A Different Game: A Wrong Game Novel

by Matthews, Charlie M.

  “I really want to know who she is.”

  “Fine,” she said, jumping up from the couch. “Just give me five minutes. I need to get out of these shorts.”

  “Huh?” I asked, but she'd already left the room. I could hear footsteps coming from above me. Two minutes later, she was back. She’d replaced her shorts with tight jeans but kept my hoodie on.

  I frowned.

  “You want to know who that girl is?”

  I could only nod in response.

  “Then come with me.”

  21

  The last person I expected to knock on my door was the very same person sitting beside me in the passenger seat of my car. I hadn’t heard from him since he’d dropped me home three days ago and honestly, I was kind of thankful I hadn’t. Frankie had been very forthcoming with information when I’d sheepishly asked her what had happened that night. In fact, I’d probably go as far as to say that she had taken great pleasure in my humiliation. I’d been almost too afraid to ask, even though I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep with the worry of what I might’ve said or done. As it happened, I had every reason to be mortified. I had refused to leave until Jake explained why he was so ashamed of me. It was a theory that plagued me endlessly and it would appear that even wasted, it still played on my mind. I really didn’t need to bring it up in front of his friends, though. I should have ignored him, left it well alone and allowed Frankie to take me home instead.

  After that night, I’d convinced myself that Jake would no longer want anything to do with me. I’d been licking my wounds on and off for days.

  So when a knock at the door interrupted my Trecco Shore marathon, the last person I had expected on the other side of it was Jake. I was more than grateful when he didn’t say a word about what had happened.

  When Jake asked me to show him the girl in the picture, I bet he hadn't counted on ending the night in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of town. When he stepped out of the car into the night, I knew he was confused. A part of me wanted to take him to the local park swings and pretend that that was where I was at my happiest. But that would have been a lie.

  I shut the driver's side door and fished in my back pocket for the rusty key. I reached out in front of me, trying to locate the padlock. I couldn't find it. “Jake?”

  “What's up?” he said from behind me. I hadn't even heard him approach.

  “Pull the torch up on your phone. I can't find the lock.” A few seconds later and the torch lit up. I clutched the padlock in my hands, jammed the key inside and unlocked it.

  “What is this place?” Jake asked as I pushed the door open and stepped inside, flicking the lights on.

  “This is where I spent my summers.”

  “In an abandoned warehouse?”

  “No, it was very much alive back then.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, frowning. “What was this place?” Jake walked around me and made his way over to the table, his hand running along the old Singer I’d found in the attic back home.

  “My mum had her first job here when she was my age. When she graduated and this place came up for sale, she bought it.”

  “It's a few steps down from Paris,” Jake said, quirking a brow.

  “She loved it all the same.”

  “What happened to it?” Jake asked, spinning in a circle. He was taking it all in.

  “Business was thriving; her name was published in every fashion magazine as far as Milan. It wasn't long after that she sold up, left this place behind and set up a studio in London. A few months later Shawn died, and Mum threw herself into work. She rarely came home, spending more and more time in London or Milan. Sometimes even as far as New York…”

  “And this place?”

  I shrugged. “It became just another unused warehouse.”

  “That's kinda sad.”

  I closed my eyes, breathed in and smiled. “I kept coming by, waiting to see what the new owners had done with the place. But no one ever came back. It was just left here, empty and lonely.” I glanced up and saw Jake frowning. “They hadn't even changed the locks.”

  “You kept it?” he asked, referring to the key I still had.

  I nodded. “I couldn't throw it away. It felt like if I did, I would be turning my back on my childhood, forgetting about the memories I had of this place.”

  “So you keep coming back here?”

  “As much as I can. Work takes up most of my time but I come by as often as work allows.”

  “You said you spent most of your summers here. Why here? You were a kid. Shouldn't you have been doing kid stuff? Like going to the park or swimming in the river.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. But then I never would have discovered the beauty of this place. Or the way it made me feel watching my mother do the one thing she loved to do most of all. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since the very first day I sat at this desk and watched her piece together that ugly arse dress I’m so intent on keeping.” I laughed nervously and continued to run my hand along the table in slow strokes. Jake’s eyes were on my every movement. “Now, every time I look at that dress, I tell myself that the next dress that will be hung next to that one will be mine.”

  “So all of this?” he said, gesturing to the machine and fabrics I’d collected through the years. “This is yours?”

  “Technically, the machine is my mother’s. But the fabrics, they're all mine,” I stated proudly.

  Jake's eyes moved towards the hanging rail. Then he walked over to it, stopped and examined each item of clothing without touching.

  I knew what he must have been thinking. They were tatty. He was probably right in thinking it. I still had a lot to learn when it came to designing, but I was hungry for it. I could do anything I wanted as long as I put my mind to it.

  I came up beside him, closed my eyes and said, “I know, they need a ton of work and the seams aren't as tidy as they could be, but practice makes perfect, right?”

  “You made these?” he asked in a surprised tone that seemed to catch me off guard.

  “I did.”

  Jake's eyes jerked to mine. “These are really good, Mel.”

  “You think so?” I bit my lip nervously, unsure what to do. I felt exposed. Naked. Like I was being judged.

  “I know so,” he finally said, his eyes dropping to my mouth.

  Don't do that, I pleaded.

  You can't do that.

  I quickly mouthed a thank you and moved the railing behind the curtain, out of sight. Running my hands flat across my thighs, I walked back to the table, staring into the distance.

  Bringing him here had been a bad idea. It was my place—my escape from everything that was capable of hurting me. Now he was there, and I wanted to scream at myself for being so stupid.

  I felt him come up behind me and I stiffened when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

  “You still come here. After all these years you still come here. That means that girl in the picture is still in here somewhere.”

  “You don't understand,” I told him, shaking him off.

  “Then make me,” he demanded, spinning me back around so we were almost touching. “Make me understand.”

  “It doesn't matter. None of this matters anymore. Soon enough, this place will no longer exist to me. So no, it doesn't matter.” I held back a sob and prayed the tears never came.

  “Look at me, Mel,” Jake whispered.

  I couldn't. I couldn't tell him that I would be leaving soon, because then I would have to admit the reasons why. And I couldn't do that. Not now. Not ever. That girl in the photo? She only existed here, in this abandoned warehouse in the middle of town. And when she left this place, she became Melanie again. The girl everyone hated.

  Jake reached a hand out and curled it under my chin, forcing my eyes on his. His searched mine, and mine searched his, afraid at what they might find. If he so much as gave me a small glimmer of hope, all of the plans I had made would blow up in my face. I couldn’t stay. I wouldn’t
have a life if I did. And if there was one person in this whole shitty world who was capable of making me stay, it was Jake.

  Jake's gaze softened as he continued to stare down at me, his eyes searching mine for something. What that was, I did not know. And I didn't have too long to think it over. He dipped his head, angled my chin a little higher and touched my lips with his own. His lips were soft against mine. Tender and warm as he brushed them back and forth as if he was waiting for me to accept him.

  “It's getting late,” I whispered against him.

  He pressed his mouth against mine again, this time much firmer. “I know,” he said, pulling back ever so slightly.

  His hand came up, cupping the back of my neck.

  “We should probably go,” I told him, unable to move.

  “We should,” he agreed, making no attempt to move.

  His lips continued to travel over mine, still so tender and meaningful. If this was going to be our last kiss then I should at least make it count. And that's exactly what I did. I reached up on my tiptoes, threaded my fingers through the silky strands of his hair and kissed him back with everything I had. My lips parted, granting him access, and the hand on the back of my neck tightened as he pressed me even closer to him. His tongue coated my lips before gently pushing its way in. The sensation made my toes curl as I met him stroke for stroke.

  My body hummed with ecstasy. I felt alive and scared all at the same time. Alive because I knew that this kiss would stay with me forever and scared because I knew in my heart that he could never be something different—my something more. As the realisation dawned on me, I pulled back, breaking contact.

  Jake dropped his hand and I pressed my thumb to my lips. I could still feel his lips against mine and I closed my eyes. “I have to go.”

  When I finally managed to open my eyes, Jake had his back turned, his hands scrubbing away at his face in frustration. He shook his head in his hands and when he eventually met my stare, he nodded silently.

  He made no attempt to leave, so I made my way to door, flipped the light off and waited for him outside. I could hear his muffled curses before he finally followed me out.

  “Will you be okay getting back?” he asked as I started to lock up.

  I lifted my eyes briefly and frowned. “Yeah, I guess…”

  “Good. I’ll pick the car up tomorrow.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever.”

  I could have sworn I heard him say something, but when I lifted my eyes again, he was already gone.

  22

  I’d made a lot of mistakes over the last year, including pushing my family away and lying to the people who cared about me. I’d kept my injury a secret and now I was keeping the fact that I no longer had a team to play for a secret, too. It was only when I walked away from Mel the night before that I realised where I’d been going wrong. I needed to fix things with my family, as well as Mel. She was lonely. She needed someone. I couldn’t afford to screw up when it came to her.

  The lines were blurred whenever we were together. It was as if we’d gone back in time—a time where it was okay to feel things for her and touch her in all the places I wanted to. A time where it was normal to haul her into my arms and kiss her. Only that time in our lives was long gone, and if we could be anything at all, it would have to be friends. It was hard to acknowledge that when I was in her company, and it didn’t help that I had a raging hard-on whenever she brushed against me. My feelings didn’t matter, though. As much as I wanted her, I couldn’t have her. She didn’t need me in her bed. She needed me as a friend. I only hoped I hadn’t completely fucked that up by kissing her. I didn’t know what had come over me. All I knew was that when she opened up and I caught the slightest glimpse of the girl in the picture, I couldn’t think of anything other than taking her in my arms and kissing her.

  “You still haven’t told me why your car is at the Livingston’s,” Riley said beside me, his voice pulling me back to reality.

  When we’d finished practice, I’d asked him to give me a lift to Mel’s house to pick up my car. I couldn’t ask Taylor. We still hadn’t spoken since the night we’d gotten into an argument, and driving me to Mel’s was the last thing he’d want to do considering she was the reason I flipped out on him. Riley had been my only choice. Well, I guess there was always Brie and Lola, but they hated Mel as much as Taylor did. I pushed my head back against the seat and stifled a yawn. “I stopped by last night to help her with something. We had a few drinks and I caught a taxi home.”

  “Are you guys a thing now?” I shot him a look that said he was being ridiculous. “What?” he said, his eyes flickering to mine briefly before he focused back on the road ahead.

  “Nothing.” I sighed.

  I glanced out of the window and almost told him to stop as he sped past the turning. Riley noticed his mistake and took a sharp right, spinning the back end of the Merc out. He quickly righted it and eyed me from the side.

  “Spit it out,” I said, knowing he was desperate to get something off of his chest.

  “You took her back that night in the bar… when she was wasted?”

  I rolled my head on my shoulders and glanced across at him. “Yep.”

  “You took a swing at your brother for mentioning their past?”

  “Correct.” I nodded.

  “And you spend the evening helping her out?”

  “Right. What’s your point?”

  “You’re still gonna sit there and deny something is going on?”

  “I told you before, it’s not like that.” It wasn’t a lie. Not really. Okay, so I may have failed to mention that we’d had sex and that last night I kissed her, but really, it was none of his business. It wasn’t like I grilled him for details on his sex life with Brie.

  “So, are you telling me you’re just friends and that’s it?” He smirked.

  “No. I’m telling you that it is possible to spend a few hours with a girl and not shove my dick inside her.”

  “If that’s true, you’re a stronger man than I am.” Riley shook his head. He was being fucking serious.

  “Brie needs her head tested.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her that,” he said, shooting me a grin before continuing. “I’m not saying I would actually do anything. All I’m saying is that the thoughts would be there. I mean, I’m a man after all.”

  “That’s debatable,” I mumbled.

  “I’m only saying what you’re afraid to admit,” he said in a mocking tone that had me shaking my head at him. He had no idea.

  “Whatever.” I sighed, unclipped my seat belt and gripping the door handle. “Just pull over here.”

  “We’re not even there yet.”

  “Just stop the car, for fuck’s sake.”

  Riley glanced in the rear-view mirror before pulling over in the layby. “Mate,” he said, turning to face me. “You need to get laid or noshed off. You’ve got more issues than FHM.”

  “Fuck you!” I gave him a swift elbow before climbing out of the car. “Same time tomorrow?”

  “It’s a date, sweetheart,” he teased, blowing a kiss. I shook my head and slammed the door behind me, watching as he sped off in a cloud of dust. Dick.

  I used the twenty-minute walk to figure out what I was going to say to Mel. Saying it in my head sounded stupid. Asking someone to be your friend was stupid. I had no idea if she would even want that, but I knew I had to at least try.

  My knee started to give way the second I reached the Livingston’s property. I should have let Rye drive me but I was too stubborn for that. Would she even be in? I hadn’t bothered to check. She could be working for all I knew. I guess there was only one way to find out.

  After punching in the code Mel had given me the other day, I made my way down the long gravel driveway towards her house. My car was still out front where I had left it, and I checked the back pocket of my jeans to make sure I’d remembered my keys. When my fingers found the keychain, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Great. Now all I h
ad to do was knock. Easy.

  Well, it would be easy if I knew what the hell I was going to say to her when and if she answered. After knocking once, twice, three times, I knew she must’ve been out, so I jogged back down the steps towards my car. Just as I hit the key fob and the beep sounded, the front door of the house opened and I glanced back to find Mel standing in the doorway wearing just a towel.

  Fuck.

  Her eyes met mine briefly before she glanced back over her shoulder and began speaking to whoever was inside the house. Then her eyes shifted to mine again. “Did you leave your keys?”

  “Nah, I’ve got them.” I dangled them in the air.

  “Oh, okay.”

  I glanced back at the car, shook my head, and jogged back up the steps. “Look,” I started. “Things are awkward as fuck between us. I get it. I know you do, too.” Mel frowned and said nothing. “When I’m around you it’s hard. Figuratively and literally.” I grinned.

  The corners of her mouth curled into a grin and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “Go on.”

  I pocketed my hands and rocked back and forth.

  Tell her you want to be friends, arsehole.

  I shook my head again. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, neither of us particularly have our heads on straight right now. I’ve got shit going on, and you... well, you’ve got…” Scratching the back of my neck, I thought over my next words. I knew I had to choose them carefully.

  “Issues?” Mel offered, quirking a brow.

  “I wouldn’t have said issues, no, but… well, I guess…”

  “Jake, spit it out. In case you haven’t noticed I’m standing here with just a thin towel covering me. It’s freezing.”

  I looked down and almost wished I hadn’t. Fuck. She was hot. Long, tanned legs that looked as smooth as silk, and a cleavage most women would kill for with nipples like missiles that screamed to be touched. Why did I have to look?

  “Jake?”

  “What?” I frowned.

  “Can you at least look me in the eye when you’re trying to tell me that you aren’t interested in anything more than a friendship?”