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TWENTY-TWO
to play a game
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WE WERE ENGAGED in a game of sorts. Not one as intense and calculating as chess, per say, but a game nonetheless.
This game involved Isaiah's arm candy trying to discover how many glances she could sneak in my direction without making it blatantly obvious. It was almost similar to seeing how many licks it would take to get the center of a Tootsie Roll pop.
Only not as amusing, but rather more. . . annoying.
As most do when they oppose me in a game, she was losing.
Badly.
Of course, I had noticed her watching me the minute I entered the room. Not to be so self-absorbed, but I was usually aware of everything. At least, when I wanted to be.
Her two feline-esque brown eyes were boring into me with curiosity, indifference, and a hint of hostility. I could tell she felt threatened-she unconsciously inched closer to Isaiah, the legs of the elegant chair she sat in scraping the living room floor.
Her glances weren't subtle, furtive ones either. They were blatant and direct. I mean, at that point, my image must've been permanently ingrained in her mind.
I turned my head towards her. Meeting her gaze straight on, I stared back.
She shifted her gaze instantaneously, suddenly becoming focused on the side Isaiah's clean-shaven face.
I smirked.
Caved easily under pressure. Noted.
In actuality, the staring didn't bother me in the slightest. I was used to it-my height paired with my face often garnered awestruck gazes from people I passed by on the street.
I mean, who wasn't staring? When I had entered the room, Zeke's mom had planted two kisses on my face, raving about how I looked more stunning each time she saw me.
Granted, the last time she saw me was at the hospital following Zeke's overdose, and all of us looked like distraught messes. But that was beside the point.
Isaiah's jaw hit the floor when I swept into the living room on Dean's arm, Rosie's eyes widened slightly, and Giselle smiled with pride at her hard work. Tristan has simply looked pissed that I didn't wear a jacket to cover my chest like he had forcefully suggested.
I laughed in his face when he brought it up before he left the house.
Currently, we were all conversing in the living room as Zeke's mother prepared the dinner alongside their cleaning-slash-cooking lady. She had refused our assistance and firmly suggested that we sit down and enjoy the cheese and crackers she left out as appetizers for us.
