The Games We Play

17. Sixteen - Tess

Sixteen - Tess

The lights flick on as I pull on my leggings, and a blood-curdling scream echoes through the building, but I don’t take my focus off of X.

“I think they found your gift,” he says. “Time to go, Puppet.” He holds his hand out to me and slides my mask on before intertwining my fingers in his and leads me down a hidden tunnel away from the commotion.

I glance at my hand fitting perfectly in his. The small gesture sends electricity up my arm. We pick up our speed to a jog, and I laugh at the ridiculousness of us running through hidden tunnels, bound to each other by blood markings. I’ve never felt more alive, more seen…more accepted than I do at this moment.

X stops, and cracks open a door. He sticks his head out and checks before pulling me along behind him. We’re in the field where the cars are parked and have a clear view of the blue and red flashing strobe lights at the clown house in the distance .

“Baby girl,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice. “This is our secret.”

“Which part?” I tease. “The part where we’re fucking or the bodies I left back there?”

He chuckles. “Nobody can know about us.” His thumb runs under my mask and along my lips. I pull it into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it. “Hmm, so needy.”

He steps closer, and my body charges immediately. My nipples pebble, and pussy throbs, like contact with him alone lights me on fire. I just had this man, but you’d think I was a virgin who’d never been touched before.

“Tess!” a voice shouts and pulls us from the moment.

X kisses the back of my hand and disappears into the woods. I’m left standing and staring after him.

“Tess!” I turn to find Ryan sprinting in my direction.

Fuck . I forgot all about him .

His expression is full of terror, and he stops in front of me, the color draining from his face. “Is that you?” I arch my brows, and the mask adjusts on my face.

Oh , right .

I take it off, and he sucks in a breath. His arms wrap around me, and his shoulders quiver. “Thank fuck, when they said they found a body—I thought—”

Is he … crying ? I awkwardly lift my arms and pat his back.

“I’m fine,” I say, and he pulls back at arm’s length, keeping his hands on my shoulders.

“They went all out with the fake blood and makeup, didn’t they? ”

I glance down at myself and notice just how much of my clothing is now stained red. “Oh, um…yeah. It was crazy.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Ryan opens the passenger car door, and I look over my shoulder at where X disappeared.

How long until I see him again this time ? How long will he make me wait until I have him between my legs ?

***

“Tess!” Cookie, my manager, shouts over the sounds of the busy kitchen. “We have a group of five that just came in. Could you pick up another table? Janice said she’s tapped out.”

Gripping my serving tray a little tighter, I fight down all the vile things I want to spew about useless Janice. “I got it,” Sighing, I head out to my section on the opposite side of the restaurant. I’m good at my job. I connect easily with the customers, remember orders, and rarely make a mistake, which equals pretty large tips. Pair that with the skimpy uniforms we wear and a sports game, and I make bank.

Taking the empty serving tray back, I grab the numerous drinks that need refills before heading to my new table in a corner booth.

I cringe the moment I see who has occupied that space.

I’m going to kill Janice.

And for a second, I picture the life leaving her eyes, blood pooling around her body, and me delivering that killing blow. It would be…exhilarating.

Plastering on my fake smile that I’ve mastered over the years, I stop at the end of the table. Tori, captain of the bitch committee, glances up at me with an overly exaggerated saccharine smile. She was the last one of Seth’s flings, and now she’s surrounded by our other classmates—athletes who are more popular than me and all the male variety. Ryan would fit in with them if he didn’t socially sabotage himself with me.

Another thought hits me out of nowhere. Seth would be among them…if X hadn’t killed him. These were his friends. Do they miss him? Even care that he’s disappeared ?

Their gazes roam my outfit, which I’m used to by now. If I weren’t immune after two years, I would never be—shorts that are extremely too short and a slim tank top that leaves little to the imagination.

“Well, hello there,” the guy to my left with overly gelled hair says. Tori sits beside him, her hand sliding up his thigh, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or it’s all part of a game they’re playing. A guy with freckles dusting his cheeks sits in the middle of the group. I’m sure I’d know their names if I ever cared to pay attention, but I simply never did.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I’ll take Jack and Coke,” Gel-hair says with a smile.

“I’ll need your I.D.,” I say, holding out my hand and glancing at the table, waiting for the other four to give me their order. “And?”

They sound off their drinks, Gel-Hair being the only one ordering alcohol. By the time I reach the one in glasses on my right, he’s pulled his I.D. from his wallet.

Jackson Henry. I hold back my snort. That’s an unfortunate name. I recognize him now. He’s on the basketball team and gets by on his charm with the teachers.

Typical.

“Thanks.” I extend my arm, but instead of taking his card, his fingers brush my skin, caressing the back of my hand .

“You’re very welcome, Tess.”

The hairs on my arm raise, and I jerk my hand away, causing his I.D. to fall to the floor. He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle, and Tori rolls her eyes, crossing her legs and angling her body away from Jackson.

“Why don’t you bend down, real slow, and pick that up for me?” Jackson asks. I stare at him and his friends, but they all watch me expectantly.

“Dude, leave her alone. She isn’t worth it,” the one with glasses grumbles.

What the fuck does he know about me and my worth ? Heat sizzles under my skin, and I know my cheeks turn red.

“No need to be embarrassed. Seth told us how needy you were. Now that he’s gone, I can make sure you’re fully satisfied. Unlike Seth, I won’t let Ryan get the best of me.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” I say through gritted teeth, but I swallow my dignity because this job is the one thing I can call my own. I got it myself. The money I make, I earn. Nobody handed this to me, and that matters. Bending down, I grasp the card between my finger and thumb, fully aware of their stretched necks so they can see down my tank top and the cusp of my ass sticking out of my shorts.

I stand and hold the card out to Jackson. This time, he takes it with a proud smile. Leaving their table to get their drinks, I don’t miss the low whistle as I walk away.

I find Janice leaning against the wall in the kitchen, her manicured nails tapping away on her cell phone. “I can’t believe this.”

“You’re blocking the soda,” I state, and she looks at me like I just slapped her.

“I’m having a crisis. Can’t you see that? God, am I just invisible to everyone? ”

“What? Did your favorite clothing store go out of business?” She steps aside, and I grab my table’s drink order.

“Not funny! And no. Joe just said we needed to talk and then ghosted me. Do you know what this means?” Her voice raises in pitch. I balance the drinks on my tray and carefully maneuver around her.

“That he needs to talk.” I shrug.

“Clearly, he is breaking up with me! And right before Thanksgiving! My parents think he is coming. I can’t just show up like a single loser!” She shoves her phone inside the elastics of her shorts since there isn’t enough fabric for pockets. “I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

“Wait! You have tables!” I shout as she disappears out the back door. “Fuck!”

I collect myself, grab Jackson’s drink from the bar, and take the tray of fountain drinks to their table. The eyes of other customers watch me as I stride across the restaurant.

“Miss?” A customer from Janice’s section stops me. “Could you find our waitress? We need more drinks?”

“Yes, of course,” I say and pick up my pace to Jackson’s heated gaze.

“Bout time,” he complains. I hand out the drinks and grip the tray under my arm.

“Sorry, are you ready to order?”

I get halfway through their order when Jackson takes a drink of his beverage and makes a disgusted face. “This tastes like garbage. The bar’s Jacks and Cokes are so much better.”

“Maybe you should try their dinner specials,” I say and bite the inside of my cheek when it registers. Shit , if they ask for my manager , I’m totally fucked .

To my surprise, Jackson laughs, and my cheeks heat. “Maybe you should come with me tonight. We could dance, drink, find somewhere quiet…”

If only he knew just how dismembered he’d be if X knew of what he was merely thinking.

“Pass,” I deadpan and leave to get the rest of their food order. I’m stopped by two more of Janice’s tables on the way to the kitchen. The doors swing closed, and Cookie springs for her attack.

“What the hell is going on out there?” she demands.

“Janice walked out. Like just now. Her tables are antsy and need assistance. Several have asked for drink refills, but I have mine plus the extra booth of five. I can’t do it all.”

Cookie’s features turn a shade darker, and she grabs for a notepad and pen. “I don’t get paid enough for this,” she grumbles.

“More than me,” I mumble after she walks away.

I make my rounds at my tables, passing out their checks and making sure everyone is satisfied. I get Jackson and his friends’ food and smile when everything is as it should be, minus how he watches me like I’m his desert. Jackson orders his third Jack and Coke, and the bartender, Whitney, gives me a side-eye. We usually cut people off after three to keep this place from being more of a bar hangout than a fine-dining restaurant.

I take Jackson back his drink and reach over the table to grab the dirty dishes. A wave of shock resonates up my body from the sting on my ass. I step away from the table, and Jackson is smiling at me.

Fucking smiling .

My blood boils for the audacity that he thinks he can touch me. I draw my arm back and crack my clenched fist across his jaw .

There’s a split second of shock on Tori’s features as Jackson’s head recoils back, and I reach for the steak knife resting atop the dirty dishes.

I don’t think.

X broke a dam inside of me, and I want retribution for being treated like something to be played with. The knife sinks into Jackson’s stretched neck, and I rip the blade back—blood splatters across my face and uniform. Someone grabs my arm, and I swing around, slashing blindly and connecting with flesh. My vision turns black. I’m animalistic, crawling atop the table and reaching my next victim. They’re pigs—all of them. And I’m taking them to slaughter.

“Puppet,” a low, calming voice says. I pause and listen for it. For him. He’ll be so proud of me. Nobody touches what is his. “Puppet, look at me.”

I blink until I’m able to see through the red that I’ve bathed myself in.

Jackson is staring at me, frozen in place. There isn’t any blood on my skin, and all four guys and Tori watch me, still bent over the table. I glance at the knife and my hand.

I didn’t punch him. I didn’t kill them. But fuck do I want to.

“Did you like that, sexy?” Jackson whispers, his hand now rubbing the spot he slapped. My knuckles whiten around the hilt.

“Tessa!” Cookie shouts, and his hand falls away. I stand, keeping the knife firmly in my palm while pulling the dirty dishes to the edge of the table. I don’t break eye contact with Jackson. He doesn’t know it, but he just signed his death sentence, and I’m his personal grim reaper.

“I’ll be seeing you around.” He slaps a large wad of cash onto the table and casually struts out of the restaurant. Tori flips her hair in my face and scoffs.

Yes, you fucking will . But when you realize it’s me, it’ll be too late .

Anticipation hums under my skin like when your palm itches and you can’t get relief, no matter how hard you try. I grab the cash and dirty dishes and return them to the kitchen. A crazed smile stretches across my cheeks as I go through the mundane shift of helping the rest of my customers. All the while, I’m plotting in my mind how it will feel to have the life wane from Jackson Henry’s eyes when my knife sinks into his chest. Will I make it slow and painful, or quick, creating a beautiful canvas with his blood splatter?

Maybe I could sell it as abstract? I giggle, and my customer arches their brow.

“Something funny about requesting Gluten-Free?”

“No, not at all. I’ll get that for you right away.” If only he knew the madness circling behind his waitress’s mind.

I’m going to be an artist.