Revenge Games (Revenge Games Duet Book 1)

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Revenge Games (Revenge Games Duet Book 1) Page 3

by Sky Corgan


  “Yes.” I grab my purse off of the kitchen island, lock up, and practically drag him towards the elevator.

  “I must have had an allergic reaction to something I ate,” he tells me like Captain Obvious after we crawl into my car.

  “I hope it wasn't my cookies,” I mutter, knowing damn well that it was.

  “You didn't put anything weird in them, did you?”

  The question makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Might as well have been cyanide, I think to myself, but respond, “No.”

  We drive to the hospital in silence. On the way there, Caleb grabs my work badge hanging from a lanyard on my rear-view mirror and looks at it. I suck in a shaky breath as he reads my name, certain that he's finally going to put it all together.

  “You work for Advanced Data Solutions?” he asks with a huff.

  “Uh, yeah...” I do my best to keep my eyes on the road, though I feel stress infecting every fiber of my being.

  “I have a friend who works there.”

  I don't care. I'm not interested in making conversation with him. I don't want to be friends. I just want to get him to the hospital and make sure that he's alright so that I can wipe this from my conscience and move on with my life.

  I'll leave him alone after this, I decide. While I still don't feel like this is payback enough for the pain that he caused me, it's pretty damn bad. The hospital bill will cost him a fortune, not to mention the time it will take for his body to heal. He's probably going to be walking around looking like an ogre for at least a day or two.

  We get to the emergency room, and they almost immediately take Caleb back. I sit and wait for him, feeling all kinds of conflicting emotions.

  I made up for my bad deed. I got him to the hospital. There's no point in me waiting around for him now. The asshole can take an Uber home. Besides, I have work in the morning, and who knows how long this is going to take.

  Do I want to feel any more guilt tonight by leaving him stranded though? I'm stressed out enough as it is. Besides, if I just disappear, he'll probably show up at my apartment when he gets home to bitch me out. I don't want to have to deal with that.

  I grumble to myself, hating Caleb for inconveniencing me, even though I technically did this to myself. No, not me. If he hadn't betrayed me back then, we never would have gotten to this point. The fault is equal, I decide after stewing over it for a good twenty minutes.

  Caleb emerges from the back, looking about the same as he did when we came in. He pays his bill and then joins me in the waiting area.

  “Well, how did it go?” I ask, standing. “Did they say you're going to live?”

  “They just gave me a steroid shot. I wasn't having any trouble with my breathing, so I didn't need an EpiPen or anything. This probably could have waited.” He looks past me as if he's upset that I took him to the emergency room.

  Jerk. This is what I get for caring.

  “Well, I'll be on my way then.” I take a deep breath and turn from him.

  “Wait!” He jogs to catch up to me, grabbing my wrist and forcing me to turn around.

  I pull away from him as if his fingers are poisonous, looking down at his hand with disdain. “What?”

  “You drove me here.” He gives me a queer look.

  “So?” I hug myself.

  “So...you're going to give me a ride home, right?” He thumbs towards our apartment complex.

  “Take an Uber.” I stick my nose up to him.

  “What? Why?” Caleb quirks his head back. “Aren't you going back to the apartment?”

  “That's none of your business.” I huff, averting my gaze.

  He furrows his brow. “What's your problem? You've been acting really weird towards me since we met.”

  Anger bubbles up inside of me. The fact that we've spent all of this time together and he still doesn't know who I am. I thought I had meant something to him in the past. A friend. I guess not. The fact that he doesn't remember me at all is proof that I was never more than a fly. Someone indistinguishable from a million other flies that buzz around in annoyance.

  “Do you want to know what my problem is?” I glare at him. He seems taken aback by my sudden twist in mood. “Do you even know who I am?”

  “Uh, yeah. You're Willow, my next door neighbor. We live in the same complex together.” Caleb weaves his head at me as if I'm crazy, and that only ticks me off more.

  I stand up tall and try to look proud as I announce, “I'm Willow Ann Stroop.”

  He just stares at me blankly for a moment before shaking his finger at me. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  My anger doubles in the blink of an eye. I want to punch him in his swollen ugly face, but he's not worth going to jail over.

  “I'm Honey Boo Boo's ugly twin sister.” Just recalling the nickname makes pain whip through me. Every cell in my body is on fire with disgust at who I used to be. My hands are trembling, so I flex them so that he doesn't see how ruffled this conversation has gotten me.

  Caleb's mouth falls agape. Then recognition finally hits him, and he smiles. “Willow! Oh my God, I didn't realize it was you. How have you been?” He rushes forward to hug me, and I push him off, taking a step back and raising my fists in a defensive stance.

  “What do you mean how have I been? I've been absolutely horrible,” I practically yell.

  He glances around to see if anyone is watching us before returning his attention to me. “But you look great. You lost so much weight. I'm so excited that you moved in next door. Now we can be great friends again.”

  “Oh, shove it.” I flail, realizing that I look like a crazy woman. “I don't want to be your friend.”

  “Why not?” His expression twists in confusion.

  “Do you have any idea what you put me through? Even the slightest idea?” I pinch my fingers together. Obviously not, or he wouldn't be acting so damn oblivious.

  “I don't know what you're talking about.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, playing cool.

  I blow out an exasperated breath, trying to calm myself. I've been making a scene. The only saving grace is that he needs me for a ride. It's probably why he hasn't run away yet.

  “You're the reason that I dropped out of high school. But I'm sure you didn't even notice.”

  “I had heard you'd dropped out, but no one knew why. What did I have to do with it?”

  The memory assaults me like a stab to the chest. Recalling it brings so much pain, but I need to get this out. He needs to know why I hate him—why I never want to see him again after tonight.

  “Do you remember the end of year dance our senior year?”

  “Mhm.” Caleb nods as if it means nothing to him. It meant everything to me.

  I lick my lips, knowing that there's no way to word this where I don't embarrass myself. It doesn't matter anymore, though, because after today, he's nothing to me. I will go about my life pretending that he doesn't exist, because that's all I can do.

  “You didn't have a date for it,” I begin. “I knew that because I listened in on your conversations with your friends at the ice cream parlor. You were always so kind to me. Told me how pretty I was. Well, maybe not that far, but you would compliment the things I'd wear from time to time. I remember one time you told me that this pink shirt I was wearing was cool.” I nod to myself, fighting back a smile. Shit, I'm getting off track. But I need to say this. I need to get it all out so that he understands the weight of what he's done to me. “You were the only person when I was growing up who made me feel like my existence mattered...that I wasn't just a waste of space. No one else wanted anything to do with me because I was fat and poor. I didn't have nice clothes, and I smelled like trash because of my mother's hoarding. People scoffed at me in the hallways, gave me a wide berth, and said nasty things behind my back. A lot of them even said nasty things to my face. I can't count the number of days I went home crying and feeling like I wanted to die.” I hug myself, feeling all of the unpleasantness of the horri
ble things I've experienced. “You were different, though. You never shied away from me. That year that my locker was below yours was my best year of high school. I knew I would never be a part of your world. Not really. But I got a taste of it when we would cross paths.” Tears begin to well up in my eyes.

  “I fell in love with you the day you chased away the kids who were making fun of me on the playground. It was long ago. I'm sure you don't remember it. But I've loved you ever since. I knew you were different then. At least, I thought you were.”

  I inhale deeply, pushing back the pain so that I can continue my story without falling apart. It feels like it's only a matter of time. “You didn't have a date for the end of year dance. I figured that I had nothing to lose, so I was going to ask you. I knew you would probably say no, but I wanted to show you that you made me feel like I had at least some self-worth.” I sniffle, wiping the first tear away as it cascades down my cheek.

  “But...you never asked me.” He still looks confused, but he'll understand soon enough.

  “No. I never asked you.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I was going to. Had every intention of doing it. I was actually on my way to ask you when I saw you talking to Alvin Miller. I stopped and hid behind the lockers to listen in on your conversation. You were talking...about me,” my voice comes out in a squeak.

  Caleb inhales deeply, his eyes volleying back and forth as he tries to recall the conversation. I can tell that he's starting to remember, but just in case his memory is blurry, I continue, “I had been stupid. I had mentioned to one of the girls in my homeroom that I was going to ask you out. Of course, she made fun of me. I knew she would. I just hadn't expected that she'd tell someone—that word would spread so quickly.

  “Someone must have told Alvin Miller, because when I stumbled upon the two of you, you were talking about it. He had said, 'That gross girl Willow Stroop is going to ask you out to the dance. Isn't that ridiculous?' and you had just responded, 'Yes.'” Another strike to my heart. “Then he said, 'She's a fat troll. Who in their right mind would ever agree to be seen with her?' and you had shrugged and said, 'I don't know.' My heart shattered into a million pieces that day.” I stare blankly into the distance, picturing everything as if it had just happened.

  Caleb's entire body seems to slump. “Willow, I hadn't meant any of it. I was just—”

  “Save it.” I hold my hand out to stop him. “I don't need your excuses or sympathy. Right now, I need you to listen so that you can understand how that affected me.”

  “Alright.” He nods.

  I chew my bottom lip, thinking of the downward spiral that I went into after that day. “You don't understand how badly that hurt me. How little I cared about anything...including myself.

  “I dropped out of school, even though we were about to graduate, because I couldn't stand to face you again. I had run home that day crying uncontrollably. My mother was stuck in one of her disillusion states. My sisters tried to comfort me, but it did little good. Everywhere I looked, I saw the same thing. That nothing ever changes. Nothing matters. So I decided that day, fuck it. I didn't matter. No one cared about me, so why should I care about myself. I was going to live my life for me. Do what I wanted. Not care what people thought.

  “I ate myself into oblivion. People thought that I was fat before. I put on an extra fifty pounds.” I nod to myself, remembering the pitiful creature that I had become. “I never went outside. Rarely left my room. I simply sat there and ate away my hatred for the world.

  “There was no point in leaving. People were horrible. My room was my sanctuary. It was the one place I didn't have to worry about being pointed at and made fun of. I was safe there. God, I hated that fucking sty of a place, but I was safe there,” I seethe, remembering the bags and knick knacks and clothing and trash that surrounded me. That's exactly what I had become, a pig in a sty, eating myself to death because I saw no other point to life.

  “So what happened?” Caleb looks me up and down, and I know he's referring to my transformation.

  “My father died of a heart attack,” I reply sorrowfully, the memory still painful to endure. “I was a daddy's girl, so it hit me like a ton of bricks. The doctor said it was because of his weight. It was too much on his heart. As you know, my entire family is morbidly obese.” I glance up at Caleb, though I refuse to look at him for more than a second.

  “I knew that I was going down the same path, that I would meet the same fate if I kept living the way that I was. My father had always told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be. I never thought that included being skinny. But his death scared me half to death. For a while after, every chest pain I had, I was convinced that I was having a heart attack, too.

  “So one day, while going through my father's things, I found a sheet of paper that had some exercises printed on it. I started doing those exercises, and I also began eating less. I didn't change my diet; I just didn't eat as much. Every week, I reduced my calorie intake by 100 calories a day. I made a food diary and meticulously wrote down everything that I stuck in my mouth. It was...easier than I thought it would be.

  “Naturally, the weight came off slowly, but it was coming off, nonetheless. I started to feel better and was able to get more active. I joined the local gym and started spending all of my free time on the treadmill. Hell, I was there so much that I practically moved in. Instead of spending my meager allowance on going to the ice cream parlor, I went to the gym. Of course, by that time, you had already moved away. Almost everyone had moved away.

  “I couldn't escape who I was, though. And I hated the person I was. I hated who I always would be while I was in Marfa. So I got a job at Walmart as a night stocker and used the money from that to start going to school. What didn't go towards college, I squirreled away so that I could move out as soon as possible. And here we are now.” I look at him finally.

  To my surprise and dismay, he's smiling at me.

  “What?” I quirk my head back.

  “I'm proud of you. I mean, look at you. You've really turned things around.”

  “No thanks to you,” I growl at him.

  “Oh, Willow, don't be that way. That was a long time ago.” Caleb jerks his head as if nodding towards the past. “There's no reason why we can't be friends now.”

  A bitter laugh falls from my lips. The son of a bitch just doesn't get it. “There are so many reasons. More than I'll ever be able to count.

  “I don't want anything to do with you. In fact, I don't want to see you ever again.” I start walking backward. “I would tell you to have a nice life, but I would be lying. I hope you have a horrible life with nothing but misfortune, because you're an ugly person on the inside, just like all the rest.”

  “Hey.” He calls back to me. “Well, will you at least give me a ride home?”

  “Nope. Get an Uber, jackass.” I mock salute him before turning around and walking out of the hospital, leaving him standing there dumbstruck.

  2

  Willow

  My plot to get rid of Caleb Ryan has failed, I think with a scowl. Now, if I do something shitty to him, he'll know it's me. Maybe he's even already figured out that most of his recent misfortune was because of me. I don't care, though. Getting that small bit of revenge makes me at least a little bit happier. And I desperately need to be happy.

  It's time to shift my focus. I can't do anything more about Caleb, but I can still work towards finding my ultimate happiness through dating and eventually marrying Peter Burgett. He looks so handsome today in another navy suit. This one is pinstriped. I'm beginning to think that's the only color of suit he has in his closet, but it looks great on his body.

  I stand outside after work, knowing he'll be flying out of the building at any moment. There's a fluttering in my stomach as I think of what I'm about to do. These days, it seems like I'm always plotting something, though this is technically innocent.

  Finally, the moment arrives. I shift my weight and brush a strand of hair behind my ear, lowering
my gaze and making myself invisible. He doesn't acknowledge my existence. Normally, that would hurt, but today it's exactly what I wanted.

  I open the camera on my phone and zoom in before raising it. It's not until he's almost to his car that I get the focus on him. I hold my breath and wait for him to turn around so that I can see his handsome face before I snap the picture. I snap as many pictures as my finger can manage before he disappears out of sight.

  It's not until I'm done that I look around to see if anyone saw me. It would be weird for someone to catch me taking pictures of my boss, but I could always lie and say I was taking pictures of something else, or that I was doing something else entirely. Thankfully, no one is watching me, though.

  I make a giddy noise as I rush to my car, praying that I got something good. Even with an expensive phone, catching a person in motion usually results in a blurry image. At least, when I take pictures, it does.

  I sit in my car with the door open and flip through the pictures that I took of Peter. Most of them are bad, with his back turned to me or his face angled down. But I do manage to capture one where he's looking in my general direction. My God, is he ever handsome. I squee as I hold my phone to my chest, my heart beating fiercely.

  When I get home, I sit on the sofa and pull my phone out again to look at the picture, wondering what kind of girls Peter likes. Probably girls like Becky, I think with a frown. Lithe and peppy and fashionable. I'm frumpy by comparison.

  One thing is for certain, he's not going to like me if I keep being a couch potato and get fat again. I've lived in my new apartment for a week now, using the excuse that I've been unpacking and settling in to keep me home at night. There are no more boxes to unpack, though. There hasn't been for a few days. It's time for me to get my lazy ass to the gym and get back on track with my fitness.

  I change into my workout clothes and head out to my car. Caleb's truck is parked next to the complex, and his tire is over the line. He's still driving the white Ford F150 he had in high school. I recognize it by the bumper stickers.

 

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