Hate the Game

by Holly Hall

  From the outside, it was easy to recognize all the signs. The subtle digs, the way he’d isolate me from friends by saying they were too loud, too different from him. But my inclination for perfection and pretty things had made my blind to it from the inside.

  “I met him at a coffee shop where I liked to work. Every time I saw him there, he was working too, so I knew we had that in common. That was where it started. He asked me about a self-help book I had in my bag and we bonded over our obsessions with work and bettering ourselves. I thought, how could I have found someone so perfect for me when I wasn’t even looking? He checked off all the boxes.”

  Theo inclined his head, like he knew what would happen next.

  “I don’t know when it started. Maybe with comments about the way I dressed. I wear things that flatter my body type, and he would ask if I really wanted to wear something that showed off my hips, or emphasized my chest. When I ordered at restaurants, he’d remind me of all the ways I’d already indulged that week. When I had a stressful day and just wanted a face mask and a bubble bath, he’d ask why I wasn’t taking advantage of the weather to ‘walk it off.’ It sounds obvious now, but I guess he balanced the criticism with all our commonalities. I just assumed that was one of his flaws. When you love someone, you’re supposed to embrace those things.

  “Whenever I worked late he would grill me with questions when I returned to the apartment. He’d ask me why I bothered working so hard for a blog. The things we’d bonded over began to tear us apart.”

  I could’ve gone further and mentioned how he’d only wanted to be intimate when the lights were off, “to set the mood,” he’d say. I often spoke with clients about the signs of unhealthy relationships, so how had I not been able to realize I was living in one?

  Theo scratched his jaw. “Have you ever considered that maybe you intimidated him?”

  I snorted in answer.

  “Hear me out. It sounds like he saw a lot in you that he wanted for himself. Things he latched onto. Initiative, tenacity, an exciting career. And when he couldn’t keep up or ascend to your level, he tried to tear you down to his.”

  “I doubt it. He was successful, intelligent. Why would he tear me down for aspiring to be the same?”

  “People put up fronts all the time. Maybe he realized you’d find out eventually he wasn’t what you thought he was, and he got desperate. Yeah, he was an asshole, but he was also insecure. And my guess is he never had a problem with your appearance, that was just something he targeted when all else failed.”

  He tapped his index finger on the tabletop between us. “You were the metaphorical punching bag of a very damaged human, and you allowing that to affect you now means he succeeded. That dickhead wouldn’t have any power if you didn’t give him any. Take it back from him.”

  I swallowed the lump that’d taken up residence in my throat. It was hard to face all the ways I’d fallen short, all the ways I was still falling short. “Can we talk about something else now?”

  “Hey.” When I didn’t look up, Theo intercepted my hand. “I’m not trying to point out what you should’ve done differently. I just want to show you how the things you perceive as faults are things someone else might covet.”

  “Someone like you?” I challenged, and when I finally met his gaze, I saw his was earnest. Urging.

  “Yes. I see you, and I see ambition. I see drive. I see everything that guy wanted to make you ashamed of. I see those hips and that ass and count my lucky stars that you let me grab onto them occasionally.” His sincere tone was interlaced with humor, lightening the mood, and I bit my lip. “And if you really wanted to live off salads or tone up at the gym, I’d say good for you. But do it because it makes you feel strong, and powerful, and not because you want to fit into the mold someone else made for you.”

  I blinked a few times and inhaled slowly, because damn. I was kind of thinking this man came from a mold, but not one I’d made; never in my wildest dreams would I have been able to think someone like Theo Hartley into existence.

  “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

  “I’m thinking I’m going to shred that Hubby List when we get back to my place,” I said, taking a sip of water and crunching on the ice. “And I’m thinking my place sounds like a pretty good idea right now.”

  Theo rolled his lips together, his gaze darkening. “I wholeheartedly agree. But we have to get out on that floor one last time. We need to take your picture.”

  Theo

  “Holy hell, you weren’t kidding when you said dancing was a workout. My whole body hurts,” Ava said as I followed her into her bedroom.

  “The second or third day of recovery is always the worst. But after that, smooth sailing.” I kissed her and then ran a thumb over her bee-stung lips. I couldn’t get enough of them. With a smile that was drunken, but not from alcohol, she fell backward onto her bed.

  “If you know so much, you’ll tell me how I can remedy this.”

  I grabbed one of her feet and tugged on the heel of her boot. It wasn’t easy to take off a new pair after a night out. Her feet were probably swollen, and the new leather didn’t have much give. I dropped the first boot on the floor and then went for the other, smiling to myself when I thought about our eventful evening.

  My ex-fiancée wouldn’t have been caught dead at a place like that. I tried not to compare her to Ava, but it was hard not to. We’d almost been married; I’d poured my heart into her and her dreams. And then she did what she did. Maybe it was spite that made me look at Ava and tally up all the ways she was better than Quinn. But, when it came down to it, Ava had given me something Quinn couldn’t.

  Maybe to her it was only dancing, but she’d made me feel like I was enough. The way she’d been willing to learn, allowing me to guide her instead of voicing my shortcomings and correcting me around every turn. I was probably overthinking it.

  “Geez, what would I have done without you?” Ava said when I nearly yanked her off the bed, shaking me from my reverie. I dropped the other boot and noted the way she was looking at me. I’d been lost in my thoughts, somewhere far away, but I couldn’t tell if she’d noticed.

  “Your feet are probably a little swollen. They make boot jacks for that, but you shouldn’t need them.”

  “Why not?” She rose onto her elbows.

  “Because I’ll be here. Unless you’re thinking of going two-stepping without me.”

  “Hmm. . .” She tapped her chin with a finger, and I placed my forearms on either side of her shoulders. My lips on her neck derailed any potential retorts.

  “Before you say something smart, remember, I’m supposed to be remedying this.” I dragged the strap of her tank-top aside and kissed along her collarbone.

  “Remedying what?”

  “Your whole body hurting.” My focus had gone to the buttons of her top, the ones I’d imagined undoing earlier, but there was something I wanted more. “Be right back.”

  I pushed to standing and went into the bathroom, flicking on the lights as I went. In place of the glassed-in shower I had at my place was a bathtub. Nothing special, at least in my eyes, but she’d mentioned it enough to indicate she spent a lot of time here. I switched it on, and then I was faced by a row of glass jars filled with all sorts of . . . well, I couldn’t tell you what the hell they were. Colorful balls and stuff that looked like rock-candy.

  I heard a rustle behind me. “Am I right in assuming all this is for the bath?” I asked. She was suppressing a smile when I turned around.

  “You are.”

  “Oh. What do you do with them? Like, scrub yourself, or. . .?” I mimed scrubbing my armpits and she pressed her lips together.

  “Definitely not.”

  “You know, I think I’m a somewhat-intelligent guy, generally speaking, but this is blowing my mind.”

  “Speaking of blowing your mind, you should drop one of those in the water.” She gestured to the jar of pastel balls. I did as she suggested, and I didn’t know what I�
��d expected, but the fizzing and spinning once it submerged wasn’t it.

  “Get this, some of them have glitter.” She grabbed towels from the cabinet and dropped them beside the tub.

  “Sounds like a disaster.”

  “It is. You’d have glitter in crevices you didn’t know existed.”

  “I can assure you, I know they exist.” I grinned, sitting on the edge of the tub. “It would be better if you had Epsom salts, but this pink shit’ll have to do.”

  Her laugh came out as a snort. She was moving around the bathroom, lighting a row of little candles beside her sink, doing things on autopilot like it was routine. “I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about that ‘pink shit,’ being so,” she gestured toward my jeans and boots, “rugged.”

  “You think I’m rugged?”

  “A Texas guy who owns a gym and used to live on a ranch? A little bit.” She dropped the lighter in a drawer and faced me. Gone was the hesitant woman I’d taught to dance earlier. I was in her territory, and the look in her eyes was bold, daring.

  I stood and approached her slowly. “Let’s be clear about something, though. I’m not some knuckle-dragging caveman,” I said, lowering my tone. “I know how to treat a woman.”

  She raised her chin. “Do you?”

  “I think I proved that the other night.”

  “Cocky.”

  “Confident.” I leaned closer, but instead of kissing her right away, I reached past to switch off the lights, casting us in darkness. Candlelight flickered in her eyes, turning navy-blue to coal and amber; matching the burning I felt inside my chest.

  Dating someone, hooking up—those things weren’t new territory. This feeling was, though.

  We were facing off in the candlelight, each of us daring the other to move first. Most would bet on me.

  Holding my gaze, almost defiantly, Ava pulled the hem of her tank-top from her shorts and dragged it over her head, buttons be damned. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

  Her shorts were next. She unbuttoned them and then hooked her thumbs in the waist, dragging them over her hips and catching her panties with them. The journey she made down her legs was agonizingly slow, but there was no rush. There was a sweetness in the wait. Unlike the first time, she was doing all this in front of me without making a move to cover herself. After her bra joined the rest of her outfit on the floor, I was on the verge of reaching for her, but she walked around me.

  She stepped into the pink-tinged water and sat, settling back against one end. “Cocky,” she repeated, raising a brow.

  Well, now I knew where I stood. Check-fucking-mate. We were doing this on her terms tonight.

  I stumbled a little, kicking off my boots. “Cocky is talking the talk. Confidence is knowing you can back it up.”

  I unbuttoned my shirt and shouldered out of it, and if I wanted to put up a cool front, yanking off my socks and jeans probably wasn’t the way to do it. But I did it anyway because screw the cool persona. She was in that bathtub with nothing but the water around her, and she was waiting for me.

  Just before ditching my briefs, our eyes locked. Her façade was gone too, but whatever replaced it wasn’t like the strong but shallow flickers of lust I’d seen there in past weeks. That gaze followed the path my briefs made to the floor and stayed on me until I joined her.

  I doubted the thing was ever meant for two full-size humans, but it was too late. We were making this work if it was the last thing I did. I stretched my legs as far as they’d go, on either side of hers. Which meant my knees were bent almost to my chin.

  “I hope pink is your color,” she said.

  I glanced at the water as an afterthought. “This stuff doesn’t stain, does it?”

  “No, but I do think you’d look smashing in blush.”

  Speaking of blush, I wanted to see hers again. I found her calves beneath the water and traced the curve of them upward. With my hands cupping the delicate hollows of her knees, I tugged her forward. “It’d go perfect with my eyes, wouldn’t it?”

  She bit her lip while I guided her calves on either side of my hips. “I never took you for the speechless type,” I murmured.

  “I have plenty to say. . .” It sounded like her breath had caught somewhere in her throat. Her eyes flicked to my mouth, maybe having something to do with me wetting my lips.

  “But. . .”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “But, I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

  Water ran in rivulets down her heat-flushed skin when I ran my hands around the back of her neck. It was hard to understand how she still doubted herself when I clearly couldn’t stay away from her. You’d think it was obvious, the way I felt. “Nothing you say could ruin this.” I smirked, because the moment was already heavy, and my fail-safe was humor. “I am taking the first bath I’ve had in years.”

  I bent close enough so my lips grazed her ear when I said, “And I’m between your legs. I’m confident I’ve never been happier.” With that, I made my way to my destination, one of many I hoped to visit tonight. I took her mouth with mine and teased her lips with my tongue. She parted them for me, angling her head to deepen the kiss.

  The other ones had been nice, don’t get me wrong, but this one was something else. Something darker.

  Water sloshed as she rose onto her knees and shifted completely into my lap. She paused for just a second and glanced over the edge, maybe noticing how bathwater darkened the rug on the floor. Then she was back to kissing me, her tongue countering each move mine made, like flooding the apartment below hers wasn’t a concern. That possibility wasn’t completely out of the question; the way these things were built—

  The rest of my thoughts dissipated in a blink when she took me in both hands and ran them up my length. She tipped her head toward the jeans I’d shed earlier. It was quite a feat, focusing enough to adequately equip myself with a condom, and her sucking on my neck didn’t help. I managed, and our hurried breaths mixed until my mouth was on hers again and I was pressing inside her.

  And then my hand was between us, fingers working her over, and the waves might’ve been cresting the bathtub, but I don’t think either of us thought of that at all.

  Chapter 20

  Ava

  That night, after the dancing, things changed between Theo and me. In a good way. We started calling our outings dates instead of workout sessions and actually planning things together instead of coming up with excuses to go to each other’s apartments.

  Add in the night in the bathtub, and the others that followed, and I’d say great was an understatement.

  We were on our first double-date with Holland and Enzo two months later, when I found out about his birthday. He’d passed me his wallet and asked me to start a tab at the bar while he went to the restroom, and as soon as Theo was out of earshot, Holland swooped in.

  “I love him, have I told you that?”

  “Unfortunately, he’s already taken,” Enzo mumbled around a glass of bourbon, but she paid him no mind.

  “Me too. He’s seriously a breath of fresh air, as cringey as that sounds,” I said.

  Holland’s eyes grew so wide they were in danger of falling out. “Wait, you love him?”

  Heat crept up my neck when I registered my slip. “That’s . . . not what I meant.”

  “Or is it?”

  “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” Enzo again, with the skepticism.

  “Exactly.” I ordered our drinks and fished out Theo’s credit card. That’s when I saw his license. I smiled at the characteristic smirk in his photo—how was it possible to look that good under DMV lighting?—and bent to take a closer look. His birthday was in a month and a half.

  “Check this out, his birthday is coming up.” I pointed out the date to Holland.

  “Ooh, first birthday together. What are you going to get him? Oooh, or are you going to take a trip somewhere?”

  I frowned. “I have no idea.”

  “I think a certain t
hree-word, eight-letter phrase might do the trick.”

  “Holland!”

  “Pair that with a bottle of whiskey, and greeting him naked, and you’d hit the trifecta.”

  I looked to Enzo for support, but his lips sagged at the corners, and he shrugged. “She has a point. I don’t see any man being disappointed with that.”

  “Unless it’s far too soon for the L word, which it is.”

  “Says who?”

  I traded the bartender the credit card for our drinks, then we cut through clumps of football fans and snagged an empty table before I continued. “Says everyone. Besides, this is so new.”

  Holland pulled out her compact and inspected her long waves. “The only thing that’s new is you acknowledging it for what it is. This has been in the works for months.”

  “It has not.” She raised a brow over the top of her mirror. “Okay, maybe you’re right. I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

  “So you do love him.”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Do we have to figure this out right now?” Enzo interjected, before Holland shot him a look that said we, in fact, did.

  “This is important! Your first fling after heartbreak is one thing, but your first love? That’s a breakthrough.”

  “I just can’t help but feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Remember how we started—me trying to be less, well, me so I wouldn’t scare him off?”

  “That method might’ve been your ‘in,’ but you grew something real from that. And you can’t honestly tell me you two are all that different. From what you’ve told me, you laugh all the time when you’re with him, and your sex life is bomb.”

  Enzo cleared his throat and appeared to have a neck spasm, which I took to mean Theo was approaching.

  “Sorry, the bathroom line was crazy,” Theo said, cutting in. I handed him his beer, and he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Did I hear something about a bomb?”