Game On

by Collette West

  My phone goes off, indicating that I have a new text, bringing me back to the here and now. Hastily, I glance in the rearview mirror to wipe my eyes before I reluctantly grab ahold of it.

  MOM: I think you're gonna wanna get back here ASAP! An order for two subs just came in for Rick's Garage, and I'm pretty sure it was Jilly on the phone. I think I might've bought you enough time so you can be here when he comes in to pick them up.

  Thanks, Mom, but too little, too late.

  I thumb back a quick reply.

  ME: Don't think I can make it back. Sorry. Still doing deliveries on the other side of town.

  I sniffle through my tears when I read her response.

  MOM: Oh, Hailey.

  I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, knowing it can't be helped. There's no way I can see him now. Not after what just happened.

  My mom is as naïve as I am, thinking that Jilly's ordering lunch for himself and Rick and not the famous blonde who couldn't stop pawing at his chest.

  Now I know how Jilly must've felt when he saw me kissing Kurt, and it makes me wish I could take it all back…but I can't.

  There's only one option left.

  I reach across the seat for my new laptop and boot it up, swerving recklessly back into traffic. One good thing came out of being pegged as R.D. Bukater—the huge spike in sales. Because of that, I was able to buy another computer at the drop of a hat, without having to worry about how I was going to pay for it. However, my new windfall of profits has been both a blessing and a curse. Yeah, it's enabled me to keep writing, but for how long? Drake Schultz and Terry Bloom are in cahoots to shut me down. That's why I need to do this before either of them can stop me.

  I turn the wheel and pull into a McDonald's parking lot, ready to make use of their free Wi-Fi. I log into my Kindle account and, without hesitation, hit the 'save and publish' button for the file I already uploaded this morning. With one click, I put it out there.

  My novel about Jilly.

  I finished it late last night when I couldn't sleep, and I'm done going through it with a fine-tooth comb, making sure everything's just right. I can't leave things hanging the way they are. I need some type of resolution after what I just witnessed.

  Because, as it turns out, I really don't have a clue about what goes on behind the scenes with the New York Kings.

  I just thought that I did.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jilly

  I'm desperate to see Hailey, so I'm 'borrowing' one of Rick's customer's cars that was scheduled for an oil change.

  If she won't come to me, then I'll go to her. I took a chance when I called Halpert's Pizza and Subs. When her mom answered instead of her, I disguised my voice as best I could, trying not to groan in frustration when she told me it'd be a forty-five minute wait since they were backlogged in the middle of their lunchtime rush hour.

  But at least it gave me enough time to run upstairs and shower. Of course, whenever I end up hurrying, my brace doesn't want to cooperate. I had a heck of a time getting it on and off then wrapping and unwrapping the plastic covering for my bandage so I wouldn't get it wet. I even managed to shave, although I nicked myself in more than a few places. I might seem like a bloody, bandaged mess, but at least it's an improvement from how I looked when I got up this morning. Rick would be proud.

  I hit the gas pedal, increasing my speed. This is crazy, going to Hailey like this, but I don't want to put it off any longer. I need to see her. My hunger for her is beyond the point of being rational. It needs to be satisfied.

  I grip the wheel with my knees and reach for my phone to look at the picture Julio took of us outside his limo. How happy we were that night finally being able to reconnect with each other. How the future seemed to open up with endless possibilities. I want to rekindle that feeling more than anything. I don't want to think this has all been for nothing. We've come too far to walk away now.

  A grin stretches across my face as I tear into the parking lot that I've spent so many nights sitting in, watching her through the glass. It feels so good to finally get out and jog toward the door. I'm not going to stare at her from afar any longer. I intend to sweep her off her feet.

  But the smile falls from my lips when I see that Hailey's not here, just her mom.

  "Bruce!" Mrs. Halpert exclaims over my sudden entrance.

  I take a step back after nearly hurling myself at the poor woman and try to get my wits about me.

  "Good to see you, Mrs. Halpert." I hear my voice somehow slip into a conversational tone even though I'm extremely bummed that she's the one welcoming me with open arms and not her daughter.

  When I retreat a little, Mrs. Halpert beckons me forward welcomingly. "How's your arm?" She affixes her eyes on my brace and steps forward from behind the counter to examine it.

  I can't help but smile as she checks it out. It feels good to be mothered by someone, and Hailey's mom has always had a soft spot for me.

  "Okay, I guess." I give her a crooked smile.

  "I'm afraid Hailey isn't here," she states without my having to ask.

  "Yeah, umm—" I fumble.

  "That girl," Mrs. Halpert sighs, shaking her head. "She'd run from her own shadow if she could."

  "She knew I was coming?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  "Come here and sit down." Mrs. Halpert walks over to a bench alongside the wall and pats the spot next to her.

  I crinkle my brow, not really up for another heart-to-heart today, but I obediently swing one leg over the side and lower myself down beside her.

  "I didn't know what she was up to, writing those books, because if I did, I would've stopped her," Mrs. Halpert says calmly. "She just gets so caught up inside that head of hers sometimes that it frightens me. It's not good for her. It's not good for either of you."

  I nod…because what else can I do?

  "I realize that, growing up without a mother, and now that your father has passed away, life must seem pretty lonely to you at times," she muses, her eyes full of compassion. "I don't blame you for not wanting to come back home that often. There must be a lot of painful memories for you here. But I don't want you to think that you don't have family left because, Bruce, no matter what's going on between you and my daughter, you'll always be family to us. You don't need to stay away and make yourself such a stranger."

  I feel a lump rising in my throat and look away.

  "Hailey hasn't been the same since you left, you know. She's been pining awfully hard for you these past four years. I think she knew she made a mistake with Kurt but was too proud to admit it. So she did what she thought was best and turned to her writing to make it right, never realizing that she was only making everything worse instead of better. Her intentions were good, even if the outcome wasn't." Mrs. Halpert grimaces, not afraid to give an honest assessment of her daughter's actions.

  "It sure did cause a lot of problems," I admit, feeling comfortable enough to be candid with her. "Things were going so well until—"

  "That's Hailey for you," Mrs. Halpert chuckles. "She's always been such a contrary child. She means well, but she has a knack for tripping herself up, getting in her own way. You were always good at helping her see that, Bruce. I think she's gotten more off track since you left, and I'm afraid that I've been too busy to see it until now. Maybe because I didn't want to acknowledge just how much she missed you."

  I shift on the bench uncomfortably.

  "But you're here now, and that's a good thing." She gives my knee a quick tap of encouragement. "She's got her spark back since going to New York, and it's all because of you. Even when she came home, there was no denying what good it did her to see you again. She has hope again."

  "So do I." I find Mrs. Halpert's eyes again and hold her gaze to let her know how serious I am about making this work with Hailey.

  "You forgive her, then?" She quirks up the side of her mouth. "She's bound to do something like this in the future. It's in her nature. Are you sure you're ready for tha
t? Are you willing to take her on for the long haul?"

  "She makes life interesting. Keeps me on my toes," I respond with a chuckle.

  "You're an understanding young man, Bruce. I've always admired that about you. My Hailey's not the easiest person in the world to get on with, but somehow, that's what you like about her, isn't it?" She smiles at me in the way that only a mother can.

  "Life with her is messy and complicated, but I wouldn't have it any other way." I run my hand over the top of my head, contemplating just how much Hailey means to me. "I've known what life is like without her, and it's like going through every day in black and white instead of color. She sure knows how to turn up the volume."

  "I couldn't have said it better myself." Mrs. Halpert playfully lifts her eyebrows at me, nodding in agreement.

  "And I'm not one who's good at expressing my feelings," I state with a laugh.

  "I think you're better at it than most." She hustles back to the counter when the phone starts to ring. "Why don't you stick around until she gets back? She can't hide from you forever."

  "Nah, I think I'm gonna head out. Maybe I'll try again later." I give Mrs. Halpert a wave, grabbing the takeout bag marked 'Rick's' and leaving a fifty on the counter. She's busy and I don't want to take up any more of her time.

  She shakes her head at me with a smile before grabbing the receiver and saying cheerfully, "Halpert's Pizza and Subs. How can I help you?"

  I smile back at her as she starts jotting down the order. The Halperts bust their butts in this tiny, little hole in the wall, and Hailey basically sacrificed her teenage years in order to keep it going. I want that to change so much. If only she'll meet me halfway.

  I won't give up on her. Mrs. Halpert's right. She can't run from me forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hailey

  I don't want to do this delivery, but I have to.

  I climb the flagstone steps, ducking my head under the huge American flag that Beth Altell's parents have hanging on their front porch. I haven't been back here since the night of her notorious co-ed sleepover. I try not to look at the bay window, but I can't help but notice that their couch is still positioned up against it. The couch where Jilly held me and…

  "Is that you, Hailey Halpert?"

  I withdraw inwardly as Beth herself appears at the door, already scrutinizing me. I shuffle the multiple pizza carriers in my arms, wishing I could throw them in her face and run.

  "Yeah, it's me," I mutter, kneeling down to unload one of the eight boxes I'm holding.

  "I'm not surprised," Beth taunts me, but I keep my eyes trained on what I'm doing. "After reading your books, I can see why you're back delivering pizza again."

  She wants me to fight back, but I'm not going to.

  "Yeah, the sex scenes were pretty hilarious." She drives the knife in deeper.

  When I glare up at her, she looks like she's trying not to laugh.

  "I got some of the girls together the other night for margaritas, and we had so much fun going through your books and picking out the most ridiculous parts." She presses her fingers to her lips. "You have a gift for making people laugh, Hailey. You should seriously consider a career in stand-up if this whole writing thing doesn't work out."

  "So you're back living at home?" I gaze at her defiantly.

  "Yeah, but not for long," Beth says haughtily. "I start teaching in the fall, and I can't wait. It's so nice knowing I have a respectable job to go to, and I'm not wasting my college education like some people—"

  I cut her off, unzipping the last of her order. "It'll be $97.85."

  "Wow. That's a little exorbitant. Don't you think?" She rolls her eyes before stepping back inside.

  Her heels click across the foyer, and I watch her preen in front of a gold-framed mirror, taking a moment to primp herself before returning with a crisp hundred-dollar bill.

  "Keep the change," she smirks. "Oh, and could you carry these into the kitchen for me? I guess I should have told you that before you went and unpacked them all. Oops. Sorry."

  I grit my teeth and carefully stack box upon greasy box on top of each other, hoping that the bottom one doesn't fall through and turn me into a cheesy, gooey mess.

  But my current distress can't stop the memories of my last visit here from flying through my head—everyone sitting around watching TV, Jilly asking me to lie down, my head in Jilly's lap.

  "I'm having a bunch of people over for a pool party later," Beth says breezily, leading me toward the back of the house. "It's gonna be a blast. I even heard Jilly Gillette might stop by."

  My heart drops and she watches it happen, catching the shift in my expression before I can hide it.

  "It's too bad you can't make it," Beth simpers, acting like she had any intention of inviting me. "You work too much, Hailey."

  My eyes alight on the kitchen counter, and I waste no time in depositing my load, straining beneath the weight. I step back and wipe my hands on my already greasy jeans.

  Beth laces her arm through mine as if to walk me out, but instead, she brings me to a halt at the entrance to the living room. "Do you remember how you threw yourself all over Jilly that night you were here?" She laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. "The poor guy. He didn't know what to do. Uncomfortable doesn't even begin to describe it. You should've seen the look on his face."

  I make a move to bolt, but she cuts in front of me, blocking my way out.

  "That same kind of desperation really shows in your writing, Hailey. So let me give you some advice. Guys will let you know when they're interested. You don't have to try so hard to get their attention."

  "Why do you have to be so mean?" I blurt out. "We were friends all the way through junior high. You used to love hanging out with me, stuffing your face with whatever my mom was cooking. Or don't you remember that? Because I sure do. I think pleasantly plump is the polite way of putting it."

  "Get out!" Beth snarls, a cold glint hardening in her eyes.

  "Gladly." I push past her, wishing I'd never come in here.

  "You're such a freak, Halpert. You always were and you always will be!" she yells at my back.

  But I don't turn around. Instead, I close the intricately carved door in her face.

  Yeah, that went well.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying, and bend over to pick up the empty carriers off the porch. I keep my eyes lowered, unable to look at the couch again through the living room window.

  Because it hurts too damn much.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hailey

  I watch my phone light up once, twice, three times.

  I turn over on my side and shove my head under the pillow. I'm not going to look. I refuse.

  My phone chimes a fourth and a fifth time. I grab it, typing in my four-digit password and hitting the contact button next to his name.

  He picks up after just one ring. "Hailey?"

  "If you wanna talk, then get the fuck over here and do it in person."

  I punch 'end call' and swing my legs off the side of the bed, jogging up the staircase made of two-by-fours and forgoing any shoes or socks, not caring if I get a splinter in my foot. I yank open the basement door and stop to listen for a minute. My parents are upstairs, but they've probably been asleep for hours. They usually get up at five, so they sleep like the dead. One time, the flower shop down the street was on fire and they slept right through it. So I don't anticipate them waking anytime soon, even if I let him have it.

  I tiptoe across the floor in my bare feet and twist the lock on the glass door with the red-and-orange logo for Halpert's Pizza and Subs on it. I stare out at the stillness of the night, gazing past the lone car parked in the far corner of the lot, wondering if he'll come, the blood thrumming through my veins.

  But I don't intend to stick around and find out. Instead, I march back down to the basement and belly-flop onto my makeshift bed. He hasn't been down here in ages—not since he used to bring me m
y homework assignments and tease me about Leonardo DiCaprio's scrawny ass. Back then, the couch was always a couch—never a bed.

  I shiver against the dampness down here, realizing that my shirt has slid up and over my butt. When I go to pull it down, I realize that I'm wearing his shirt—definitely not the message I want to send. I lift my head off the mattress and gaze around for something, anything, to put on instead.

  But that's when I hear the slight tinkle of the bell above the front door and know that he's here. Jeez, how did he get here so fast?

  My heartbeat increases when I hear a hesitant footfall hit the first step. I dash under the covers, thinking that maybe, if I pretend to be asleep, he might just go away, but the click of the lock tells me that he intends on staying. His tread echoes down the steps, and I count the twenty-four thuds until his feet hit the bottom.

  I expect him to whisper my name or say something, but he doesn't. He just stares at my huddled form under the blankets. I squeeze my eyes shut when his shadow passes in front of the nightlight. He's out of breath, like he ran the whole way here. He knows there's no way I can be asleep, not after having summoned him in the middle of the night by screaming in his ear.

  I'm getting fidgety as he hovers nearby, but he doesn't make a move to touch me. He's just standing there, thinking God knows what. I try to even out my breathing, but it's so damn hard knowing that he's watching me. I blink subconsciously when he shuffles toward the side of the bed, even with my face. His breath tickles my cheek, yet I somehow manage to keep my eyes closed.

  He grunts as he kneels down, his hip accidentally bumping against the edge of the bed when he tries to position himself on the floor. I should put him out his misery, but I'm curious to see what he's going to do. And then I feel his fingertip ever-so-gently begin to trace the contours of my face.

  I gasp, but he doesn't stop. He just keeps going, doing the same thing I did to him in New York, guiding his thumb over each eyebrow and caressing the lids of my eyes before dropping lower to my mouth.

  Now I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of this. I squirm, fighting the urge to wrap my lips around his finger. I moan when he reaches back up and starts again at my eyebrows, retracing the same pattern. I shift onto my back, and he props his good elbow on the side of the bed, his weight causing me to tip toward him, the curve of my breast brushing against his forearm.