A Different Game: A Wrong Game Novel

by Matthews, Charlie M.

  “No, you’re the crazy one. Crazy in love with Jake.” She grinned and shot me a knowing look. Why was she grinning? Nothing about what she’d just said was funny.

  “I’m not in love with Jake. I’ve already told you, we’re friends. Nothing more. Whatever little fantasy you have in your head of us being together, forget it. It’s not going to happen.” I shook my head, turned away from her and ordered another drink. A large one.

  31

  I was up bright and early the next morning, completely hangover free. I tried not to dwell over what Frankie had said last night, but her words taunted me whenever I attempted to close my eyes. She was wrong. I wasn’t in love with Jake. He was a friend. A friend I hadn’t known I needed at the time. Truth was, him showing up when I least expected it made me happy. Who knew being friends with a guy could make me feel this way? I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t with Jake. He knew what I was like, and he still wanted to be around me. That meant more to me than any sexual relationship ever could. But even knowing that, I couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that filled my chest and deflated my hopes knowing he’d been out with somebody else. A guy like Jake didn’t spend the night with a girl without fucking her. Unless, of course, it was me.

  I dropped my head against the table and sighed in frustration.

  I’d come to the warehouse early that morning when I realised that sleeping wasn’t an option for me. Frankie was still asleep, so I left her a note, telling her I would see her after work tomorrow. There was no way she would be leaving her bed today, anyway. She was a firm believer that Sundays were made to rest.

  When I lifted my head, I pulled the dress I had been working on onto my lap and examined the hem. The stitching was off, which made me frustrated all over again. The needle must’ve been broken. At least I hoped it was that and nothing more serious. There was no way I could afford to replace the machine.

  I picked away at the seams and threaded a needle with the black cotton I’d used to sew the hem. I guess it wasn’t all that bad. I hadn’t lost a sequin yet.

  Just as I cut the thread after finishing the hem, the warehouse door opened. Jake strolled in with a sheepish look on his face, his cap shielding his eyes. I glanced up briefly and lowered my eyes again. “Feeling rough?” I asked as I tossed the needle back in the silver tin.

  Jake grunted a response and fell into the empty chair opposite me. “I feel like death,” he groaned.

  I tried not to seem too happy about that. Even though it made me feel a little better knowing he was suffering.

  The chair scraped against the worn tiled floor as I lifted the dress towards the light above. “That’s a shame. I feel fine,” I said, chewing my lip as I picked off some white fluff from the skirt section.

  “How long have you been here?” Jake asked. I flickered my eyes towards him just as he pulled his cap from his head and ran his fingers through his hair. His dark strands stuck up at every angle and I forced myself not to reach out and touch them.

  I turned my attention back to the dress and shrugged. “A few hours, maybe.”

  “Do you ever sleep?” Jake made a noise and pulled his cap back on.

  “I sleep. I just wanted to get this finished.”

  Jake gripped his head and I smirked. He really was suffering this morning.

  “Turn your back, would you?” I asked, slipping my feet out of my pumps.

  “What?” He frowned.

  “Turn your back. I want to try it on and make sure it fits.” I didn’t look up as I unzipped my jeans and started to lower them.

  “It’s nothing I’ve not already seen, Mel.”

  “So?”

  “Fine,” he huffed. Doing as I asked, he turned the chair around so he was facing away. While he wasn’t looking, I reached for the pair of scissors I used to cut the thread and held them in the air before dropping them. Jake jumped, cursed loudly and covered his head. Ha.

  Slipping out of my jeans, I pushed my legs into the dress. When it was at my waist, I tugged my vest up and over my head and tossed it on the table beside my jeans.

  When I slipped my arms into the dress and pulled it up, I told Jake he could turn back around. He did. Slowly. I knew what it felt like to be that hungover. I’d found myself in that state far too often. The slightest movement felt like you’d been hit by a freight train, and don’t get me started on the noise…

  Jake’s eyes eventually found mine, and when he eyed me up and down slowly, his jaw went slack. Was that a good sign? Did he like the dress?

  I blew out a breath. “Can you do the zipper up, please?” I asked, coming to stand with my back to him. Jake mumbled under his breath and stood up. It felt like minutes passed by before I felt his fingers against my back. When he rested a hand at the small of my back and tugged the zipper up, I thought I would pass out. I hated how much his touch affected me and I tried hard to push Frankie’s words back when they started to taunt me again.

  “There,” he said, falling back on the chair.

  I turned to face him and twirled on the spot. “What do you think?”

  His eyes met mine and a torturous look crossed his face. I wondered if I should offer him some ibuprofen for that headache, but then I remembered that he deserved to suffer after last night.

  When Jake didn’t say anything, I smoothed out the sequins on the bodice of the dress and lowered my eyes. Arsehole. Why was he even here? Just as I wondered why he’d bothered showing up at all, he stood, crossed the distance that separated us and pulled a lock of hair that had caught inside the neck of the dress. I blinked up at him as he pushed the wayward strand behind my ear. “You look beautiful, Mel.” His voice was a breathy whisper, and I tried to hold it together when his hand froze on my cheek. That was the second time he’d said that in the last twenty-four hours. I wanted so much to lean into his touch, but I knew the second I did he would likely pull away. He’d given no indication that we were anything but friends. And I couldn’t allow myself to believe he’d want me as anything more.

  I pulled back and stood in front of the floor-length mirror, smoothing over the skirt. “I was thinking of wearing it tonight,” I told him.

  “You going out tonight?’ he asked.

  “Yep. I’m going on a date.” The words had left my mouth before I could stop them.

  “You’re going on a date?” he blurted out, shock evident in his tone.

  I shrugged, looking back at him through the reflection. “I’ve got to try it sometime, right?”

  He narrowed his eyes and silently nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Should I wear this dress?”

  Jake pushed up from the old plastic chair and adjusted the peek on his cap. “The dress looks good on you, Mel. You should wear it.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.” I smiled briefly before twisting my arms around the back to unzip it.

  “I’ve gotta shoot. Have a good time tonight, Mel.”

  “You’re going already?” I frowned. “You just got here?”

  Jake looked defeated. He drew in a long breath and slowly released it. “I’ve got to pick up my car from Riley’s. I’ll see ya later.”

  I didn’t even have the chance to respond. He was already out of the door by the time I turned around.

  Well, that went well.

  The microwave pinged as I pulled out a bowl from the kitchen cupboard. When I opened the door, the sweet aroma of toffee popcorn filled my lungs, making my mouth water.

  Once I’d emptied the contents of the bag into the plastic bowl, I made my way into the living room and curled into the corner of the L shaped sofa. Pulling my legs under my bottom, I brought a square fluffy pillow to rest on my lap and hit play on the Sky remote. With a heap of popcorn in my hand, I settled down for the night.

  Thirty minutes into the second episode, my mobile phone flashed with a message. I moved the half-eaten bowl of popcorn to the empty spot beside me and unlocked the screen.

  Jake - How was the date?

  I p
ushed my face into my hands and groaned.

  Why did I lie to him about going on a date? It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Now it just felt silly. I didn't even know why I’d said it in the first place. It seemed the words had left my mouth without me having control of them.

  Did I say it in the hopes he’d get jealous and convince me not to go? Maybe, yes. But he had spent the night with Sadie so why would he care if I had a date or not?

  I couldn't help but feel shit for lying to him, especially after we’d agreed to be friends. So far he had kept to his word and this friendship between us was surprisingly good. Now I had messed that all up by telling him I had a date. There was no way I could admit that I lied. If I did, he'd know why I lied and I couldn't face the humiliation of him knowing the truth… that I had lied to make him jealous, because despite us being friends, I was jealous that he had left the club with Sadie and not me.

  I closed my eyes, blew out a breath and continued on with the lie.

  Me - It's going great! I’ll fill you in tomorrow.

  I stared down at the screen, waiting for him to reply. When ten minutes had passed without a response, I sighed and tucked my phone into the crease of the sofa.

  I couldn't seem to push down that awful feeling of lying to him. Trust was everything and I had broken that trust already. No matter how many times I convinced myself that it was one lie, one very small, insignificant lie, I knew it was still wrong. I just had to make sure that it didn’t happen again and that he never found out.

  32

  Riley hadn’t said a single word since we’d ordered our drinks and gone to sit outside. Normally I couldn’t get the kid to shut up long enough to get a word in edgeways, so I knew something was up with him. I figured it must have something to do with work. Maybe he was just having an off day. I’d had my fair share of those in the last few months, so I got it. I wondered if his dad had something to do with the foul mood he was in.

  Riley had started working for his dad at his computer software company after college. The day before our last day, Riley pulled us aside and told us that he wouldn’t be playing pro football. We were certain he was pulling our leg, but one look at his face told us he was telling the truth. We all knew how much he loved playing, so none of what he had said made any sense. When we grilled him on it, he said that he wanted a stable job, one that was guaranteed, and football just couldn’t give him that stability. We understood where he was coming from. I guess we always just presumed we would all leave college together and follow our dreams. Sitting behind a desk and answering calls wasn’t him following his dreams.

  Riley had been brought up different to us. He had to work for everything he owned. It wasn’t handed to him on a plate. His dad had brought his business up from nothing and worked all the hours in the day to keep it afloat. They weren’t rich. They didn’t have a fancy mansion in the countryside, nor did they have the social status like my parents had. They were grafters. Just normal, middle-class people trying to earn a steady living. I always thought that Riley’s parents had some influence in his decision. I guess they wanted their son to learn the value of an honest day’s work. And Riley went along with it. He never complained. He never moaned about not being able to play. He wasn’t even envious of Taylor and me for following our dreams. I’d lost a lot of friends through the years, some I missed, others not so much, but Riley? I kept him around because he was one of the good ones. Even if he had a foul mouth and an answer to everything.

  I watched with furrowed brows as Riley lifted the pint glass to his lips and left it there until he had polished it off. A frown marred his forehead as he slammed it down on the wooden bench. He looked like a tortured man as he stared off in the distance with worry lines etched high on his forehead.

  I wanted to ask him what had gotten into him, but I knew he wouldn’t answer me if I did. He would only talk when he was ready to, and I would be there to listen when that time came around. See, that’s what Riley did when something was bothering him. He stayed silent, ignoring everyone around him until eventually it became too much and he blurted it all out. But it had been a long time since something had bothered him this much. I knew whatever it was must be serious.

  I pushed up from the bench, thinking another round was in order. Just as I pulled a leg out from under the table and planted it on the other side, he sighed. It was the first noise I’d heard him make all afternoon. When I glanced down at him, he was shaking his head.

  “I fucked up,” he said, still shaking his head.

  I sat back down, almost afraid to ask what he’d done. Riley looked at me with pleading eyes, as if he was willing me to say something. “What did you do?” I eventually asked, bracing myself for what was to come.

  “More like who did I do.” Riley let out a frustrated groan and dropped his forehead to the table, interlocking his fingers behind his head. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t?” I sighed. Tia. I sensed that something had happened between them, but I told myself that I was just drunk and imagining things.

  “I did.”

  I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. When I opened them, his eyes were on me and that same tortured look settled across his face once again. “Fuck it!” he roared. “I’m screwed.”

  “Have you…?”

  “Told Aubrie? No. Not yet. Fuck! What am I gonna do, J?”

  “You’re gonna have to tell her, mate. She’ll only hear it from someone else if you don’t.” I knew first-hand how quickly gossip spread around Winslow. It wouldn’t be long before Brie found out the truth. That’s if she hadn’t already.

  “I know, but… fuck, I can’t do it to her.”

  I shook my head. “You already have.” I wasn’t being an arse. The damage had already been done. “Do the decent thing, Rye. Tell her yourself. Imagine how much worse it’ll be if she hears it from someone else.”

  “When I saw her yesterday. After…” Riley closed his eyes and inhaled a long breath. “She threw her arms around me and told me how sorry she was. I was convinced that the second she took one look at me that she’d know I’d fucked up. She apologised, mate.”

  “Rye...” It was all I had to offer.

  “Do you wanna know what the worst thing is?” he asked, his brows raised high.

  I shook my head.

  “She said that she was worried she would end up destroying us. That because of Mel, she wasn’t fully able to trust me. She’s insecure because of me and there she is apologising to me like it’s her fault she’s feeling that way. She fucking apologised, Jake. Can you believe it?”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing you can say. I’ve got to tell her. That’s all there is to it.”

  “You know it’s the right thing to do, right?”

  “No. The right thing to do was not to do it at all. What was I thinking, ay?”

  “You weren’t,” I replied honestly.

  “It’s gonna kill her. I’m gonna break her heart all over again, only this time, she won’t forgive me. She won’t take me back. And do you know what? She shouldn’t. All I ever do is hurt her.”

  I looked to my mate, and for the first time in forever there wasn’t a damn thing I could say to him to make it all better. I had no comforting words. Nothing to help ease the pain. I knew that something had happened with Tia. I had been too busy with my fingers inside Sadie to even care what was going on with the two of them. I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve stopped him from making the second biggest mistake of his life, and instead I sat back and let it happen. Even when he came back acting as though nothing had happened, I had wanted to believe that he had learnt his lesson, that he wouldn’t go behind Brie’s back again.

  “You should’ve seen her face,” he continued. “I couldn’t even look at her. She was convinced I was still mad at her for the other night, and I let her carry on believing that because I was too much of a pussy to tell her the fuckin’ truth.”
>
  “She loves you,” I told him, as if that fucking mattered.

  “And I love her, too. So fuckin’ much. This is killing me, Jake. Her face,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m never gonna get that picture out of my head.”

  “Go and see her. Tell her what happened. As much as it’s gonna destroy her, you need to tell her. Everything. You never know. She might learn to forgive you.”

  “Na. That ain’t gonna happen. And even if it does, I can’t continue being with her.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, even if she does forgive you, then it’s still over?”

  “I can’t put her through that. She’ll never trust me again. Not in a million years. I don’t blame her. I don’t even trust me.”

  I drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. This was going to destroy her. She had taken him back the last time. I didn’t hold much hope for that happening again. And Riley wasn’t going to fight her on it, either. Riley was my friend, but even I thought she was an idiot for forgiving him so easily. I guess that was what you did when you loved someone. Forgave them. Fought for them. Risked your heart for that one person who was capable of ruining you. The trust between Riley and Aubrie was already gone. It was why Riley very rarely went out without her. He was my mate and in a way, I felt sorry for him. He looked so distraught at the realisation of what he had done and what he was about to lose. But he had brought it on himself. Whatever happened after today, our group would never be the same again.

  33

  Ever since that night at the warehouse when I made Jake put on the dress and he started acting strange, limping and clearly in pain, something had been niggling away at me. He rarely spoke about football anymore, and whenever I brought it up he would conveniently change the subject or distract me in some way. That afternoon, during my lunch break, I Googled him. When I text Frankie to tell her what I was doing, she said it was a bad idea. But I couldn't help it. I needed to know what he was keeping from me.