Page 24 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)
SEAMUS
Present Day
Using my angular brush, I swipe the mixture quickly over the canvas. As I flick my wrist, the tertiary colors blend together, making some combination of beige that reminds me of the shade of Mimi’s tank top the day I took her against the tree.
That was the first time since that I followed the out of control emotions I’ve been suppressing. I finally let them take over, completely giving in to the loss of control whenever she is near.
And it completely bit me in the ass.
The terror that blanketed her face, the fear that enveloped her body, was as blinding as the desert sun. The overwhelming sensation of confusion I’ve had since the moment I pinned her arms up, and how she responded after, has been loitering in my mind for the last few days.
There is so much more that she isn’t saying, that I don’t know, and it’s bringing me to the brink of insanity.
So, naturally, she’s ignoring me and I’m dropping flowers at her front door everyday… twice a day.
It’s not excessive. It’s persistent .
Plus, let’s be honest. I’m well past stalker-ish behavior.
My most trusted ability to read people is totally failing me when it comes to her. I’m left so goddamn confused after spending any amount of time with her, it makes my brain feel like an unsolvable Rubix cube.
Rocco is still digging up information and hasn’t found anything that makes any sense.
Usually, my daily therapeutic trips to the shooting range is what I need to feel clarity, but that’s not even working. The only thing I’ve been able to do to get my head on straight is paint.
I’m torn away from my thoughts and the gaze I had on my canvas by the knock at the front door.
I look down at myself, holding a brush in one hand and a palate in the other. My dark denim jeans hang low on my hips and a few color streaks paint my bare abs and arms. Putting the brush down, I slip my hand in my pocket to grab my phone and check my Ring app, to see Hudson is at my front door.
Shit.
Did we make plans today?
Maybe we did and I completely forget, which is entirely possible with the distraction of a certain neighbor.
I haven’t actually seen him since our run in at Afterburn, and I’m certain he’s here to give me shit.
I prepare myself for the verbal Armageddon as I put down my palate and throw a towel over my shoulder that I use to wipe off the excess paint from my fingertips.
Walking downstairs, I step to the door and open it to Hudson with a smug smile and a questionable look in his eyes. All of a sudden, Dane pops out from the side of the house and comes barreling into me like a goddamn untrained dog, practically knocking the wind out of me.
“Dane. Jesus, man,” I huff out as I pat his shoulder.
“I told him that it was a risk to rush in and tackle you like that. I’m surprised you didn’t shoot him,” Hudson says, as he steps into the house, kicks his shoes off—because he knows better—then goes to the kitchen to grab some beers.
Hudson and I have been friends since we were in kindergarten, and he knows me the best out of our group of friends. Well, I should say his group of friends. Because I never knew our current friend group until Hudson introduced me to all of them.
Hudson and I spent our entire childhood together, practically inseparable. Then he went off to college, staying close to home, going to the University of Houston because the local baseball scouts wanted nothing more than the local baseball hero to go to their university.
It was a good investment for them considering he played for them for four years before getting recruited straight to the major leagues, until an injury set him back in his career for a few years.
Although those years were tough for him, now he’s back in the MLB playing for the Seattle Smashers and loving every bit of his professional baseball life with his wife Ember, and I’m so fucking happy for him.
I still remember the motto the university gave him after they announced his recruitment and full ride : Hudson Byrnes—Texas grown .
Giving him shit about that was probably my favorite thing to do.
Especially since I was overseas, on active duty, living in the most obscene conditions, seeing some of the most painful things.
I had never planned to go to the military until my senior year when I was left alone with my dad, leaving me with no other option.
Bootcamp was difficult, but once I got through that, I didn’t hate it.
Being athletic my whole life, a fairly healthy eater, and my natural personality of enjoying routine made adjusting to the military lifestyle easier than I expected.
Then it became second nature, and it felt like something that was a bit of calling for me .
I didn’t have much at home, so it never felt like I was missing much.
I think Hudson had a harder time with me being away than I did.
He went out of his way to write me letters, just to keep me updated on life and everything happening in what used to be our world.
I know he did that more for him than he did for me, but those letters kept me sane.
He kept me connected to reality, because it was easier to disconnect and disassociate my emotions than process all the pain and suffering that was happening around me and my squad.
Either way, he always kept tabs on me, and whenever I would return home from being deployed, Hudson would always be around.
So, naturally, his college friends became my friends.
I didn’t really need them, or want them—the more people you care about the more people you risk losing—but Hudson is a stubborn prick who refused to not let me get to know them.
Needless to say, I’d do anything for any one of them now.
Dane included. Even though he has the attention span of a squirrel and is as predictable as a raccoon.
When I first met him, I was unsure how he even got accepted into a university. Then I found out he was on a full academic scholarship because he’s brilliant. Beyond brilliant—Einstein brilliant.
During his time in college, he felt that the communication process between the university, students, and professors lacked, well, everything it should. So, instead of doing what every other normal human would do and complain about it to the school board or suggest change, he did something about it.
He created a platform that fed all the information the students needed to know, from the moment they applied to the university, to the acceptance process, and building out your college career for what you wanted to pursue.
It was like an automatic built-in school counselor, that walked you step by step through the orientation process and followed you through your entire college career.
It also connected the students and teachers, and allowed for a tracking system that could be shared between community colleges and universities, so there wasn’t a lag when transfers happened—because that was also a frustrating thing for some of the students.
It integrated grant and scholarship platforms, providing up-to-date information to all the students who were applying with any type of financial assistance, allowing them to take advantage of programs that they might qualify for based on the parameters they provided when applying.
There was some type of smart code that he created on the backend of this platform that was really the beginning of an “AI” type of technology.
The entire system was fully automated, integrated, and so far advanced for its time.
So, pretty much, if Dane is presented with a problem he doesn’t like, he fixes it.
You would think he would be a total ‘Type A’ personality and completely rigid, like myself. But he’s the exact opposite.
Slap a surfboard in his hands and you’d confuse him with a beach bum that spends his days on the sand, basking in the California sun.
His bright, blue eyes are never not smiling and his shaggy, dirty blonde hair has never changed. Actually, I think he cuts it himself when he’s bored.
The basic white T-shirt and cargo shorts he currently has on pair well with his beige flip flops and backwards cap, even though I doubt he had any thought of what he was wearing when he got dressed this morning.
You’d never know it by looking at him, but he never has to work again due to selling off not only the platform he created, but also, the rights to the code behind it to one of the most prominent tech companies in the world.
He’s an unpredictable jokester with a genius IQ, and half the time none of us know what country he is in or where he’s living.
“Dane, man. What have you been up to?” We finally pull apart in a brotherly hug as he kicks off his flip flops, and it reminds me of how Mimi does it before she steps onto her mat. Actually, come to think of it, they are almost identical in many personality traits.
I haven’t seen her practice this week and that…Well, frankly, it pisses me off. Not only have I come to rely on my daily yoga sessions, but I hate not knowing what she is doing, how she is doing.
“I just got back from Italy, spent some time in Rome. The hostels there are wild, man. Wild.”
“Out of all the places you can stay. Hostels, really? Why don’t you at least get yourself a short term flat or something?” I ask as I pad my way to the kitchen where Hudson is holding a beer out to me.
“Because it’s fucking crazy fun. You can meet people in bars and some of the nightclubs, but hostels, hostels are where it’s at. You guys have to come with me sometime.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and all I can do is shake my head and laugh as I tap the neck of my beer with Hudson’s and take a swig.
Hudson is married now and would never look at another woman sideways, much less join Dane on one of his trips .
Me? Fucking kill me before I sign up to backpack through Europe, staying in shared rooms with random ass people.
“Never, not happening. Ever,” I reply, taking another swig of the excessively hoppy, bitter beer.