The Player Game

Chapter 12

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“Why is Aaron following you around everywhere?” Micky asks sceptically, narrowing his eyes at the approaching figure.

“For the hundredth time, Micky,” I whisper, sighing loudly as I squeeze between two a locker and a group of people.  “He’s walking me to my classes,” I repeat, feeling my patience sliding gradually away.

I haven’t had the confidence to tell him about my run-in with the group of guys a few days before, nor do I think I ever will.  Instead, I have resorted to feeding him the half-truth that Aaron has decided to walk me to my classes – true – because of he enjoys stalking and annoying me – false.

“Why can’t I walk you to class?” he asks glumly.

“You are walking me to class,” I point out, shrugging my satchel higher up my shoulder and running a hand through my hair to make sure I look presentable before Aaron gets closer.

“Oh yeah,” he replies dumbly.  “Well, I’m having you all to myself tonight for our movie marathon.”  Bumping hips with me to lighten the mood, I can’t help but return the cute grin he’s giving me.  However much we annoy each other, we’re still going to be best friends.  “See you later.”  He grins, before disappearing into a nearby classroom.

“Hey Emi,” a low voice says, before a pair of warm arms wrap around me tightly.

“Hey Sex God,” I reply, my voice muffled in his blazer as I squeeze him back.  “What’s up?” I ask sociably, pulling away and looking up at him.

He smirks, draping an arm over my shoulders and guiding me down the corridor.  The usual jealous stares from the girls and curious glances from the boys commence as we walk past.  Doing my best to ignore the looks, I focus my gaze on his lips as they move.

“Nothing much.  Just making sure you’re not gang raped again,” he teases, shooting a sly wink in my direction as we round a corner.

I huff loudly, shrugging away his arm and scooting across the corridor away from him.  “I wasn’t gang raped,” I state, scowling at his statement.  I don’t have to be scared of being overhead here, due to the fact that Aaron and I are the only ones in this abandoned corridor.

“You might have been if I didn’t show up,” he insists, side-stepping so that we’re walking alongside again.  As much as I hate to admit it, Aaron is correct as usual. I watch him from the corner of my eye, keeping up a grumpy façade.

“Whatever,” I mumble, avoiding eye contact.  When I do look back, I’m surprised to see the mischievous smile on his face.

“You’re cute when you pout.”  Moving closer, he uses his thumb and fingers to pinch my cheeks, wobbling them like an old grandma greeting her grandchildren.  I feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I stop in my tracks, my back hitting the block of lockers.

“Aaron-” I protest, attempting to slap his hands away from my face.

“Awh!  You’re even cuter when you blush!” he interrupts, making baby noises as he continues to pinch my cheeks.

“Stop it!” I whine, this time pushing his chest in a feeble attempt to stop his nonsense.  “You’re so childish,” I complain when his rock-hard chest doesn’t budge a centimetre.