The Games We Play

7. Six - Tess

Six - Tess

Like after every time we fight, Ryan texts me the next day to check on me and offers to take me out to eat. It’s his peace offering, so we can push everything that was said under our proverbial rug. My stranger didn’t come last night, and I’m beginning to think that I really imagined the entire thing. Some vivid dream my subconscious conjured.

I sit across from him in the booth. Apparently, Seth got in one good hit. There’s slight bruising along Ryan’s jaw, somewhat shadowed by his slight stubble. He runs a tired hand over his face and sighs.

“I ordered both of us the deluxe,” he says.

“Thanks.” The deluxe is the largest meal on the diner’s breakfast menu, and he knows I’ll eat every bite.

“Figured you could use a proper meal.” He flashes me a soft smile, and I return the gesture.

Awkward silence stretches between us, and we scroll through our phones until the food arrives. Ryan shovels his meal in and finishes before me. He drinks his third soda and then stands from the booth .

“I’ll be right back.” He doesn’t wait for me to acknowledge him and heads toward the back of the diner, where the restrooms are. I pick at my eggs and hash browns, counting down the minutes to when Ryan returns, and he tries to coax me into having the therapy talk, just like every other time. He’s like clockwork. When I glance out the large window to my side, my fork clatters to my plate.

He’s standing beside Ryan’s car. His hood covers his face, but the way my body reacts tells me it’s the man who visited me at my house. The hair on my arm raises as he stands, staring right at me.

My masked stranger.

I track his movements, sliding to the edge of the booth seat as he disappears around the back of the diner. I push up from my seat and weave around the waitress carrying a tray full of food, nearly knocking it over, gaining some crazed looks. Pushing through the door that leads to the bathrooms and emergency exit, I finally reach the back of the diner when I nearly run into Ryan as he steps out of the bathroom.

“Tess? What are you doing?”

I can barely hear him over the pounding in my chest. I stare past him at the emergency exit, waiting for it to open, for someone to knock…for something. But Ryan is the only person there.

“Did anyone else go into the bathroom?”

Ryan looks over his shoulder and back at me. “No? Why?”

Am I going crazy ?

I shake my head and back up. “Nothing. Never mind. Are you ready to go?”

“Are you sure--?”

“Yeah. I have to study for class tomorrow and have work tonight.”

Ryan pays for our food and drives me back to my house. He offers to stay and have a study session, but I need to clean my house before I can sit down and study. His help is never how I’d do it, and leads to me cleaning twice.

When I’m finished, I sit down with a glass of water, my textbooks, and my laptop at my small dining room table and crank through the reading we were assigned over the weekend.

I check my online portal for any other assignments or messages from my professors. There’s a reminder for a test tomorrow morning in my English class, and I groan.

I forgot all about that test and haven’t even studied yet. I mentally prepare myself for an all night of studying after my shift at the diner.

Graduating from college and getting my degree is something I’m doing for myself. Not because Dad ordered me to or even that it’s expected of me. I want it. I want my name on that piece of paper, knowing I did it all on my own.

But on nights like tonight, I debate, just throwing in the towel and focusing on the life Dad wants for me.

A fire ignites in my soul, and I grit my teeth.

Settling in my chair, I grab my notebook and forcefully flip my textbook to the correct chapter.

No . Dad doesn’t control this part of my life. I won’t let him.

***

I stare at my business management textbook, but instead of focusing on the words in front of me, a masked man is crawling up my torso, and his hand dips between my thighs. My pen cracks between my teeth, and I pull it back, examining the broken plastic.

“Shit,” I mutter. That’s my third one today .

“Hey, you,” Ryan says as he sits beside me. “How was your test this morning?”

“Fine.” I mindlessly flip the page to show Supply Chain in bold letters. Seth is also in my English class. That saying ‘you should have seen the other guy’; well, the other guy is Seth. I didn’t know Ryan could be so ruthless; his glare proved he blamed it all on me.

“Do you think you passed?” he presses.

“I don’t know, I—” my words are cut off as someone’s shadows cast over us. For the second I take to turn my head and look up, I picture a masked man looming over me.

“Ms. Wallace,” Professor Brady, my English instructor, says my name with a slow drawl. “Come with me.” He takes a few steps back to give me space, and I pull my purse across my body and close my book.

“I thought you said it went fine,” Ryan whispers, and I shrug.

I’m not saying I got an A, but I’m confident I didn’t bomb it. I follow Professor Brady until we reach his office. Another girl from my class, Casey Driskel, sits on the bench outside his office door. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying.

“Professor Brady, I was hoping I could talk to you about how I could improve my grade?” she says eagerly as she pushes to her feet.

“Miss Driskel,” he draws her name out and wets his lips. “Wait here, and I will get with you right after, Miss Wallace.” He holds the door open for me to enter, and I internally cringe at her large, doll-like eyes looking up at him.

We step inside, and the door clicks close behind me .

“Sit.” Professor Brady waves a hand at the two empty chairs before me. “Tess,” he whispers as he sits behind his metal desk. “Do you know why you’re here?”

I glance around the room like the answer will be plastered on the wall. “Should I?”

He sighs and leans back in his chair, his hands clasped at his waist. “I don’t tolerate cheating in my class. Some professors may turn a blind eye, but I withhold honor in my classroom.”

“Of course,” I state, still unsure what this has to do with me. He opens a folder and slides a paper toward me.

It’s a test with an eighty-six written across the top and my name beside it. “My test?”

He slides me a second piece of paper, and I pick it up. The name has been whited out, but I swear if I squint, I make out an S.

“And this is a classmate of yours.” He pauses and inhales deeply. “A classmate that claims they caught you copying their answers.”

“What? I stayed up all night studying for this test. I didn’t cheat off anyone, especially Seth.” My cheeks heat with the accusation.

“I never said it was Seth.” He arches his brow like I just damned myself.

“He’s pissed because he got the crap beat out of him at a party after trying to fuck me. He’s lying.” I shoot to my feet and pace the floor, my bag slipping off my shoulder, and I jerk it back up.

“I’ll remind you where we are, and you will watch what you say. I’m not turning you into the dean. I wanted to see if we could come to an understanding—”

I snort, cutting him off. Professor Brady has a reputation. Rumors floated around last year about him getting caught with a student. She surprisingly transferred schools after that, and nothing ever came from it.

“I’m proposing you retake the test in my office, and I’ll sit right here while you do.”

“Perfect. Let’s go. Right now.” I say and plop down on the chair. I am going to kill Ryan for putting me through this. Why did he have to blow up at the party? I could have got a good fuck, and that be the end of it. Instead, I’m in this room with Beady-Eyed-Brady, whose stare lingers on my chest too long.

“Unfortunately, I need to prepare an entirely new test for you. Instead of fifty questions, it will be one hundred. I advise that you actually study this time.”

“This isn’t fair!” I jump up, and my chair falls back. I grab my books and whirl for the door.

“Ms. Wallace,” he says sternly, and I flip him the middle finger before striding down the hallway.

I’m going to kick Ryan in the dick when I find him. I walk the mile-long distance to my parked car and slam my door closed before screaming at my windshield.

Seth. Fucking. Wilson.

Why is he punishing me? I didn’t do anything.

The wind blows, and something flutters under my wiper blade. I start my car and roll the window down, reaching around and grabbing it.

A parking ticket is the only thing this shitty day needs to top it off.

I flip the paper over, and my heart stops.

Not a parking ticket.

For when you’re ready to pick up where we left off .

I flip it back over, and there is a phone number scrawled on the bottom of the paper. I search the parking lot for a sign of anyone watching me.

He was here. This isn’t a lucid dream. This paper proves that. He’s real, and there’s a phone number. I read and reread it until I’m pretty sure I have it memorized.

If life is going to fuck me, maybe it’s time to get some real action.

I type the phone number into the search bar, seeing if I can unmask my visitor. Oddly, I don’t feel threatened by him. He hasn’t done the first thing to hurt me.

I toy with the paper in my hand and chew on the inside of my lip. Pulling a cigarette from my center console, I light it and inhale deeply, relishing in the smoke that fills my lungs and the buzz that stirs in my mind. My nerves calm, and I lean back into my seat.

“Fuck it.”

I dial the number and put it on speaker, eyes scanning the other cars to see if anyone pops into view. It rings three times, and I move my thumb to hang up, losing what courage the nicotine worked up.

“Hello?” His voice is deep like it’s laced with sleep.

I stare at the phone in my hand and have to shake my head to clear my thoughts. “I got your note,” I whisper.

Something rustles from the other end, and I continue scanning my surroundings.

“And?” he drawls, causing me to shiver. “Use your words.”

“Who are you?” I question—doubts about what I’m currently doing creep in.

“That’s not why you called.”

My knee bounces, shaking my entire car. I smirk and bite on the edge of my bottom lip. This is such a bad idea. “Will I see you tonight? ”

“Do you want to see me tonight?”

“Yes,” I breathe out without a moment of hesitation. God, I feel like desperation and low self-esteem.

The phone clicks off, and my screen lights up. “Hello?” But he’s already hung up. I scoff and toss my phone onto the passenger seat. “Rude.”

***

My shift at the diner felt like it went on for hours. I spilled hot coffee down the front of my uniform with an hour left. The credit card machine stopped working, and the customers acted as if it was my fault.

I groan as the hot water cascades down my tight muscles. I’ve been on edge since the phone call earlier today. Not to mention, I got a nice email from Professor Brady telling me my retake would be this weekend in his office, alone . I swear if the fucker tries touching me, I’m stapling the skin between his thumb and forefinger to the wall.

I wrap a towel around my body and step out of the shower. After wiping the steam from the mirror, I check my phone—no texts from my masked man. A couple from Ryan asking why I’m ignoring him and I swipe those away. Not five minutes later, he’s calling me, and I groan as I answer, not wanting to risk him coming over and ruining the good time I have planned for tonight.

“What?” I snap.

“Why are you ignoring me? What happened with Professor Brady?” His tone is filled with worry .

“You are what happened. Thinking with your dick and getting into a fight with Seth. He claims I cheated off his test to get back at me, and now I have to retake the exam.”

“I’m going to kill--”

“No,” I cut him off. “You’re not going to do anything. I’m going to retake it tomorrow.”

With fifty extra questions .

“You can’t seriously be mad at me, Tess. I was protecting you. He was going to--”

“I know exactly what he was going to do, and I wanted it, Ryan. You aren’t my boyfriend. Stop acting like one.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and mentally curse myself for saying. “I’m sorry…I just--”

“Fuck whoever you want. Get chopped up into a million pieces. Get so high you can’t function. I’m tired of trying to look after you all the time.”

He hangs up, and I scream, throwing my phone onto my bed.

Why does he fucking care so much about what happens to me? I’m not worth it. He’d be better off cutting ties and moving on. I’m a parasite, leeching and draining the life of everything I touch. I just drag everyone down with me.

Ripping open my vanity drawer, the contents slide from the momentum, and I grab the pack of cigarettes. I pluck the hidden joint from the box and light it up, inhaling the smoke into my lungs. I want to stop feeling all of this. It’s all too much. Being a disappointment, letting Ryan down, and him hating me. My dad had to move to a different country and start a new family because he couldn’t stand being around here with me as a reminder of what he lost .

No matter how many times people tell you it’s not your fault or you couldn’t have done anything, it doesn’t change the fact that it happened. I take another drag and snuff it out in the ashtray.

It’s after ten, and I wonder how long until I get to lose myself tonight. Death stopped scaring me months ago. As they say, if I die tonight, at least I’ll die doing something I love …fucking.

A knock comes from the front door, and Roxy lets out a sharp bark. I smirk and glance at myself in the mirror. My hair hangs down below my breasts, dripping water onto the floor. There isn’t any secret about what will happen tonight, so I drop the towel and shove thoughts of shyness down until they don’t exist.

That’s the other scary thing about me. I can differentiate who I am when I turn off my emotions. It’s what makes me so good at pretending to be someone I’m not.

Opening the front door, I stand naked as the day I was born, with no reservations about what I’m about to do. Maybe he’ll show himself to me tonight, right before he takes my life. At least then, I won’t be a burden or someone people need to worry about anymore.