“She doesn’t want me around, Belle,” I said on a sigh. “She made that perfectly clear. Why would I waste my time with someone who doesn’t give a shit about me?”
“Because you want her just as much as she wants you.”
“I’m not saying that’s not true,” I conceded. “But at what point does it go from me being persistent and romantic to me being pathetic and weak? Or worse — to not listening to what she is telling me she wants and respecting that.” I shook my head, stopping at the railing again and staring off in the distance. “She took another guy home, right in front of me. And then she called me and asked me to be friends. I mean, seriously,” I said, almost laughing. “How much more of a sign can she give me?”
“She didn’t take him home.”
I paused. “What?”
“Andy. When I went outside, she was already on her way back into the bar to talk to you. I told her to wait until she was sober.”
My heart stopped in my throat, kicking back to life somewhere in my chest where it was supposed to be.
“She told Andy to get lost,” Belle continued. “And I made sure he did what she said. Andy went back inside the bar, Gemma went home with me — and she went to bed alone.”
She hadn’t taken him home? I searched my memory of that night, wondering how I missed Andy coming back inside the bar. I couldn’t remember seeing him again. Then again, I couldn’t remember seeing anything other than the red blazing behind my eyelids as I managed my way through the last of my shift.
Belle was quiet as I processed.
“She still called me the next day and told me she wanted to be friends…” I said after a moment, though my heart squeezed in protest under my rib cage, telling me to go after her even though she’d told me to leave it alone. I was torn between listening to her, respecting her wishes, and wanting to believe her best friend and my own intuition that said she was interested in me.
What a fucking gray area.
Belle stayed quiet a long time, not answering me, and then there was a long huff on the other end.
“Fine. You’re right. You should just give up. I mean, I’m sure you haven’t thought about her once since that night, anyway, right?”
My jaw clenched, stomach churning.
“And I’m sure you don’t care that she’s got another date lined up for tomorrow’s game, that she could potentially take that guy home with her — even if she didn’t do that with Andy.”
I gritted my teeth more.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve completely moved on and filed her away in that box of normal, boring, dime-a-dozen girls who got away. I’m sorry I even called, I’m wasting your time.”
But Belle didn’t hang up, she just paused, waiting for my response because she knew I’d have one.
“You made your point,” I managed between clenched teeth, another long exhale leaving my chest. But I still wasn’t sold. It didn’t matter how much Gemma had been on my mind — she’d asked me to fuck off as politely as she could.
Then again, if she’d meant that, why was her best friend calling me?
I wanted to believe Belle — if for no other reason than because what she was saying was what I wanted to hear. But, I also cared about Gemma, and I didn’t want to push her away. I had already settled on being her friend — in whatever capacity I could be.
“Why do you care?” I asked after a moment, picking at the paint chipping off the wood of our porch railing. “You see the way she acts with me, and you were there Monday night. I’m sure you also talked to her the next day, before she even called me.”
“Exactly,” she said, as if the answer was obvious. “I was there. I see everything you do, but I know her better than you do, too — probably better than anyone. She was sick the next morning when she woke up, Zach. All day, actually. And whether she wants to admit it or not, she likes you. She’s just terrified.”
I nodded, because I knew that fear all too well. There was only one girl I’d ever dated and told I loved her, and she’d turned her back on me as soon as my promise of going pro was out the window. I knew what betrayal felt like, how long that sting lasted. It was enough to never want to try again.
“I know it seems like I’m being a dick best friend,” she continued when I didn’t say anything. “I mean, here Gemma is telling us both what she wants. I should listen. I should just… back off. But, I love her,” she said on a sigh. “And that’s why I can’t listen to what she says, not when everything she’s not saying is speaking so much louder. She’s told me before to save her from herself, to do for her what she would do for me. And, well… I believe this is one of those scenarios.”
“I get that, I really do,” I said. “But… instead of trying to read her, to say you know what’s best, why not just listen to what she’s telling you, what she’s telling me?”
“Because,” she answered with a huff, exasperated. She caught a breath before she continued. “I’m just… I’m tired of watching my best friend hurt and not doing anything to try to fix it. She has done so much for me, Zach… so much.”
Her voice faded then, and for some reason, my heart squeezed again — for Belle this time instead of Gemma. I didn’t know much about her, but I knew she loved Gemma fiercely.
She was the kind of friend anyone would be lucky to have.
“I like you,” she finally said when she’d taken a breath. “You’re a good guy. You’re a fighter. No one has ever fought for Gemma in her life.” She paused. “And she’s the kind of girl who deserves to be fought for.”
I rolled my lips together, swallowing down a knot of emotion at her words. Maybe it was because I was honored she saw so much in me, or maybe it was because I was sad she saw so much in her best friend that Gemma tried so desperately to hide.
“Alright,” I said, nodding. “I’m listening.”
“Are you? Because I don’t want the half-ass version of Zach Bowen. I need the full on third quarter, four points down, twenty seconds to land a hoop Zach Bowen.”
I frowned. “Literally none of that makes sense.”
“Whatever. I’m not a sports girl. What I’m asking is, do you still want her?”
My chest tightened, a flash of her smile assaulting me like the answer I already knew I had. “I want her. I want to fight for her.”
Belle let out a relieved breath, lowering her voice like she was telling me a secret. “Good. Now that we got all that out of the way, brace yourself for the crazy.”
“I’m just now supposed to brace for that?”
She laughed. “Well, let’s just say that I know my best friend, and while I know she has feelings for you, that doesn’t mean this is going to be easy.” Belle paused. “We might have to do something a little… drastic… to wake her up.”
Something told me I was going to regret my next question, but I was already in too deep. It really was like being in the last quarter, down by seven, coach screaming at the entire team in a huddle for us to give everything we had left to clinch the win.
Belle was right. Gemma was worth fighting for.
And I was all in.
“What do you have in mind?”
Zach
I couldn’t stop tapping the heel of my foot as we watched the teams warm up the next afternoon.
It was an early game, kick-off at one pm, but even with the earlier start, we couldn’t escape the chill of October in Illinois. Gone were the warm days of summer, fall in full effect now, and the gray sky matched my mood and general outlook on the day.
This was a bad idea.
Belle wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted to do something drastic to get Gemma’s attention. Not only was I here at the game, knowing Gemma would be here soon, too, with her date — but I also brought a date.
Belle.
“God, I would pick the first game all season that’s been cold,” she said, shivering a little as she tucked her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. It was tight, hugging her slim frame, and her jeans had strategical
ly ripped holes up and down her thighs. She didn’t exactly dress to be warm, but then again, she wasn’t there to be comfortable.
She was there to provoke her best friend.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked, foot still bouncing as I watched the field. “I feel like this could really piss her off.”
“That’s the point.” Belle propped her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. “Look, this is the perfect way to call her on her bullshit. If she really just wants to be your friend, then it won’t matter to her that you brought another girl.”
“Even if it’s her best friend?”
“Well, yeah, okay, so it’s a little bit of a jab,” she admitted. “But she’ll be more pissed at me than she will be at you, and once she loses it and goes off on me, I can give her the reality slap.”
“This just sounds like everything she would never want us to do.” I shook my head. “I don’t know, I think we should call it. I don’t feel great about the plan.”
“Zach Bowen, listen to me,” Belle said, her little teeth chattering. “I know this is kind of crazy. I realize we are playing with fire. I am also fully aware that Gemma told us what she wanted and we are blatantly disrespecting that.” She paused, sincerity falling over her features. “But… just trust me when I say that I know my best friend. And if what I think is actually happening is true, then this will snap her out of everything. And she’ll finally talk to me. And to you.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Well, then, she’ll probably slap me and you and hate us both forever and that’ll be the end of it all.”
“Great.”
“But I don’t think it’ll go like that.”
I chuckled. “Of course you don’t. Let me ask you this. What if she doesn’t give a shit that I’m here, or that you’re here with me?”
Belle smiled at that, cocking one brow. “Again, trust me. She’ll care.”
I wasn’t as sure as she was, but regardless, I’d signed on. So, I reached forward for my beer, taking a drink and trying to settle my nerves. If anything, it would still be a fun day. I could watch football, hang out with Belle, and worst-case scenario, Gemma would prove that she really did just want to be my friend by not caring that I was there with someone else. If that were the case, then maybe I could finally move on and put her behind me.
Then again, maybe Belle really did know her as well as she said she did, and maybe she really did want me, too.
That little thread of hope was enough to make me smile. I felt it when Gemma looked at me, when she blushed any time I touched her, but her words and actions at the bar Monday night made me question everything.
She was like a Rubik’s Cube in a blind man’s hand — impossible to figure out.
And yet I was the blind man determined to try.
Belle leaned over, threading her arm through mine. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” she said, brushing a piece of my hair from my face.
I frowned, looking at her like she was crazy. “You told me to.”
Belle widened her eyes, still smiling as she spoke through her teeth. “I’m so excited to be here.”
It was then that I glanced behind her, just in time to see Gemma stop dead in her tracks on her way through the aisle to her seats.
My heart kicked to a thundering gallop at the sight of her, its rhythm racing in my ears as I tore my gaze away quickly and brought my attention back to Belle. I smiled at her, tapping her nose and pretending like I didn’t see Gemma behind her.
“Of course, I’m glad you came,” I said.
Belle smirked. “Game time,” she whispered. Then, she turned in her seat to face the field, smile growing when she pretended like she’d just noticed Gemma. “Oh! Hey! There you are!”
Belle stood, wrapping Gemma in a hug, though she was stiff in her arms. One hand held a beer, the other a hot dog, and her eyes were wide and zeroed in on me as her best friend held her. I stood, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jeans as I put on my game face.
“You must be Jordan,” Belle said next, releasing Gemma and reaching a hand back to the guy standing behind her. He was tall, lean, with the build of a soccer player or a golfer. He wore a navy blue Bears sweater, an orange and white plaid shirt cuffed underneath it, and khakis.
“Hey,” he said, smiling wide. He had the smile of a news anchor. “Yeah, nice to meet you…”
“Belle,” she answered for him. “I’m Gemma’s best friend. This is Zach,” she said, gesturing back to me. “My date.”
Jordan leaned past Gemma and Belle both to shake my hand, and the entire time we said our greetings, I watched Gemma out of the corner of my eye.
She was steaming.
Her cheeks were red, and though I could have assumed it was from the brisk chill in the air, I knew it wasn’t. She still hadn’t said a word, eyes wide and murderous as she flicked her gaze back and forth from me, to Belle, and back again.
And though I schooled my features, keeping my focus on Belle, I couldn’t help but check Gemma out in my peripheral. Her jeans were a dark denim, hugging her hips and thighs like they were painted on. She had on a hoodie, just like Belle, but it was a little baggier, covering her curves but giving her the girl-next-door feel that she pulled off so well. Her makeup was flawless, eyes outlined in a smoky charcoal, and her hair was flowing in soft curls over her shoulders.
She was beautiful. Just like always.
“Here, sit,” Belle said, pulling me down to sit next to her as she gestured to Gemma’s seats. “Oh, yum, a hot dog. I definitely want one of those,” she added, looking up at me. “Can we get one of those in a bit?”
“Whatever you want,” I answered easily, propping my arm up on the back of the chair behind her.
Gemma watched that arm for a brief second, then she tore her gaze away, plopping down into the seat next to Belle as Jordan took the one on the other side of her.
I half wanted to hide, half wanted to trade Belle spots and sit next to Gemma. I didn’t want to play this game. I just wanted to talk to her.
Maybe that’s exactly what I should do…
As if she could read my mind, Belle tugged on my arm, pulling me back into her plan.
“This is so fun,” she said, bouncing.
“You hate football.”
It was the first thing Gemma had said, and as soon as the words left her lips like they were poisonous darts, she cleared her throat, forcing a smile.
“I mean, it’s not really your thing, I’m surprised you’re here.”
“Well, maybe a zebra can change its stripes, after all,” Belle said in a sing-song voice. She leaned closer to me, looking up at me through her lashes. “Besides, these seats have a great view.”
I smiled, but before I could respond, there was a commotion in Gemma’s seat. Belle and I both looked over in time to watch ketchup and cheese drip from Gemma’s hand onto the concrete between her legs.
She held her squished hot dog out and away from her clothes, cursing under her breath.
“Here,” her date said, handing her a stack of napkins. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Gemma clipped. She shoved her ruined hot dog under her seat without taking a single bite, using the napkins Jordan had handed her to wipe the ketchup off her hands. “There was a bug.”
“Oh,” Jordan said, frowning. “Want me to go get you another hot dog?”
She hook her head. “No, no, it’s okay.”
Gemma forced a breath, tucking the messy napkins under her seat with the hot dog and sitting back up with a new resolve. She glanced at me with a tight smile before leaning into Jordan. “Guys, Jordan here is a doctor.”
The way she stared at me, I saw it — what Belle said would be there.
She was playing the game.
We’d triggered her, and I was about to find out if that was a good or bad thing.
Belle raised her brows. “Oh, is he now?” She turned her attention to Jordan. “What kind of doctor?”
/>
“Ah, I’m just a pediatrician,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a blush. “I love kids.”
“That’s so sweet,” Belle said. “Good pick, Gemma.”
Gemma seemed validated by Belle’s comment, and her smile loosened, taking on a more smug appearance. “Right? And, he has a dog.”
Jordan whipped out his phone, showing us all a picture of a golden retriever. I had to give it to him, he had the whole perfect date thing down. He was easy to look at, educated, had a great job, and a love for animals. If I was a chick, I’d swoon, too.
But I couldn’t help but notice that while Gemma’s hand was holding his, her eyes were still on me.
Jordan kept swiping through photos, telling us all about his dog while Belle laughed and Gemma held her chin high like Jordan was her prized pony instead of her date. Once Jordan tucked his phone away again, Belle squeezed Gemma’s knee.
“Yep, you picked a winner, Gem.”
Jordan smiled, tucking Gemma under one arm. “We both did.”
Gemma smiled up at him just as a breeze blew through, blowing a few strands of her hair over her face. Jordan swept them away, tucking them behind her ear, and my throat tightened.
I didn’t know how long I could wait to find out if this hair-brained scheme would work if I had to watch him touch her like that all night.
But Belle must have sensed it, my inner freakout, because she played our next move like a genius.
“Brrr,” she said, shivering and crossing her arms over her chest. “I will say, we could have picked a warmer day to come.”
Gemma smiled. “I don’t know, I like the cold. Fall is my favorite season.”
Mine, too.
It took everything in me not to say those words out loud, not to drag Gemma out of her seat and into my lap and ask her to tell me everything she loved about the season.
Instead, I glanced at Belle, who was glaring at me with wide eyes like I missed a cue.
I cocked a brow, and she pursed her lips, glancing down at my hoodie.
Oh.
Clearing my throat, I stood, stripping my hoodie off and handing it down to Belle. “Here,” I said. “Take my hoodie.”
The Wrong Game: A Sports Romance Page 15
