't remember the last time he told me about a girl by name. None of them are around long enough.”

  I'm not sure if that should make me feel better or worse.

  Caleb catches my gaze, and I can see concern mixed with his skepticism. “Are you really sure you're up for this, Willow? There's a really high potential for you to just get hurt again. Peter is a serial dater. Even on the excessively slim chance that I can get him to go out with you, the odds of him dropping you by the following weekend are pretty good.”

  I don't care, determined to prove him wrong. “I'm not as hopeless or stupid as you think I am. Now that you've explained it in fine detail, I know what I'm getting myself into, and I'm prepared for a less than favorable outcome.” I pause. “But there's not going to be a less than favorable outcome because you're Peter's best friend. You know exactly who he is and what he wants, and you're going to help me become what he wants.”

  “My God, you're stubborn.” He rolls his eyes at me.

  “I prefer to think of it as being tenacious.”

  “Whatever.” Caleb waves my choice of words away.

  I shift my weight. “So give me some lessons.”

  “Lessons?” He laughs. “How about I start by learning more about you, so I know what I actually need to change?”

  “Alright. Ask away.”

  “How much experience do you have at seducing men?”

  I blink a few times, surprised by the intimacy of the question. I had expected him to ask what I like to do in my free time. Not...this.

  I'm embarrassed by the answer, so I pinch my fingers together to show him that I have very little. And by very little, I mean none.

  “None.” He nods, not looking the least bit surprised. It makes me want to punch him in his pretty face, but I know that I have to endure his subtle mockery if I ever want the chance to date Peter.

  “Alright. Let's try something else, then. How many men have you slept with?”

  It feels like my jaw has just come unhinged. I try to recover quickly. “Why is that important?”

  “I'm not asking because I actually care. I'm asking because I need to know what you're comfortable with.” His expression is completely annoyed.

  I hug myself and turn away from him. “That's none of your business.”

  “I'm just trying to help you, you know.” Caleb sits beside me finally.

  Max instantly gets up and comes to him, wanting to be petted.

  “How would you know about seducing men anyway?” I scoot a few inches away from him.

  “Because I am a man.” The conversation seems draining to him. “But if you'd rather take lessons from a woman, then mimic that Becky girl.”

  “Becky,” I mouth her name.

  “The one you were at the gym with.” He gestures in the direction of the gym.

  Anger bubbles up inside of me as I realize what he's getting at. “Did you sleep with her?” I hiss.

  “No.” He laughs.

  I feel my body instantly relax. “Then why are you saying I should listen to her?”

  “Because she knows what she's doing.”

  Now I'm confused. “If she knows what she's doing, then how come you two haven't hooked up yet?”

  Caleb tilts his head to look at me. “I've been around the block a few times. I know all the games that girls play. I'm not falling for that shit.”

  I huff, though I'm not unhappy to hear that he doesn't seem interested in her. It would just be weird if they hooked up. Then I'd have to listen to Becky talk about it at work, and the thought just grosses me out.

  “I don't trust her advice,” I admit. “She told me not to throw myself at Peter. That it wouldn't work. Yet she threw herself at you at the gym.”

  “Different things work for different men,” Caleb mirrors what Becky told me ear
lier. “For Peter, throwing yourself at him will only work if you want to have sex with him. If you want to date him, he needs to think that you're something special. Easy girls are a dime a dozen.”

  “Nice to know,” I say dryly, picturing Becky as being one of the easy girls he's talking about.

  “But you're never going to get him looking the way you do now.” His eyes rake me up and down. It makes me shiver unpleasantly, like he's assessing me.

  “What's wrong with how I am now?” I glance down at the gray blouse and terracotta slacks I'm wearing. It's dressy enough. The blouse is sheer and layered over a tank top. I thought it looked cute. Today, my hair is pulled back into a ponytail. There are a few loose strands here and there, but that's just because it's the end of the day already.

  “Everything you wear is at least two sizes too big and not sexy at all.” He gestures to my clothing. “You lost all of this weight, yet you're afraid to show off your body.”

  “These clothes are a lot smaller than the ones I used to wear,” I insist.

  “It's not good enough, Willow. You're trying to seduce a man with refined taste. And for that reason,” he twists around and places his hands on my shoulders, demanding my full attention, “we need to give you a makeover.”

  5

  Caleb

  I can't believe I'm going this far to help Willow get herself into a train wreck. I agreed to this, though, so I'm going to see it through.

  I scoff at myself as we pull up in front of the mall. Like most guys, shopping is not my favorite thing. I remember all of the times that my exes dragged me to the mall and made me follow them around as their glorified bag holder. Never any fun. I'm sure this won't be any different, but I don't trust Willow to pick out the right stuff on her own if I give her a description. She's still not comfortable with her body, so I already know she'll probably talk herself into getting a larger size that doesn't compliment her figure. I'm here to keep that from happening.

  “Are you ready for your first big adventure?” I turn to her as I kill the engine.

  She nods. The look of excitement and determination on her face makes me grin. Maybe seeing her happy will make this less of a painful excursion for me. She sure has a different energy than any other girl I've hung around.

  I start by dragging her to the hair salon. She hesitates in front of it, obviously not expecting that this would be a part of the process.

  “I'm getting a haircut?” Her expression has a hint of panic to it.

  “Peter likes girls with short hair,” I inform her.

  “Short hair.” Willow's eyes practically bug. “Like how short?”

  “Shorter than mine.” I point to my hair.

  The panic doubles. It looks like she's about to run for the door.

  “Just kidding. Not that short. Stop freaking out. Let's go in and look at one of the style books. I'm sure we can find something you like.” I grab her by the wrist and practically drag her inside.

  Since she seems reluctant, I sit her down with a style book while I go to make her appointment. When I come to sit beside her, she's pouting, her entire face sulking in misery.

  “I don't like any of these.” Her finger skims the open pages. “They're not going to look good with my face.”

  I lock my gaze with hers. “Do you want to get Peter or not?”

  “Yes.” She deflates a little. “I just feel like this is a bit extreme. Isn't long hair in right now anyway?”

  I take the book from her and pull it between us, leafing through the pages. “Peter likes girls with short hair because he likes girls who are different. There are a million girls with long hair out there. A girl who can pull off short hair really gets him going.”

  “That's the problem, though.” She narrows her eyes at me before pointing to her face. “I can't pull it off. My face is too round.”

  I sigh. “You have body dysmorphic disorder from being overweight for so long. You don't see yourself as the rest of the world does.”

  “I look in the mirror every damn day, Caleb. No one knows what I look like better than I do,” she insists like a brat.

  I take a deep breath to still my nerves. My God, is she ever working my patience. “If you don't want to do this, then you don't have to. I'm just trying to help.” I hold my hands up in surrender.

  Willow huffs, her gaze drifting out into the mall. She stomps her feet a few times, kicking at imaginary dirt. The little fit she's throwing is so childish, but it's also kind of amusing. No doubt, she'll walk out soon. I'll take that as a sign that she doesn't want to pursue Peter anymore, and we can put this whole ordeal behind us.

  “Fine.” She folds her arms over her chest with a sigh.

  “Fine, you're ready to leave?” I bend to catch her gaze, hopeful.

  “No. I'll get the damn haircut.” She kicks her foot out a final time before settling.

  I'm surprised by her determination.

  “But I want you to pick something for me,” she adds. “I don't know what would look good, and I'm sick of looking at that stupid book.” She glares at the style book as if she wishes she could set it on fire with her eyes.

  I exhale before quickly flipping through the style book. It would be easy for me to just pick anything, but I really do want to help her, so I analyze the shape of her face and the color of her hair and the hue of her eyes and decide on what I think would make her the most attractive. It's not until the stylist has called her back that I make up my mind.

  “Do this,” I tell her, pointing at the picture.

  “I want to see.” Willow looks at my reflection in the stylist's mirror.

  “You don't get to see.” I jerk the book away from her. “Not until it's done. I don't want you complaining about it or changing your mind at the last minute.”

  “You're going to have her shave me bald, aren't you?” She narrows her eyes at me in suspicion.

  This girl. I shake my head. She really doesn't trust me.

  “Do a good job.” I pat the stylist on the shoulder before leaving to sit in the waiting room.

  About thirty minutes later, Willow returns to me with a strained smile. It's not until we're out of the hair salon and away from earshot that she lays into me for the sleek bob with bangs that I picked out. It's miles away from her long wavy tresses, but it slims down her face immensely and gives her a sophisticated look.

  “What in the fuck did you have them do to me?” She grabs me by the front of my shirt, shaking me in front of God and everyone else. She's so upset that her eyes are starting to brim with tears.

  “You don't like it?” I brush her hands off of me.

  Willow points to her hair. “This is the same haircut I had when we were in high school. Of course, I don't fucking like it. I spent all of that time growing out my hair so I wouldn't look like that anymore, and now I'm back to square one because of you.” She makes like she's going to kick me, but I jump out of the way.

  “Calm down.” I glance around to see who's watching us. She's making a scene, but I have to admit it's kind of cute.

  “How can you expect me to calm down? I look like a bridge troll now.” She covers her face with her hands.

  “Oh, stop it.” I take a step forward and pull her hands down. “You hate it because it didn't compliment your face back then. You're not the same woman anymore. You seem to keep forgetting that.”

  “I have the same face, Caleb,” Willow seethes, making my name sound like a curse word.

  “No, you don't. Remember, I didn't even recognize you when I saw you again. Listen.” I take a deep breath. “I know you don't like it right now, but just give it a few days. I am telling you that you look absolutely stunning. And I'm not just saying that because I picked the style out for you. Peter will like it, too. I promise.”

  Hearing me say that Peter will like it seems to calm her a bit. She tries to push a strand of hair behind her ear, but it doesn't really work since her bangs aren't long enough. “Really?”

  “Really. Now stop
fretting. We still need to shop.” I grab her by the wrist and start pulling her into one of the stores.

  We begin our shopping excursion with me allowing her to pick out some things. Not surprisingly, everything she chooses is several sizes too big and not very flattering. I don't even let her take any of it into the dressing room. How she survived this long without learning how to properly dress, I'll never know.

  Despite my initial thought of hating the experience, it's actually kind of fun using her as a human Barbie doll. Of course, she complains about nearly everything I grab for her to try on. It's either too short, too tight, or it makes her look fat. That's her talking, not me. I think she looks great in just about everything she puts on.

  I do my best to match her style with what I know Peter likes to see women wearing. I do have to admit, though, that I threw in a few items for my own pleasure. Things I thought she would look cute or sexy in. For the most part, I tried to stick to more modest pieces that I knew she'd be comfortable wearing but that also have a sensuality to them. Pencil skirts with a slit in the back that cover her thighs but also make her legs look tempting. Blouses with keyholes in the front to give just a taste of cleavage.

  “My God, this stuff is expensive.” She gawks at the price tags on most of the items.

  “We're at the mall, dear,” I remind her.

  “I'm on a budget. I can't afford all of this stuff.” She scowls at our shopping cart, which is draped with clothing.

  I know this might be a train wreck suggestion, but I do understand where she's coming from on the money front. “Then just memorize the styles and go to the thrift store when you have the time and try to pick out something similar.”

  Willow nods, but surprisingly she does purchase a few things before we leave. I'm thankful because I kind of don't trust her judgment without me standing right behind her.

  “Do you have any nice lingerie?” I ask as we pass by Victoria's Secret.