The Gamble: A Novel

by Xavier Neal

  There's a brief jingling of keys seconds before the front door flies open. “Fuck you, Luca. Won't go to the grocery store and won't help me bring the shit up? Fucking useless.”

  He covers himself with the blanket that had fallen to the floor at the same time I hop up.

  “Didn't know you were here,” Warren hums, hitting the kitchen lights and dropping the grocery bags on the counter.

  “Just leaving,” I casually announce.

  “You are?” They question in unison.

  Between the disappointment in Luca's voice and confusion in Warren's I know it's definitely the best idea right now. I need...some air. Or some wine. Or an entire package of Oreos. Something. Anything to help me cope with the huge mistake we just made on the couch. What? Of course it was a mistake! We're best friends not bed buddies.

  “Yeah, gotta send a couple emails for work,” I lie as I grab my wallet and car keys off the bar. “We'll hang out soon, babe.”

  He gives me a shrug and kiss on the cheek. “Miss you.”

  “Miss you too.”

  Luca grumbles something and states, “I'll text you later.”

  Rather than turning around to reply, I simply give him a wave and continue my way out of their apartment.

  This is bad. This is so very bad. How is it the more I hope we pedal backwards the more we rush forward? Is all this as wrong as I think it is? And if it is then why does being with Luca feel so goddamn natural, like this is how we were always meant to be. Oh my gosh....did I really just say that? Yup. I definitely need a drink.

  Luca

  I've done my fair share of avoiding women. I've had to switch gyms and gym times. Favorite bars and restaurants. But that was years ago when I was too stupid to realize fucking women from your favorite places can ruin them. Now when I'm done, I make it very fucking clear, verbally or via text, things are over. That their rotation in my schedule is done. While it isn't always a smooth transition it's an honest one. Problem with hooking up with someone you have to spend the entire day with in a classroom is there's nowhere to hide. The only thing worse is being on the receiving end. Which I am. Alexxa didn't text me back last night. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Convince myself she fell asleep. But then she didn't text me on my way in to bring her breakfast. It's Monday. I always grab us breakfast on Mondays during the summer. Even now with the day in the final quarter, she hasn't said more than absolutely necessary to me. Apparently, I fucked this up. I'm just not quite sure how. I wasn't the one who sprinted out of the apartment like it was on fire last night. That was her. Another first. Chicks don't leave me without being asked. In case you're wondering, I didn't fucking like it.

  “This magician sucks,” Marcus grouses in my ear.

  “He can't make you disappear so I guess you're right.”

  Marcus frowns and folds his arms.

  I slouch further down into my seat.

  Kid's right. This guy isn't very good, but I've got bigger problems to deal with other than being able to see the strings of his scarf trick.

  After a couple more tricks, we clap and make a swift exit out of the auditorium to allow the younger classrooms their chance at the planned summer event. While most of camp for the school age students is fun places and outings, every day can't be had outside of the school. During the down days are the planned art project and occasionally the planned visitors everyone in the school gets to enjoy to make up for the fact they're too young to have field trips.

  Once we're back in the classroom, the students break into different centers, some on the computer, some reading, while others make crafts and play board games. The after school classroom takes up a large corner portion of the entire building. It's built to comfortably accommodate forty students at any given point. The room is broken into different learning areas, including sections for cooking, science projects, a stage area for music and drama, along with a library area filled with books, tables for homework, and computers.

  What can I say? We hang out in luxury. Their parents are more than willing to pay for it according to the wait list for this program.

  As soon as everyone seems content, I make my way over and sit down on the bean bag in the reading area next to Alexxa who has Clare leaned against her.

  “Stranger,” I cheerfully greet

  “Hey.”

  Adjusting my shorts I sigh, “So you wanna tell me why you're avoiding me or should I start guessing?”

  Alexxa turns to me. “This is the quiet part of the room.”

  “I am being quiet.”

  “No, you're talking. This area is for reading.”

  Aha. Hide in the quiet zone, so she can continue to avoid me further. Unfortunately for her there's an easy solution to that. She can block one shot, but not all of 'em.

  I lean around her and say, “Hey, Clare. They want a fourth player for Trouble. You should go get in.”

  She looks up from her chapter book. “I love Trouble.”

  “And you're usually the best player at it. Winner gets a candy bar today.”

  Clare scrambles to get up as fast as she can. Within seconds she's flown across the room, book left in the dust beside Alexxa.

  She moves her head to face forward again. “That was low.”

  “'Cause you're fighting fair?”

  She quickly snips under her breath, “I'm not fighting with you.”

  “No. You're just not talking to me.”

  “I am talking to you,” Alexxa argues and rises to her feet.

  “Clearly,” I mumble and copy her stance. “Instead of running away like you have all day, how about you stand right there, and have an actual adult conversation with me.”

  Her eyes twitch a glare, but she keeps them planted on the classroom. “About what?”

  “You didn't text me this morning.”

  “I was running late.”

  “Or last night.”

  “Fell asleep.”

  “And you ran off like you stole something when Warren got home.”

  She did steal something from me. My goddamn fucking pride. What kind of self-respecting adult male blows his load from a fucking hand job? A fucking hand job?! There's a golden rule. There's pussy in the room you hold out for it. You're not offered any then you keep that shit locked up tight until she fucking leaves, then you mentally fuck the shit out of her. A blow job? Fuck yeah. That's like nuking a hot pocket because delivery would take too long. But a hand job? That's like having one pizza roll and calling it dinner. It's meant to tide you over until the better shit is ready. Most embarrassing fact isn't even that I came like some adolescent fresh out of juvie, it's that I begged in English and fucking Spanish for it. Spanish! I rarely speak it outside of conversations with ma', yet I couldn't remember how to speak my first language if you paid me yesterday. Then there was begging. The goddamn begging. In any other circumstance it's me who has women begging. I have it on fucking tape! I don't know what the hell it is about Alexxa, but every time we're together it feels like the first time I've ever been sexual. Part of me fears how quick I'll bust a nut when I finally get inside of her. Oh....I'm gonna get inside that sweet pussy. Don't start doubting me.

  “Now's not a good time to talk about this.”

  She attempts to walk away when I grab her. “Maybe not. But I know you. At the end of the work day you're gonna bail as fast as you did last night. So let's talk about it now.”

  Alexxa snatches her hand away from me. “No.”

  “Didn't we talk about my distaste for that word yesterday?”

  The sexual implication does as I hoped. Her eyes flood with excitement, but only briefly. She lowers her voice. “You have my word, Luca. We'll talk when all the kids are done.”

  Tossing my hands up in surrender, I back off and allow her to resume her retreat.

  We're gonna talk here and do a little more when we get home. Um...not home. My apartment. We don't...just...it's been a long fucking day, alright?

  I spend the remainder of the aftern
oon losing board games to Clare and destroying children at freeze tag on the after school playground.

  Doesn't matter the sport. I always play to win. Even against kids. Yeah. I know. But I like being competitive.

  With only about twenty minutes left, the last student leaves, and we're left alone to complete our closing duties.

  As soon the door shuts, I ask, “What the fuck is going on? Why are you avoiding me?”

  Alexxa sighs, “I'm not avoiding you. I just needed a little space.”

  “How is that different?” When she can't dispute it, I push, “Just tell me what I did wrong. Tell me what the fuck I did wrong, so I can figure out what play I need to pull to fix this.”

  “Our friendship's not a game, Luca.” She puts away a board game box and turns my direction. “And we can't keep doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “What happened yesterday,” Alexxa starts slowly. “Or the night before or the night before. We can't keep doing any of it.”

  I lean against the counter closest to the door. “Why not?”

  “Because we're friends, Luca. That's not what friends do.”

  “Naked friends could.”

  She doesn't even a crack a smile.

  No humor here. Foul point on me.

  “What's so wrong with what's starting to happen?”

  “Everything.”

  Her reply forces my eyebrow to scrunch in confusion. “You're being vague. I hate that shit. Don't try to spare my feelings like I'm on the third day of my fucking period. Just be fucking honest with me.”

  “You want me to be honest, Luca? Completely fucking honest?”

  “I always am with you.”

  This bet isn't lying. She's never asked. And she's known from the day we started hanging out I've always wanted to bone her. Over the years I simply got better about fighting the urge, keeping it hidden, and making my small advances look like drunken mistakes. Kept me from fouling out until now.

  “The only thing you want from me is sex.”

  My lips press together not admitting the truth in her statement.

  Don't agree with her. I'm not as sure as I used to be that's all I want.

  “That's all you ever want from anyone,” she continues, a hint of sadness in her tone. “That's all you've ever wanted from anyone. I'm not that chick. I don't wanna be someone's Monday, Wednesday, and I guess I'm free Friday. I don't wanna be one more dent on your bedroom wall.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “It's not like that with you though.”

  She tries to smile. “And I almost believe you. If I didn't know you as well as I do, I would totally buy into the bullshit you're selling me right now.”

  Offended, I snap, “It's not bullshit, Alexxa.”

  “It saddens me even more because I know when you say it, you really believe it. But it is what it is. You know exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it to make it feel real. I don't just want something that feels real. I want something that actually is. I don't wanna be in some weird sexual limbo with my best friend. I wanna be in a real relationship.”

  I don't date. But I really don't do fucking relationships. Never have. I know how they end. My father has a classic car collection and several noteworthy mentions framed in his office that can be admitted into evidence as proof relationships don't work. Sex works. Everyone loves sex. Everyone loves to get off. It's one game there is an endless amount of seasons and an even more endless amount of players. Friendship also works. Same story. Everyone loves a good teammate to hang out with. See a movie. Have a beer. Shoot the shit. A balanced combination of the two, if it existed is something I would try. But that wouldn't exactly be considered a relationship so much as a friends with benefits situation. Right?

  My voice takes a defeated tone. “But I really liked this past weekend with you. All of it. Not just the exchanged orgasms, Alexxa. The other shit too.”

  A yearning expression flashes across her face. “Me too...”

  “Then why can't we just do that? Hang out and get off.”

  The suggestion stiffens her body.

  Yeah. Yeah. Another fucking foul.

  “Because I refuse to become another permanent name in your skankadex.”

  “You could never be one of those women.”

  “As long as we don't repeat this weekend. You're absolutely right.” This time she doesn't leave room for an objection. “Strictly friends from now on. K?”

  I simply shrug.

  There's no fucking way I'm agreeing to that. Bet or no goddamn bet, we're not fucking going back to the way things were. I just...I don't know where they're going to go from here. Can't predict next season when I'm so unsure about this one.

  She pushes her lips together, grabs her wallet, and car keys. “I've got plans with Warren tonight.”

  I push down the unexpected rise of jealousy.

  And he better keep his fucking hands off her.

  “Doin' what?”

  “He wants to go see some photographer's gallery display. Stuart something. Then we're gonna grab dinner. He's been so busy between work and school he really needs the break. You can join us if you want.”

  “And have to listen to Warren ramble about lightening for two hours? Hard pass.”

  Alexxa tries to smile. “I stop listening after the first twenty minutes.”

  It's my turn to attempt a smirk.

  She saunters past me and softly declares, “Have a goodnight, Luca.”

  How is that fucking possible now?

  “You too....”

  My eyes follow her until she's completely out of sight. The unfamiliar emotions I've been trying to smother out lately return with boots on, kicking in my chest cavity with everything they've got, and using my lungs as dart boards.

  Apparently, I'm just supposed to accept this as the end of the game? Let it go and put my balls in a different court. Maybe I fucking should. Leave this fucking situation with a little bit of dignity left. Then again, I've never been a quitter, especially when I want something as bad as I want Alexxa Ward. Now that I think about it, I've never wanted anything as bad as I want her. No. This isn't game over. This is just one fucking flag on a play.

  My vibrating phone pulls me out of my thoughts. On a heavy sigh, I answer, “Hola ma'.”

  “Hola, mijo. You're off of work already?”

  I give my forehead a rub. “Yeah. Kids went home earlier than expected.”

  There's a long moment of silence before she questions, “Are you alright? You sound like something is wrong.”

  Yeah. I'm losing the only game I've been good at from the minute I stepped into it.

  “I'm good.”

  She hums the all knowing hum only a mother can. “Cena?”

  I give the forehead another rub hoping the pending headache bails. “Si. I'll head over now. Need me to bring anything? I know your doctor suggested a few changes in diet after this last set of tests came back a little less than ideal-”

  “I'm fine, mijo,” her snap shuts my mouth. “I've got everything under control. Remember, I'm the mother and you're the son, por favor.”

  She's the one who has an unwanted opponent lurking in her system. Thankfully, she's still cancer free but her cholesterol was a little higher than they would like. I'm not a health nut despite what my body looks like, but for her? I'll join her side of sacrifice if she needs me to. There are only two people in this world I'd do anything for her and the other just emotionally nut punched me.

  “Te veo pronto?”

  “Si,” I answer back and make my way to grab my stuff.

  She ends the call revealing a waiting text message.

  Pam: Late drink tonight? I miss hanging out with you.

  Makes one of us. That game has been long over and even if it wasn't, at this point, the only person I wanna compete in the Orgasm Superbowl with is Alexxa. Like I said, things aren't over. Get ready for the half- time show. It's gonna be interesting...

  Alexxa

&
nbsp; This has to be the longest week of my entire life, including longer than the week my mother saw her first live musical and decided to randomly break out into song like she was in one. After listening to her and my sisters sing about fucking cereal and toast during a Sunday breakfast, I swore nothing in life would ever suck worse. Until this week that was true. My mother's Wicked obsession had been the champ for about a decade. However like all good things I guess it had come to an end eventually. I just assumed something more catastrophic than fooling around with Luca would be what knocked it down a peg. Not really sure when I became the adult who behaves as if they're the bratty child who only wants the toy mommy put on the highest shelf because she put it there, but that sums up my emotional threshold lately. I was the one who called everything off with him. I was the one who insisted we go back to 'normal'. Logic screams it was the right thing to do despite how shitty it feels. He's not the right kind of guy for me. His bed has seen more action than a banned copy of the old Deep Throat VHS. Luca fucks and forgets when he grows bored. Forgive me for not wanting to fall into that physiological shit storm. I will admit, if the shit we did was any indication to what lied ahead, it would have been a beautiful, erotic, orgasm filled disaster. That may...or may not be regret in my voice.