The Games We Play

5. Four - Tess

Four - Tess

“What the fuck happened?” I groan and roll over to my side. Daylight pours through my bedroom window, and I squint, glancing around my room.

My room .

Did I do something stronger than my usual last night? My head feels like a fucking bowling ball is bouncing off my skull. Roxy jumps up into my bed, unaware of what a hangover feels like, and licks me in the face.

“Weird fucking dream…” I fall back into my pillow and place my forearm over my eyes. I drank way too much and must have passed out. I’m surprised I got myself to bed. Whipping the covers back, I notice I’m wearing a silk tank and matching shorts.

Okay ? Drunk me, got myself to bed, and changed my clothes ?

Roxy barks at me, and I groan. “Rox, not so loud.” She whines once, then jumps down, waiting for me to follow. I reach for my nightstand, for my phone, but my hand lands on a piece of paper atop the empty charging plate .

I’ll be watching you , Puppet .

I bring the paper closer and read it over ten times. My breaths quicken, and I glance around my room for any other sign that last night wasn’t a dream and was actually very real. I jump from my bed and quickly pick my feet up at the odd sensation under them. Sitting on the bed, I cross my legs and inspect the bandages on each arch. Patches of blood have soaked through, and I cringe at the memory of stepping on something sharp in the woods.

I was running…from him. And he got into my house. He found me.

I rush to the basement door and jiggle the handle, making sure the key is where it belongs. My fingers graze the metal atop the frame, and the knob is locked like it always is. Everything is as it should be.

The last thing I remember was hiding from him. Did he find me? Change my clothes? Did I pass out?

I try to convince myself that drunk me also wrote a fucking note that, at the time, I thought would be a funny joke. I know better, though.

Roxy barks again, and I hiss at her to hush. My muddled brain tries to make sense of everything that happened—or may not have happened. I carefully check the rest of the house. The television is on but muted. I find my phone on the couch and have five missed calls from Ryan.

I feel like it was an out-of-body experiment. I could have smoked something laced and had a really, really bad trip. A knock sounds on the door, and I jump, grabbing the lamp nearest to me and pulling the plug from the wall. Roxy whines and scratches at the door, and I hold the handle.

One, Two, I rip the door back and lift the lamp over my head.

“What the hell?” Ryan stumbles back, raising his arm in defense of his perfect jawline. I lower the lamp and scan the yard for anyone else that could be lurking. His note said he’d be watching me, and I don’t doubt it. “Tess?” He steps into my view and pulls the lamp from my hold. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…the uh, bulb blew, and I was going to change it.”

He arches his brow and glances at the lamp. “You needed the whole lamp to change a bulb?”

“Yup,” I pop the P and grab Roxy’s leash off the hook. “I need to take Roxy out.” I’m aware of Ryan watching me, but he’s not the cause of my hair standing on end.

I constantly scan the streets and other houses for a lurking masked fiend. Ryan wouldn’t believe me if I told him. Or he’d say I asked for it with the way I’ve been acting and just tell me for the hundredth time that therapy could really help.

Well, excuse me if I don’t want to sit and tell someone about my feelings and all the ways I know I’m fucked up. Roxy is quick to do her business and I find Ryan plugging my lamp back in and turning it on.

“Your bulb seems fine. Could be a loose wire,” he offers with a shrug.

“Oh. Great.” I stand with my arms folded and shifting my weight.

“So, were you getting ready, or are you wearing that?”

“Hmm?” I glance at my satin tank that does little to hide my hardened nipples and lands above my belly button. Ryan seems to notice too. His gaze locks on my chest, and I move my folded arms higher to block his view.

He clears his throat. “The homecoming party? We were supposed to go out to eat beforehand?”

I take in his attire for the first time. Unlike my pathetic excuse of a human vessel, Ryan is on the college football team and is always dressed to kill. He’s popular and invited to all the parties. Where he usually brings his lame best friend, whom he refuses to give up on.

Me.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Almost five. Are you feeling okay? Are you sick? You don’t look so good.”

“Thanks, Prince Charming, that’s what all the girls want to hear,” I quip. Although the humor I’m trying to fake doesn’t portray in my voice. I slept all day. And the more I think back on it, what happened last night is very real. “Let me go get ready. I’ll be back down in thirty.”

“Girl, math means two hours,” Ryan sighs and plops on the couch. He finds something to hold his interest on the television, and I take the steps two at a time.

The handwritten note remains on the table, and I snatch it off, crumple it, and throw it in the trash. The hot water from the shower soaks the bandages off, and I’m surprised to find butterfly strips on two of the deeper cuts.

First, he chases me and threatens me, but at the end of the night, he tucks me in and takes care of me? What in the actual fuck…is happening?

***

Just to prove Ryan wrong, I’m ready in an hour and a half. The shower did little to help my hangover, but once we got to Ryan’s frat house, it was nothing a red solo cup couldn’t cure .

I’ve drunk half the cup, my headache subsiding, when someone grabs it from my mouth and pulls it away. “Hey,” I whine. Ryan forces a slice of pizza at me, and I grimace.

“We both know you haven’t eaten today, and before you put more booze in your system, you need something substantial.”

I take a very unladylike bite of the cheesy slice and nearly swallow it whole before ripping my cup from his hands. “Happy?” I say around the mouthful.

“No,” he deadpans and forces another bite on me, and I end up eating the entire piece. I won’t admit it aloud, but he is right. I know that. I just can’t bring myself to care.

Several girls come over and dance around Ryan, clearly hoping tonight is the night he ditches his mess of a best friend and gives one of them a chance. I retreat to the wall, just like every time he forces me to come to one of these things and people watch. My nerves are shot, constantly scanning the room for a familiar mask. Or what if he comes back tonight? I left Roxy—not like the man scared her. Would he be waiting for me when I got home?

“I found you.”

I jump at the voice to my right and look up to find Seth smiling down at me. His hair is plastered to his forehead, and his sweaty shirt clings to his body. He’s not as ripped as my visitor last night, and his hands aren’t as large. He couldn’t be him…could he?

Am I seriously comparing the guy I’ve been crushing on for the past year to a stranger?

“What?” I blurt, not remembering what he said.

He dips his head closer so his lips brush against my hair. “I got your text last night.”

I think back through the haze of what I sent. I remember messaging him, but what did I say?

“Oh, yeah?” I try to play it off. Then I remember. I asked if he wanted to hang out, come over and watch a movie, or go eat. How lame could I possibly be?

“Want to go somewhere quieter?”

I glance around and spot Ryan staring at us. A girl humps his leg. At least, that’s what it looks like she is doing. Seth runs his hand down my shoulder and grabs my hand. Before we make it to the steps, he is pulled back and spun away from me.

Ryan drops his hands to his sides in fists.

“What’s your problem, Collins?” Seth shouts.

“She’s drunk and not going to be another notch for you to check off.”

“I am not,” I defend, but I have to blink several times to bring the my-dick-is-bigger-match into focus.

“What is it with you and Tess? You could have any girl on that floor, and you’re obsessed with this one. I’m going to find out if her pussy is that good to keep stringing you along.”

My cheeks heat, and I feel everyone in the room turn their attention to me. I’m thrown off balance when Seth’s body slams into me. I barely catch myself as Ryan tackles Seth to the ground. A flurry of punches and curse words. I’m forced back as a group of people crowd around, shouting and cheering on the testosterone battle.

Leave it to Ryan to cock-block me from the one person I’ve been trying to get with. I shove my way through the crowd, throwing elbows to get the larger football players to move aside. I was so close to feeling…something aside from this nagging emptiness.

Outside, I sit on the rock wall along the sidewalk in front of the house. The music from inside is loud enough to hear, and people mill around the yard. Someone pukes nearby, and I grimace at the sound.

The street is empty, and I imagine my masked man appearing out of nowhere. At least then, tonight might be interesting. I’d like to see Ryan try to run him off.

“Tess,” Ryan shouts, and I blatantly ignore him. He crouches in front of me, not a blemish on his perfect face. “What the hell was that?” he asks, his features still tinged with anger.

“Don’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “Just stop acting like my boyfriend. You aren’t! Why did you stop Seth? I was finally getting somewhere, and you had to ruin it!”

His eyes narrow at me. “You mean I stopped him from using you, then throwing you away like he does every other girl. God! What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t my best friend. It’s like you want to be treated like fucking trash.”

I glare at him. “I want to go home,” I state, not wanting to hear what else he has to say about my mental state. He’s right. I’m not the best friend he once knew. I haven’t been for a while. He just refuses to see it.