Hate the Game

by Holly Hall

  I hoped it wasn’t out of line to ask her to have lunch with me, but I wanted more. More of Ava, more insight into the beautifully chaotic inner workings of her brain.

  She had that shirt-dress on when we met up outside the building. There were hints of the sun in the pink of her cheeks and what I could see of her chest. I closed out of the rideshare app and put my phone away.

  “Can I keep you a little longer so we can go to lunch?”

  She wet her lips with her tongue and shrugged. “I think I could eat that entire paddle-board right about now.”

  I smiled. That’s what I’d been hoping. “Let’s go.” I draped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her across the parking lot to a nearby waterfront café.

  I’d earned a couple more hours of sunshine and Ava, and I wasn’t going to waste them.

  Chapter 14

  Ava

  “You got some sun today,” Theo commented, outside my door.

  My stomach was full, the sun had drained me, and I was due for a nap, but I was still riding the high that came with basking in his eternal optimism. The Theo I’d seen from afar was hardly recognizable next to the one I knew personally, and thinking about it made me remember how ridiculous our first encounter was. I laughed to myself, until Theo shifted the neck of my coverup aside and ran a finger across my collarbone. Then all traces of humor were gone.

  His touch was gentle, but it left a trail of crackling electricity in its wake, reminding me of the careful way he’d rubbed sunscreen into my skin.

  “I’ll put some aloe on it. I thought I put on enough SPF to protect a horse.”

  “I didn’t know you had freckles.”

  “Compliments of my mother and her Irish skin. Not all of us are blessed with a golden hue.”

  His eyes filled with mirth. “Is that me? Do I have the golden hue?”

  “Yes. You know, for someone who has it all together, you really have such little self-awareness.”

  “Has it all together,” he scoffed. His eyes had that drunk or dazed look that came on after a long day. The way he was looking at me, touching me, made me wonder if he was high on endorphins or something. “I wish I didn’t have work to do, but I promised someone a nutrition session this evening.”

  “Oh, yeah. Real life. Ugh.” I feigned a groan and rolled my eyes. I should’ve used that time to work on my write-up for the paddle-boarding session, but I doubted I could spare the brain cells. They were all hopelessly preoccupied. “I took up enough of your time today.”

  “Can we do this again next weekend?”

  “I hope so.”

  Theo tilted his head my way. “You have to check your calendar.”

  “Yes, I’ll get back to you. Thank you for today. It was. . .”

  “Magical. Life-changing. Mind-altering.”

  “All of the above.”

  He glanced at my lips, and thanks to some wild hair I’d acquired over the course of the day, I raised to my tiptoes to align my mouth with his. This time, he took my face in both hands and kissed me long and well enough to make my knees weaken, before ending it with an audible smooch.

  “I’ll text you later,” he said.

  I nodded and unlocked my door, then caught his eye again before closing it behind me. And for the first time in a long time, I was drunk in lust.

  And so officially screwed.

  The knock at my door came as a surprise, just three quick raps that told me nothing about who the visitor might be. I shrugged on a cardigan over my sleep shirt before answering.

  “Hey, you,” Theo said from my doorway. His arms were crossed, and he was leaning in a way that brought his face closer to mine.

  “Hi.” I pulled my cardigan tighter over the thin fabric of my t-shirt, suspecting he could see right through it. “I didn’t expect to see you again today.”

  “I got done with my client and knew you were right across the hallway.” He unfolded his arms and I now noticed he was holding a wrapped plate. “Hopefully that wasn’t a rookie mistake, coming over.”

  “A mistake?”

  “Isn’t there a three-day rule or something? You’re the expert.”

  “I think that’s only if you’re dating. Or planning to.” My chest was growing warm. “And that’s probably a made-up rule, anyway.” He looked back at me, not confirming the dating comment but not denying it either. I swallowed and peered at the plate. “Is that food?” He nodded, and I stepped aside to invite him in.

  “I think I’m probably encouraging an unfair relationship. You’ll only keep me around for my cooking.”

  “Yep. Totally.” As if he didn’t make excellent company or provide something nice to look at when he was around.

  I noticed he was barefoot, in his usual uniform of athleisure-wear, and something about seeing him so unassuming, so at home, in my space sent a zing through my stomach.

  He held out the plate. “Want me to heat this up now? It’s salmon and quinoa.”

  “I ate not too long ago, but I’ll put it in the fridge.” I stashed the plate in the refrigerator, biting back a smile. He’d had a cooking session with a client, yet he’d been thinking of me.

  We migrated to the couch, and I hastily cleared away the empty bag of Smart-Pop (dinner) and other work-related detritus. I was used to having more time to ready my place for guests, and I was sure Theo sat in popcorn kernels when he dropped onto my couch, but I didn’t say anything. Go with the flow.

  He winced and shifted, pulling my e-reader from the couch cushions behind him. “Oooh, what are you reading these days? Something spicy?”

  “Historical. Starvation, disease, and conflict. That sorta thing.” I settled onto the opposite side of the couch.

  “What about heaving bosoms?”

  “That too.”

  “So, tell me this—if you’re so well-versed on the romance thing, why aren’t you out there giving it a shot?”

  “Well . . . I don’t know.” I tucked my legs beneath me. I did know, but I hadn’t expected him to poke into my dating life, or lack thereof, so soon. I guess if we were friends, it made sense.

  We could be friends, right?

  “Knowing what I know about my clients, watching them use our methods and still get their hearts pulverized. . .” I wrapped a strand of hair around my finger and focused on my split ends. “It’s just not the right time.”

  “What kinds of methods are those?”

  “You really want to know?”

  Theo nestled back into my throw pillows, getting comfortable, and nodded.

  “Honestly? We identify the attributes in our client that best fit their desired prospect’s qualifications. Prospect—that’s the target our clients have in mind when they come to us. The qualifications are the non-negotiable qualities everyone uses to filter through the dating pool.”

  “Like your ‘husband list.’”

  I visibly cringed. “That wasn’t supposed to be serious.”

  “So you’re teaching these people how to best market themselves to snag the guy?” His tone took on an edge of skepticism. It was the usual reaction I got when I explained my job. It was why I normally didn’t bother.

  “Or girl. We work with anyone and everyone,” I said. “Sometimes we do a client-focused consultation, where we assess the client and then identify the type of prospect that’s best suited for them. It’s less romantic than you think.”

  “I’m realizing that.” A laugh rumbled in his chest, and the edge was gone. “I can understand how romance would lose its appeal. But what about the old-fashioned way? Forget about qualifications and attributes and all that bullshit and get up close and personal with chemistry and attraction.”

  I shuddered. “And leave so many things to chance? Yikes.”

  “So your calculations will spit you out a man and you’ll never be surprised?”

  “I told you I hate surprises.”

  “You like my surprises.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  “So I’ve been told. Ch
eers to being the luckiest guy in Chicago.”

  My cheeks warmed. “What about you?”

  He scratched his jaw with a thumb. “What about me?”

  “After that interrogation, there’s no way you’re getting off easy.”

  “Getting off.” He smirked.

  “You’re a child.”

  “I’m a man.”

  I took one of the throw pillows from behind me and smacked him with it. Or tried to, but he fended it off. “Come on, what’s the story? You work in a cesspool of toned abs and pheromones. I know there’s a woman who loves to sweat and lift ungodly amounts of weight just as much as you do.”

  He laughed. “You are something else.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “That might be true, but I would say the essence is more body odor, less pheromone.” He shrugged. “I guess I haven’t had time to think about dating recently.”

  “Are you kidding? You wouldn’t even have to leave work. You essentially have a conveyor belt of women, coming in and out of your gym for workouts. And afterward, you’re showing them how to cook. You’re telling me there’s been no heated glances? No meeting of eyes over the treadmills, no brushing of hands while you’re making boring grilled chicken, side by side?”

  “Is that how you perceive my job?” Humor entered his gaze, twitched his lips. “I’ll have you know, I’m very professional.”

  I held up both palms. “Hey, I’m not making accusations. All I’m saying is, it could happen. I’m picturing all this in my head like a bad RomCom.”

  “No chance. I wouldn’t even entertain the idea.”

  “That’s it, who hurt you? Who made you this wary of heated glances and brushing body parts?”

  The mirth eased from his eyes first, and then his mouth settled into a line. It wasn’t quite a frown; he wasn’t that transparent. But I could feel the gloom that’d slipped over him. Was it something I’d said?

  Recovering, he dragged a hand over his mouth. “My last relationship didn’t end well.”

  “Oh. I mean, I can relate to that. Have I told you about Liam?” I let out a nervous chuckle, but it fell flat. I cleared my throat. “Bad girlfriend?”

  “Fiancée,” he corrected, and my eyes widened reflexively.

  “Wow. I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

  “You wouldn’t, because I don’t talk about it. I’d rather leave those days behind me than dwell.”

  His serious side made me shrivel a little. It was a reminder that I didn’t know him as well as I liked to think I did, and nobody’s story was as simple as you assumed it to be.

  “Okay. Noted. I’ll write that in my planner under ‘Things We Don’t Talk About.’” I mimed scribbling with a pencil. “Maybe then I’ll remember it.”

  He made a clucking sound with his tongue. “You have a right to be curious. That’s what happens when you start seeing someone. I’m still learning not to be so closed off.”

  I laid my hand on my chest, where my heart was pounding out a staccato rhythm. “Wait a minute, seeing someone? Did I consent to that?”

  “I mean,” he corrected, pressing his lips together. “Talking. Spending time together. Whatever. I didn’t mean to assume—”

  Now he was the one backpedaling, shoving his foot in his mouth, and I took a chance. I wasn’t positive it was the right move; I wasn’t positive I was ready. But I wanted to be. “Are we seeing each other, Theo?” I asked.

  His sigh seemed to originate from the deepest parts of him. “Whatever this is, whatever’s going on between us. . . All I know is, when I’m not around you, I want to be.”

  My chest tightened. It was as simple as that, wasn’t it? A yearning for someone. How even when they were only ten feet away, across the hall, you missed their presence. I had to stop myself from overthinking what his admission meant so I wouldn’t ruin the sweet moment.

  “Does that mean I have to tell you about my past relationships?” I raised a brow, deflecting sincerity with humor. “Because I don’t wanna dwell.”

  Theo’s signature smirk was fast and automatic. “Oh, you’re making fun of me now?” He grabbed a pillow from his half of the couch, so I armed myself too. When I swung, albeit clumsily, he dipped to the side and grabbed my wrist at lightning speed. Before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled me toward him, and with no time to prepare I crashed against his solid chest.

  We’d never been so close. Hearts beating in tandem, ribs rising against each other with every breath. There was still a trace of laughter in his eyes that was surely matched in mine, but I was too busy studying the outline of his lips. Which were right there.

  Fingers threaded through my hair, while his other hand eased beneath my arm to shift me upward, within reach of those magic lips. I was suddenly conscious of all the places on me that slid against him. Then his lips were on mine, and this time, they were full of intention. Full of fire. Fire that spurred me to reciprocate his rhythm.

  What was happening? My body worked on autopilot, responding to the innate give and take of what we were doing, but my thoughts were abuzz.

  Theo, on my couch. Theo, underneath me.

  Then he was pushing my sweater down my arms and I remembered my sleep shirt and my unrestrained breasts beneath it. No way was he prepared for those puppies so soon, no way!

  But the panic eased when he simply ran those hands up the bare skin of my back and held me to him. His palms spanned the entire width of my shoulders, effectively trapping me against him. And still I wanted more, to be impossibly closer.

  I shifted my legs so my knees were on either side of him, and I wasn’t sure if that was a mistake or the best thing I could’ve done. The sensation—him everywhere—was almost too much to process. His lips were on my neck, beneath my ear, then tracing my throat to my clavicle. The droopy collar of my t-shirt didn’t stand a chance against him.

  I braced my hands on his torso, taking in the bunching and stretching of the muscles there, the movement of his abdomen. Theo straightened to sitting, supporting me so I wouldn’t go toppling backwards, and fisted the back of his shirt before dragging it over his head. Leaving his torso bare beneath my hands.

  “You gym guys are always finding excuses to take off your shirts.”

  “You seemed to want me to. I was taking one for the team.”

  Hard truths laced with humor, as per usual, but I couldn’t laugh. The soft light from the lamp in the corner was forgiving to most people but practically worshipped him. It played along the contours of his skin and made him look caramelized.

  My knees tightened reflexively against his hips, and he slid his hands beneath the waistband of my shorts, palming my butt, bringing us ever closer. The butt that was more bowl-of-pudding than buns-of-steel. Then he groaned in . . . appreciation? I stilled and opened my eyes, checking for clues as to what he was thinking. His gaze was shrouded, dreamy, and a lazy smile formed on his lips.

  “You nearly killed me with this today,” he said, giving my butt another squeeze. “I’m an ass man.”

  “Ahh, lucky for me I have that in spades.”

  “Lucky for me.”

  His hips flexed upward when he brought his mouth to mine again, and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head at the angle of us—him still sitting upright, me astride him. This night could easily continue along this path and I wouldn’t feel a shred of guilt. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched me like this. And I liked him. A lot. And maybe that was the biggest problem.

  Because I didn’t know if I trusted him. I wanted to. He seemed genuine, up front, honest. But liars never looked like liars, and they were usually experts at what they did. Feeding fibs, convincing you things you’d seen with your own eyes weren’t as they seemed.

  “What’s wrong?” A crease had formed between Theo’s brows. I could see that from the distance I’d retreated.

  “Nothing, I just. . . This is fast.”

  “Oh.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shifted backward,
pulling his legs out from underneath me while I relocated to a separate couch cushion. I’d disappointed him by stopping, and my reflex was to feel guilty. “Did I misread this?”

  “No!” The answer came out a little forceful. “I wanted. . . I don’t know. It was nice. Obviously. Or I wouldn’t have reciprocated.” I put my head in my hands and gripped my hair, dragging in a breath.

  “I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

  “What?” I looked up to see him pressing steepled fingers to his forehead. He looked . . . guilty? It didn’t make sense.

  “Me coming over here so late, bringing you dinner. It wasn’t for,” he gestured with a finger between us, “that. I just wanted to see you and I didn’t even think of what time it was.”

  “Oh, no. That didn’t even enter my mind”—lie—“I just know how this would’ve progressed, and I don’t think I’m ready for that.” Now that last part, that was the truth.

  I’d been trying to prove something to myself: that I could be the girl who didn’t overanalyze everything. Or was I trying to prove it to him?

  All I knew was, I couldn’t do it at the sake of my heart. And going where this night was leading—it might as well have been me tossing my heart on the table and asking him not to have it for dinner.

  “If I’m being honest, at the risk of me sounding like a middle-schooler, I was really enjoying just making out with you.” He snorted, and it was so damn endearing that it blurred my worries.

  “I was really enjoying that too.”

  “Well, obviously. You made me take off my shirt, felt me up like a piece of meat,” he said with a smirk.

  “I did, and I’m sorry. Objectification of men is a very real problem.”

  “Try to keep your hands off the goods this time, will you?” Then he kissed me with his smile. And it was so innocent, us sitting side by side on the couch, nothing touching but our lips, that it made me melt like a crayon in a hot car all over again.