Playing the Game

by JL Paul

  My mother knocked on my door near eleven, ordering me to get some rest. Her eyes avoided mine, causing guilt to stab at my heart. I told her I would and watched silently as she shut the door. I washed in my bathroom and climbed into bed, exhausted enough to fall to sleep with little effort.

  My throat was still a little rough in the morning but I kept it to myself. I ate my breakfast in silence and escaped as soon as possible. I prepared a salt water mixture with the salt shaker I’d lifted from the kitchen and gargled for fifteen minutes. It helped enough and I decided to give my throat a break.

  I considered the long Sunday before me and vaguely remembered the tickets Jess had promised. I wouldn’t go. If I could stand up to my mother, I could stand up to Jess.

  I flipped on my TV before dashing into my bathroom to fill my tub while the National Anthem filled my room. I climbed in before the first pitch crossed the mound and closed my eyes. I’d left my bathroom door open, not quite accidentally, and could make out the announcers’ voices as they described what was happening on the field. Jess was off to a shaky start, apparently, but managed to get out of a jam without allowing a run.

  Good for him, I snorted. I sank further into the bubbles as my muscles untangled in the warm water.

  When the water turned tepid, I reluctantly climbed out, toweling off while Jess took the mound for the fifth inning. After I dressed, I sat at the end of my bed, taking in his lean, sinewy form. The Racers were losing by three runs and I frowned as Jess fired off a pitch. His command was not up to par and I wondered if he was playing off the sore shoulder. Maybe it was something he should be a little more concerned with. I was.

  After Jess loaded the bases, the portly Lou Harding marched to the mound. He held out his hand and Jess slammed the ball in Lou’s palm. He kicked the dirt angrily as he stormed to the dugout. The camera followed him and his little temper tantrum all the way to the clubhouse. He slung his mitt against the wall and kicked a batting helmet out of his way. No one stopped him or offered a word of comfort but I couldn’t blame them. I was all too familiar with Jess’s dark moods.

  But I felt his hurt in my own heart. Regret knocked me off my feet as I clicked off the TV, no longer concerned with the outcome. I should have been at the game. Maybe I would have been able to get to him and maybe not. But perhaps it would have lifted his spirits a little to see me there.

  I ached to call him but he was so proud, he’d either laugh it off or cuss me for being so stupid. Another idea sprang to mind. I hurriedly turned on the television as I combed my hair, waiting anxiously for the game to end.

  I’d go to his house and confront him. What I’d say, I didn’t really know. But I had at least an hour to figure it out.

  ***

  I told my mother I was going shopping and would be back later. I had accumulated a decent sized bank account from previous gigs and shows. I definitely wasn’t rich – not in the least- but I could afford a new outfit or two. Thanks to Dane, I had invested the little bit of money I’d earned and had nearly doubled it. He was the one who had helped me get a loan for my aging car and had set up my payments so that they were just taken from my savings account each month. I just had to make sure I was careful with my spending.

  That’s no problem, I thought. I didn’t usually go on shopping binges. My mother enjoyed making outfits for me to wear to auditions and such. She had an eye for fashion and I never looked or felt uncomfortable.

  I parked in front of Jess’s house, relieved to see his H3 parked in the driveway. My knees wobbled as I walked up the path to his door. He opened it before I could knock, smirk on his lips but anger glimmering in his eyes.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  His lean frame took up most of the doorway - arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You weren’t at the game.”

  I lifted a helpless shoulder. “Sorry.” I bit my lip. “I watched some of it, though. Are you…um…okay?”

  Groaning, he dropped his arms, pushing the screen door open for me. I grabbed it as he turned his back and headed toward the kitchen. “Don’t start the pity party, Aubrey; I don’t need it.”

  “All I did was ask if you were okay. I could never feel sorry for an arrogant bastard.”

  Stopping, he spun to face me. His eyes narrowed before his mouth broke into a wide grin. He threw his head back and laughed. I relaxed as my cheeks tightened with a smile.

  “I’m glad you came, sweetheart. Hungry? I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”

  Once again, he didn’t wait for my answer – instead he picked up his phone and hit a speed dial number. He kept his eyes on me as he ordered, making sure to include every topping he knew I hated.

  “One more thing,” he said with a slight smile. “I need a small with pepperoni, ham, bacon, and pineapple.” He winked at me as he listened before he gave his address and hung up the phone.

  “I’m surprised you remembered what I like on my pizza,” I said, trying to slip as much sarcasm into my voice as possible. I failed. My tone was more awe.

  “I haven’t forgotten a single thing about you, Aubrey Rose,” he said. I believed him. He took me by the shoulders and yanked me to his hard body. Dipping his head, he captured my lips in a warm kiss. I was shocked, at first, but it wore off quickly as I responded. He smiled against my mouth before planting one last, lingering kiss on my lips. “Just like I remember – sweet yet with a hint of anger.”

  “You sound like you’re describing a bottle of wine,” I said, catching my breath.

  His hands slipped from my shoulders to my waist and tightened. He kissed me softly on the cheek but his eyes were pure fire. My blood bubbled as my eyes grew. Bolts of want and lust shot through the bottom of my stomach, forcing heat to my cheeks. He crushed his lips to mine again and I grabbed his shoulders to steady my failing legs. My hands worked up his neck and wound in his hair. Sighing, I melted into him, following his lead. He chuckled a little and I took that moment to suck in air. His mouth closed over mine again and my mind went pleasantly numb. He broke the kiss after a few more minutes, wiping the corners of his mouth.

  “You do things to me, Aubrey, that no other woman can.” His declaration took me by surprise. I had no idea what he meant – whether it was good or bad – and I had no intention of asking. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to drink.”

  I agreed. I needed a little space between us before I melted.

  He placed a water bottle in front of me and took a seat, beer in hand.

  “Thanks,” I managed to mutter. My head, although still spinning, was starting to slow like a carousel at the end of a ride. Anger percolated again. What the hell was my problem? He told me he didn’t want me yet he kisses me senseless every time I’m near him. And I let him!

  “Jess, you need to stop kissing me like that,” I said in as firm a tone as I could muster.

  He cocked his head. “Wasn’t it good for you?”

  “That’s beside the point,” I said, turning my eyes slightly away and hoping to hide my blush. “You don’t like me that way. You said so.”

  “Nah, Aubrey, you’re sadly mistaken.” He leaned on the table encroaching on my personal space. “I never said I didn’t like you. I do happen to like you. That way.” He winked. “I just don’t wear my heart on my sleeve like you do.”

  “But why…?”

  “I said I couldn’t date you. It’s not fair.” He unwrapped one of my hands from my water bottle and twined his fingers with mine. “I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.”

  “I am not a stray puppy you found on the side of the road,” I pouted, a little outraged still.

  He laughed. “You sound like Kendra. No wonder you two got along.”

  I ducked my head and admired the complicated grain of his beautiful kitchen table. Anger intermingled with hurt. Was he pushing me away or telling me he wanted to give us a try? I definitely wasn’t going to ask. I was too afraid of what his answer would be.

  “Aubrey,” he groaned. I peered at
him through my lashes. His hold on my hand tightened. “I explained this to you.” He released my hand and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Yes, Aubrey, I have feelings for you – always have. But do you possibly think things between us would work?”

  “How do you know they wouldn’t?” I asked, anger resurfacing.

  He let go of my chin and sat back in his chair. “I don’t.” He stared into my eyes and I didn’t flinch. I could do this. I could stand up to him. But his gaze didn’t waver and my eyes began to water.

  When the doorbell rang, Jess grinned. “Pizza.”

  He leapt gleefully from the chair and sprinted off to answer the door. With a hopeless sigh, I heaved my body from my seat. I opened cabinets until I found plates as he dropped the pizzas on the table. Lifting the lid of the top box, he inhaled deeply, eyes closed. His groan was orgasmic and it made those sparks of desire fire up in my gut.

  “Use a plate,” I ordered, aiming my concentration on his bad table manners and not on his sexy face.

  “Yes, dear,” he said in a wicked tone. He took a plate from my hand and crammed three slices of his disgusting pizza on it. “Sorry. I have no manners.” He set his plate down and moved his pizza to the side. He opened the other box, selected two slices, and placed them on my plate. “Better?”

  “Sure,” I mumbled. “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem, sweetheart,” he said, impish glint in his eyes. He devoured three quarters of his pizza while I nibbled on the two slices in front of me. Usually, I had a healthy appetite. Well, for the most part, anyway. But my nerves had my stomach jumping more than an ice cube in a blender and I was afraid anything I ate would come right back up. I couldn’t deal with that.

  I took the opportunity to study him while he ate. I’d nearly forgotten my reason for coming to see him. He didn’t seem in the least concerned about his shoulder and didn't appear to be in any discomfort. But I knew Jess. I scrutinized him closer. A little pain was etched around his eyes and it touched my heart. I couldn’t mention it outright, however, so I held it in for now. I needed a chance to figure it out before I proceeded.

  After we ate, I decided I needed to get home. Jess walked me to the door without argument. He kissed me again, taking me by surprise.

  “We’ll play it by ear,” he muttered against my lips. I smiled against his in response and it took the entire ride home to get my heart under any kind of control.

  As I tossed and turned in my bed that night, my poor brain nearly suffered a meltdown trying to analyze the complicated entity known as Jess Rivers.

  Chapter Six

  My jubilant mood lasted until Monday night. I tried not to sit by the phone – well, figuratively since I carried my cell everywhere – waiting for Jess to call. Disappointment shrouded me like a low hanging cloud when I reluctantly climbed into bed. They were still in town - the schedule I had saved on my computer declared they were playing Springfield Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and would travel Thursday to Cincinnati for a three game series next weekend. All I had to do was call him but I was tired of … well… wearing my heart on my sleeve like he said I was doing. If he'd meant what he said about still having feelings for me and about playing it by ear, he could call me.

  I called Gwen Tuesday morning, ready to vent, but she was distracted and asked if we could talk later. I agreed, very disappointed, but a little worried. Gwen always made time for me. I would call her later and hopefully I could get some answers out of her. And not only about Jess.

  I worked with my mother longer than necessary Tuesday which pleased her. She had me try on outfit after outfit for Wednesday’s show. They all began to look the same and even though she asked my opinion, I had a feeling it wouldn’t matter.

  Samantha and her tight group were their usual irritating selves when I arrived at the studio Wednesday morning. I was pretty irritable myself since I hadn’t heard a peep from Jess. I'd complained rather loudly to Gwen Tuesday night but she merely nodded, totally subdued. She'd uncharacteristically agreed with each of my rants and hadn't offered a single theory or solution. It had annoyed me, yes, but it worried me even more. I'd wanted to ask what was going on with her – the words were on my lips- but I'd forced them back instead. I figured she’d tell me if she wanted me to know.

  Grabbing my sweats and t-shirt from my locker, I headed to the stage. We had to do a group number for that evening’s show which meant I had to cooperate with Samantha. We were positioned next to each other and she did her best to thwart me. She sang louder than me, doing her best to outshine me. I rolled my eyes; I’d seen it before. I let her continue and concentrated only on myself. I hoped that my strategy would pay off and later tonight, the judges would notice, counting it against her instead of me.

  And it worked. Richard and Marissa weren’t the only ones to notice Samantha's behavior. Only sweet Chelsea didn’t mention it. Samantha hit the stage for her solo performance before me and when she had to face the judges, they berated her. She fumed when she passed me in the hall backstage, brushing roughly against me. Holding in my laughter, I composed myself as I stepped out onto the stage. I chatted politely with the host before he walked away, allowing me to do my thing.

  After my argument with my mother, I'd managed to choose my own music. I'd decided to make a smooth transition and do Sheryl Crow’s version of Landslide. It went over well with the judges though Richard and Marissa still mentioned my stiffness.

  “You’re not having fun,” Marissa complained. “Don’t you want to be here?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, trying to digest her words without the aid of an antacid.

  I fled backstage with my tail between my legs. I hoped their attitudes would change tomorrow for the results show or else I’d be back to square one with my mother.

  Driving home, silence reigned.

  She’s pondering the best way to use this to her advantage, I thought. I couldn’t wait to hear what she’d come up with later.

  As I lay on my bed that night, staring blindly at my television, Jess finally called. My heart went into overdrive as I scrambled to answer.

  “I have to agree with the judges, Aubrey,” he said, not even greeting me. “What the hell is the problem?”

  “Hello, Jess,” I groaned. “Nice to talk to you, too.”

  “I know you can do better. Hell, I’ve heard you sing before. I think the bitchy woman has a point. What, are you trying to lose?” His voice was high and tight. And confusing me. Since when did he care?

  “No, I don’t want to lose. Maybe I had an off night,” I said.

  “Bullshit, Aubrey. You haven’t been yourself the entire season.”

  My head spun. His words clumped in the front of my brain, making me wince. “I’ll be fine,” I whispered, at a loss for words. “Did you have any other reason for calling?”

  “I’m leaving in the morning and won’t be back for about a week. I thought you might like to get together.”

  A frustrated groan escaped my lips. “Are you serious? It’s late.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I haven’t heard from you in days and all of a sudden you want to see me?” He grew silent and I grew triumphant. Stew on that, I thought.

  “We’ve both been busy,” he said in a dangerously low voice. “But if you don’t want to see me, fine.”

  And I thought I was winning this latest conversation. How did he always manage to do this to me?

  “Where do you want to meet?” I asked, defeated. Tears were burning my eyes and I hadn’t a clue why.

  “Come over,” he ordered, sending brain into plan mode. What would I tell my mother?

  “I’ll be there in a few.” I actually hung up before him this time.

  My mother barely raised a brow when I announced I was going out for awhile. It was far too easy an escape but I would deal with it later. My longing to see Jess was too great.

  ***

  He opened the door as soon as I set foot on his porch and he yanked me inside. Befo
re I knew what was happening, I was in his arms and his lips were pressed firmly to mine. I had to pull away for oxygen and to give my heart a chance to settle.

  Taking my hand, he led me to the living room. My eyes took in the rich, masculine décor as I settled on the leather sofa. The room was painted dark beige with several prints from local artists adorning the walls. A huge bay window faced the road.

  “Nice place, Jess,” I said. He nodded, his eyes on me.

  When he tenderly brushed a strand of hair out of my face, a jolt of worry shot through my heart. Jess wasn’t usually so gentle.

  “Thanks for coming, Aubrey.” His voice was husky

  I squeezed his hand in mine. “Jess, what is the matter?” Panic ripped at my stomach and rippled throughout my body.

  He chuckled. “Nothing. I guess I just got a little attached to you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and he did the same. His gray eyes smoldered and my worry ebbed away. Panic was quickly replaced with excitement. Leaning in, he captured my lips with his own - a little softer this time. My hands traveled up his chest, reuniting behind his neck. He held me carefully, not pressing for more, making the worry return. I broke the kiss to look into his eyes.

  “Jess?”

  Grinning, he flipped me around, pulling me into his lap. My back pressed into his chest as he reached for the remote control on the coffee table and turned on the big screen television. He leaned back, taking me with him, and rested his chin on my shoulder. My heart’s thump increased again, only this time in concern. Jess was so out of character that it scared me worse than standing on a stage facing Marissa.

  “I have to go to bed in a few hours, Aubrey. I just thought it would be cool to chill out with you for awhile.”

  I nodded as I snuggled into him. I’d take what he was willing to give and analyze it later.

  His love of all things on The Discovery Channel hadn’t waned in the past five years and we watched episodes of his favorite shows quietly with only a comment here and there. Every once in a while, he’d press his lips to my neck or my temple and I’d have to fight a shiver.