Page 61 of The Wrong Game

Stripping out of my underwear and t-shirt, I ran a hot bath, sinking into the steaming water and letting it soothe my aching muscles. I knew Zach was still upset, and he had every right to be. But, tonight was a stepping stone for both of us. We’d both move forward, knowing where we stand with the other, and we could finally stop playing all the games.

In fact, I was pretty sure this was thebestthing that could have happened, the more I thought about it. Now, Zach and I were friends. He was a great guy, and we had so much fun together. Maybe one day, we’d look back on all this and laugh.

I smiled, closing my eyes and sinking deeper into the water.

Everything was back to normal.

Zach

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Mom asked at dinner Saturday night, her eyes sad as she watched me push another bite of my lasagna around my plate. “You love lasagna. It’s your favorite.”

“He’s probably just sad that I denied his request to work tonight,” Doc said.

Mom gasped, like I’d personally offended her. “You wouldn’t miss family dinner. Why would you want to work tonight?”

I sighed, dropping my fork to the plate and sinking back into my chair. “I just have a lot on my mind, Mom. I figured working would keep me from sulking.”

“That’s not how we raised you,” Dad chimed in, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He took a sip of his red wine, leveling his gaze with mine across the table. “Suppressing whatever is bothering you is only going to make it more of a mess when it all boils over.”

I ran a hand over my head, roughing up my hair and suppressing a groan. I would never be disrespectful to my father, but right now, the last thing I wanted to hear was his preachy shit about how I should embrace my feelings.

That was what got me into this mess in the first place.

“What’s going on, son?” he asked after a moment. “Talk to us.”

“Oh, oh,” Micah said, shoveling a large piece of garlic bread into his mouth and holding up one hand like he was in school. “Let me guess. Football girl broke your heart already, didn’t she?”

“Shut up, Micah.”

He just laughed. “Oh, man, I nailed it, didn’t I? What, she didn’t fall for the rose pedals on the bed and the Nicholas Sparks double feature?”

I gritted my teeth together, letting my fist fall hard on the table. “Damn it, Micah, I said don’t.”

The whole table shook with my action, and Mom reached out to steady her wine glass before her eyes narrowed in on me. “Zachary Abel.”

“Sorry, Mom. I’m sorry.” I sighed, folding up my napkin and placing it on the table. “I’m okay, I promise, okay, guys? Just not in the mood to be razzed tonight.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, bro,” Micah said, sincerity in his eyes. “I was just messing around.”

“It’s okay.” I cleared my throat, standing. “I’m going to get some fresh air. Excuse me.”

I didn’t look at any of them as I ducked out of the dining room, my next breath coming once I was on our back porch. I draped my arms over the railing, watching the sun set over the trees in the distance, the Chicago skyline outlined behind them.

I was pathetic.

It had been five full days since I’d seen Gemma, since the night she’d made her pointcrystalclear at Doc’s bar, and yet I was still moping around like a boy who’d lost his dog. I should have been able to let her go by now, to accept that what I wanted wasn’t going to happen — but it seemed like my attitude about the whole thing only got worse the more time passed.

At first, I’d just been pissed. There I was, excited as hell to see her that night, to talk to her, to learn more about her, and she’d shown up to my bar and hung all over another guy in front of me. What was worse was that sheknewwhat she was doing to me. It was on purpose. It was a game. She even admitted it when she called me the next day.

But, it was after that call that my anger turned to a feeling of helplessness.

She was finally honest with me, telling me she’d been hurt, and asking me to respect the fact that she just wasn’t ready to date yet. It had been all fun and games before, buying the season passes next to her just to rattle her. I thought it was about sticking to her plan, about her OCD personality that needed to check shit off her list.

But it was more than that.

Someone had fucked her over. I didn’t know who, or what they did, and I probably never would. All I did know was that she’d asked me to be her friend with desperation in her voice that let me know she meant it when she said that’s all she could let me be.

Friends.