The Player's Game

The Player's Game

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Jul 10, 2016
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Fiction
Romance
He pulled me into him nearly an inch away from his plump lips and my breath drew thin. he leaned down to my neck and his sweet voice lingered in my ear "Who's winning now?" I looked up into his dark brown eyes and mimicked his play-boy smirk. In the back of my mind I desperately wanted to pull him in and make him want me the way I did him, but I couldn't let him win. I leaned into his face brushing my lips across his and whispered slow, "I am". As soon as the words left my mouth I unlocked my hands from his shoulder and walked away. I found a seat on the couch and laughed turning on the television. I looked back at him to see him oddly surprised at my action. I smiled and heard him whisper under his breath "you're too hard" he took a seat next to me and we watched four episodes of The Fosters until I realized my eyes were slowly closing and soon I was asleep on blake's chest. "Goodnight, Rebecca"
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rebecca
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There's this silence between us that stretches longer than it should, and it wraps around my chest like a weighted blanket. My throat tightens. I stare at him like I'm trying to memorise the face of someone who shouldn't exist. A dream made real. My lips part before I can stop myself. "Were you sent by my dad to take care of me?" The question hangs in the air, trembling like the last leaf in autumn. Aiden's gaze softens. His lips tug into the gentlest smile I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that could mend broken wings. "No" he whispers. "I volunteered." The words hit harder than I expect. Like a punch wrapped in silk. I gasp, air leaves me in a rush I can't reclaim. But before I can fully process what he's just said, he takes a step closer. His fingers ghost over my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn't realise had fallen. And then-he kisses me painfully slow. His hand cups the back of my neck, anchoring me to a moment I never want to end. And just when I think it's over, he pulls away just enough to look at me. His thumb traces the damp trail of tears down my cheek. He doesn't say anything. He just leans in again, and kisses them away. One by one. My tears. My pain. My silence. All kissed away by a boy who didn't come to save me because someone sent him. He came because he chose to.

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