Worth It

Chapter Seven

Gabriel

"Dude, you actually suck."

"Dude, shut the hell up." I mocked her tone. "This game is rigged."

"It is not rigged. I scored twenty baskets out of twenty-two. You scored eight." She sputtered as she tried to hold in her laugh. "You succccck so bad." She sang.

"What's going on over here?" Opal asked. "Eight, Gabe? Really? You're embarrassing me in front of my friend's man." She shoved my arm jokingly.

"It's fucking rigged, O. Look at it," I exclaimed, gesturing my hands to the machine before me.

"Kat's side doesn't look rigged," Xavier pointed out from behind Kat.

He handed her a drink, and they clunked their cups together before she took a generous sip.

"All right, if you're so good at arcade games, let's see how well you play this game." I ushered her over to the boxing machine. "How well can you throw a punch, Kat?"

"Pretty well, but I am a little tipsy. This drink is pure fucking gin." She said, waving the cup in her hand.

"You tryna get out of it?" I taunted.

She rolled her sleeves over her arms in a silent way of telling me it was on. I swiped the arcade card, and the punching ball made an electronic hum as it came down. I reared my hand back and hit it as hard as I could.

It made a loud thudding noise, and the machine beeped as the number on the screen went up. They cheered loudly and over-enthusiastically as the number stopped at 877.

"Ready, Kat?"

She downed her drink and handed it to Xavier, who cheered her on as she came to where I was. I stood behind her, slid the game card once more, and felt her let out a shaky breath of air from how close we were standing.

I stepped back as the machine restarted so she could have her turn. I went to stand by Opal and watched her look back at us with an overconfident smile. Before she hit it, I saw her perfectly colored and shaped nails flick her hair over her shoulder.

I mentally groaned as I felt that little flip all the way down to my fucking cock. Despite all the time, we've spent as friends and how close we've gotten over the months, I still felt the same way I did when I first saw her.

That was a total fucking lie. I felt it a billion times more. I still wanted her. I wanted her pinned beneath me, riding me, on all fours on my bed, with my hands fisted in those locks she obliviously drives me crazy with as I fuck her to endless amounts of orgasms.

We were friends, talked almost daily on the phone, hung out on weekends, had drinks, and celebrated the holidays with Xavier and Opal. It was everyday things friends do, yet it was moments like these that I fucking craved to be more with her.

Unfortunately, she hasn't shown any interest. Nothing. Fucking nada. There were lingering stares if I wore a suit or if we met at the gym to work out, but other than that, zilch. She flirted with guys, sometimes in front of me.

Even though it fucking sucked, I had no say in her love life. I talked to girls occasionally on some apps, but nothing serious that could lead to dates or hooking up. If we hung out the four of us, the tension was lighter, sometimes barely noticeable, but when it was just us two.

Fuck.

Everything she did or said felt like foreplay. Every little thing, obvious or oblivious, had me hooked on her indefinitely. Sometimes the tension felt amatory, uncompromising.