Page 39 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Fiona

FearTheBeard: Can we FaceTime?

CherryBomb: On it like a bonnet.

FearTheBeard: Gonna take that as a yes.

CherryBomb: :-*

I confess, I fix my hair and put on some lip gloss and mascara before I FaceTime with Dex. Okay, I change my top too. No way

am I wearing my frumpy, knee-length T-shirt with Princess on the Streets, Ogre in the Sheets across the front. Thank you, Gray, for yet another Fiona-themed birthday gift.

Instead, I wear a casual white tank and leave the bra off. If I can’t see Dex every day, I will make the times we do connect

count.

A flutter of anticipation goes through me as I settle down on my bed, my laptop propped on a pillow. Seeing him this way is a treat and a torture. No matter how good it is to talk to Dex, when it’s all done, I close my laptop alone.

Even so, I grin like a loon as soon as his face comes into view. Damn, he’s fine. Tanned from practicing in the Southern sun,

gold highlights streaked through his brown hair. Dex will never be a pretty boy; his features are too strong, his body too

big and built. His eyes, however, are devastating and beautiful—and as always, they shine when he sees me. The way he looks

at me is addicting. It’s everything.

My voice is breathless. “Hey, Big Guy.”

The corner of his lush mouth lifts. “Hey, Cherry.” He sounds tired and strained, and it hurts not to be with him.

“How are things?” I know full well he’s being hounded by the press, stalked by women—the idea of which I hate enough to gnash

my teeth. I ask because I want him to unload his problems on me.

He swallows visibly, and his entire body seems to deflate. “Not great.” Slowly he lifts his head, as if it weighs a ton. “My

privacy is nil at the moment.”

“Baby.” I can’t help but reach out and touch the edge of my screen, wanting to stroke the soft-rough edge of his jaw instead.

“It’ll get better.”

His nod is vague, his gaze sliding away.

“Hey.” I lean in. “I’ve got loads to tell you.”

Again, he nods, but it’s clear he isn’t listening. Then he takes a breath, and his shoulders draw back, when he looks directly

at the screen, his eyes are wide-open and anguished.

“Fi... I don’t...” His breath hitches. “I don’t think we should see each other for a while.”

My ears begin to ring as the blood drains from my face, leaving it numb. “What?”

Dex leans forward, his eyes rimmed in red. “They’re on me all the time.”

“Then let’s just tell them!” My voice is too high, too frantic. But then again, so is my heart. I can’t breathe properly. “Tell them about me and be done with it.”

“No.” His chin rises. “No, Fi. I told you before, that’s not going to happen.”

“Why? Because you’re protecting me? That’s bullshit, Ethan.”

A red flush washes over his cheeks. “Look me in the eye and tell me they won’t rip you apart. Tell me, Fi, because I know

for a fact they will. And so do you.”

“Maybe they will.” God, my chest hurts. I can’t find my breath. “I’ll get over it.”

Dex shakes his head. “I won’t. I promised you normalcy. Or as close as I could make it. I won’t pull you into this mess.”

“So...” I choke back a sob. “You’d rather dump me?”

He leans close enough that I see his eyes glaze over. “No. Cherry... I just figure we let this settle down for a while,

not visit each other until—”

“We barely see each other as it is. What’s the point, if we have even less than this?” I blink to keep from tearing up. I

won’t. I will not beg. “Please, Ethan. Don’t do this.”

“I have to,” he rasps. “It’s so fucking ugly here, Fi.”

My breath hitches. “So that’s it? You’re just going to push me aside?”

He blanches. “Please don’t think of it like that. I’m trying to protect you, Cherry. Even if that means from myself.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Ethan. I need you to want me.”

“I do want you. You’re the most important person in my life.”

An ugly sound leaves me. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it, Dexter.”

“You are,” he says with feeling, his cheeks flushing dark. “You are everything to me.”

“Then don’t push me away!”

He sits back in his chair with an audible thud. When his gaze comes back to me, it’s filled with pain.

“I know you don’t believe me, Fiona. But there is no one, no one , I care about more than you. I cannot let these fucking vultures go at you. Do you get that? I. Can’t. Do. It.”

A single tear breaks free from his eye. He doesn’t wipe it away but looks at me, pleading.

Suddenly, I’m so angry I can’t speak. My nails dig into my thighs as I breathe through my rage.

“Fi.” Dex’s voice comes from a distance. “Fi?”

My lips press together as I swallow down a scream. Finally, I look at him, but all I see is the red haze of my own frustration.

“I can’t talk to you right now.”

Dully, he nods. “Okay. I understand. I’ll call you later.”

My rage grows.

“Don’t...” I suck in a scream. “Don’t call me. Don’t text. Just... don’t.”

I slam the lid on my computer and shut off my phone. For a long time, I lie on my bed, stare blindly up at the ceiling and

think.