The Game Series (68 page)

Of course they never come. And it hurts – every time I look at the date of his last post, a grumpy cat picture, my stomach sinks a little more, twisting painfully with every millimeter it drops. The same feeling hits when I look at the sneakers he’ll never wear again or think of the pink shirt he bought for my graduation to piss me off.

The shirt he’ll never wear. The graduation he never got to attend.

I reach to the side and smooth my hand across the comforter beneath me. The navy fleece blanket gives way to the lighter blue sheet beneath it, both smelling of his Davidoff and fresh laundry. It amazes me his room still smells like him, and it’s almost as if he can’t let go either, even though he has no hold on his life.

I hope it never leaves. I hope his things still smell like my big brother, my idol, as long as I’m here. I know I taint it every time I walk in here but I can’t help it. It’s a catch-22… I either preserve the thing that reminds me of him the most by staying away, making the preservation irrelevant, or I keep removing a little of it by coming in when I get lonely.

The smell will fade eventually, this I know, and that’s what keeps me coming in here. Either way the musky yet fresh fragrance will disappear, so I might as well make the most of it while I can.
Besides, I adore the smell, even if I did taunt him about it constantly when he was alive.

“You’ll choke her,” I’d warned him, leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, ha ha. And you’re the expert on dating, I suppose.”

“I’m not allowed to date, Cameron. Remember?”

He chuckled and sprayed again. I wrinkled my nose.

“’Kay, seriously. She’ll be drowning in that stuff.”

“If I have my way, she’ll be drowning in Eau De Cam.” My brother winked. I gagged.

“You smell like a cheap whore.”

Another chuckle accompanied the kiss to my forehead. “How do you know I’m not?”

I scoot off the bed and open one of his drawers. His sweaters are lined up, all folded neatly, and I grab one from the top of a pile. I pull it over my head and look in his mirror. The hoodie swamps me, but I don’t care. I hunch my shoulders and bury my nose in the collar, smiling when I smell Davidoff. He wore this before he died and put it back in his drawer, obviously.

Little shit. I always knew he could put his own damn washing away.

The house is still silent since Dad helps Mom at the café on Tuesdays. I curl my fingers around my cell as I go downstairs, my thumb rubbing over the unlock key on the side.

I could call Layla now. I could get her to meet me, give me what I want, and then it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I wouldn’t feel so lost without Cam because I’d be lost somewhere else.

Somewhere else…

A knock sounds at the door as I put my hand on the handle, and I pull it open.

“Kyle,” his name leaves my mouth in an exclamation of surprise. What’s he doing here? Didn’t he get it before? I don’t need him.

Or rather, I don’t want to need him.

“Roxy. I wasn’t sure if you were here.” He scratches the side of his nose, looking down at me with his soft brown eyes. “Can I come in?”

I step to the side. “You don’t need to ask. You never have before.”

“Yeah, well. It doesn’t feel the same without him here.” His eyes focus on Cam’s sweater, and I wrap my arms around my body. “You wear that better than he ever did.”

I snort, shutting the door behind him. “Right. I look like I’m wearing a tent.”

Kyle shrugs, wandering into the front room and looking around. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes flitting from picture to picture. Me. Cam. Cam and Kyle. Cam and I. All three of us. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I storm into the kitchen.

“That’s nice. You don’t even know what I want to talk about.”

“Probably the same old bullshit everyone else does.”

“Or maybe it’s not anything to do with you. It might surprise you to learn not everything is about you, Roxanne Hughes. As much as you apparently think otherwise,” he finishes dryly.

My mouth drops open, and I turn to him. He leans against the doorframe connecting the kitchen and the front room, his hands in his pockets and his hair sweeping casually over his forehead.

“Wow, I don’t remember you being this much of a dickhead when you left here last summer,” I snap, disguising the sting of his words.

“And I don’t remember you being this much of a bitch, so I guess we’re on a level playing field here.”

I cock my thumb in the direction of the door. “You know the way out.”

Kyle doesn’t move. His head tilts to the side and his eyes study me. “You’re cute.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re cute.”

“I heard what you said.” I snap my jaw up. “By “excuse me,” I meant what the fuck?”

“I know.” The bastard grins. He fucking
grins.

“Something funny?”

“You really, really don’t want me to answer that.”

I stare at him stonily, trying to ignore the flipping of my stomach. The way he smiles… I’ve seen him do it thousands of times and it never gets old. It’s playful and endearing and annoying at the same time.

“I wish I could wipe that smile off your face,” I lie.

“Really? Because I wish someone would put one on yours.”

“There’d be more of a chance if you didn’t come over here and talk to me like shit.”

Kyle laughs. “Right. I guess you’ve already forgotten who started with the sass?”

I open my mouth and pause. Oh yeah. That was me…

“Exactly.” He pushes off from the doorframe and crosses the kitchen, his stride swallowing it up. I keep my eyes on him as he moves closer to me and leans his hip against the counter. “You know, just because I want to talk to you doesn’t mean it’s about you.”

“That’s the only reason most people do these days.”

“And who
se fault is that?” One of his eyebrows goes up. “I got home four days ago and even I can see you need a damn good talking to.”

“Hey-”

“But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

I narrow my eyes, putting my hands in the front pocket of Cam’s hoodie. “What, then?”

“Cam.”

I shake my head.

“Yes.”

“No.” I move away from him. “I can’t-”

“You might not need me, but maybe I need you for this.”

His words stop me in my tracks. “Why? You could talk to Si, or Ben, or even Lewis. Why me?”

“Because.” He pauses and exhales a loud, pained breath. “Because no one knew Cam the way we did, Rox. No one could possibly imagine how much it fucking hurts to be here without him. Except you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and open the front door. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t help you.”

“Jesus, Roxy.” Kyle’s feet thud against the laminate floor, and the air shifts when he stops in front of me. He takes a lock of my hair between his fingers, twirling it. “You take stubborn to a whole new level. I need to talk about him, okay? I need to remember him with someone who loved him even more than I did. Without him here… I feel lost. Completely fucking lost.”

I open my eyes. His face is right in front of mine, his eyes on mine, and I swallow. My heart picks up pace from both his closeness and the raw pain in his voice I feel right through me.

“I’m not ready to talk about him.”

“It’s been six months.”

“And?” I knock his hand from my hair. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about him, Kyle. You have to understand that.”

He smiles sadly. “And that’s your problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Oh, you have several.” His laugh is as hopeless as his smile is sad. “You’re just too busy hiding behind all the shit you do to yourself to realize it.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about that.”

“I said I didn’t want to. Not that I wouldn’t.”

“Asshole.”

“So you keep saying.” He backs away from the house, dangling his keys from his hand. “I won’t give up on it, Roxy.”

“On what?” I frown.

“On getting you to talk about him. You need it as much as I do, difference is I can admit it.”

“Kyle…”

“Iz comes back in a few days. She wanted me to tell you.” He gets into his car with the mention of his sister, salutes
me, and reverses. I stare after him as he drives down the street. My cell feels heavy in my pocket, and I pull it out. My thumb swipes across the screen to Layla’s number and hovers over the call button.

A fat tear rolls down my cheek, and I tap it. That conversation pushed me over the edge and tore open my already gaping wound. My body stings with the reality of it – I’m not the same person I was before and neither is Kyle. We’ve both grown up and been changed by the loss of the person that held us anywhere near each other.

I redial Layla’s number and accept the truth.

The day I lost Cam, I lost Kyle too.

“What are you doing here?” Roxy asks as I walk through the door of the café.

“Your customer service could use some work,” I reply, sitting on a stool at the counter.

“I’m sorry.” She smiles sweetly. “Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee.”

“In a mug or over your head?”

“Over yours, if possible.”

She purses her lips and turns to the machine. Her ponytail swishes over shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck. I narrow my eyes at her.

“You should probably take your hair down.” My jaw snaps shut.

“What? Is having it up too promiscuous?” she snaps.

“No, but the small hickey you clearly haven’t noticed on the back of your neck is.”

A quiet slap rings out as she puts her hand over her neck. “Are you kidding?” She turns back to me slowly.

If my eyes are as hard as my clenched jaw, she shouldn’t even have to ask. “Do I fucking look like I am? Cover that shit up, Rox.”

“I can’t have my hair down.”

“Bullshit. Selena wears hers down all the time when she’s working.” I nod to her hair. “Take it down.”

“Fuck you,” she replies.

I jump from the stool and move round the corner of the counter. I pull the hairband out in one swift movement, and her hair drops and falls around her shoulders.

“Kyle!” She spins and stares at me, her eyes wide. “Give me that!” She makes a swipe for the band.

“No.”

“Yes!”

I grin and shove it down the front of my pants. “Want it now?”

She stops. “You’re not a child. Don’t be so stupid.”

My elbows rest on the counter and I lean toward her. “And you’re not a whore. So don’t be stupid.”

“Again, nothing to do with you.”

“It is if someone’s trying to eat your neck every time you drop your pants.”

“Ouch. Say it like it is why don’t you?”

“Someone has to.”

“What is it?” She leans on the counter too, her face level with mine, and her lips curve up. “Is no one asking you to drop your pants?”

I tilt my head to one side slightly, moving closer to her. “Rox, if someone had me dropping my pants, you’d hear about it across town.”

“Likely because they’d be screaming at you to leave them alone.”

“Wrong. You’d hear it because they’d be screaming for more, and don’t you doubt it.”

She swallows and straightens. “Someone just needs to give you a good punch, y’know that?”

“Someone needs to give you several.” I laugh.

“You’re so funny,” she bites out. “Don’t you have anything better to be doing?”

I sit back on the stool. “Not really. I’m still waiting for my coffee, by the way.”

She clicks her tongue, sighs, and turns to the machine again. Her dark hair falls down her back, a kink halfway down where she had it tied up. My eyes go down, further again, and I look over her body.

Even in her work clothes you can see every one of her curves, from her waist to her hips and her ass to her thighs. And I should not be looking at her this way, but god fucking damn.

I can’t help the stir in me at the sight of her. I’d have to be blind not to be attracted to her, and every time she opens that mouth of hers and tears into me it gets harder not to shut her up with my own.

“Here.” She puts a mug in front of me.

“Thank you.” I take the mug and smile at her. She freezes for a second, her blue eyes on mine.

“How do you do that?”

“Do that?”

“That.” She waves her arms. “Be a prize dickhead then charming as hell the next?”

“It’s a skill. I was born with it, Rox.”

“Yeah? How’s that skill working out for you?”

“Wanna find out?” I raise my eyebrows as the door opens and Mia, a girl we went to school with, walks in.

“With her? Really?” Roxy hisses.

“Get ready for a lesson in seduction.” I wink and turn to Mia. “Well, hey, Mia. How are you?”

She stops next to me and tosses her brown hair over her shoulder. “I’m good, Kyle. How are you?”

“Better for seeing you.” I run my eyes over her body appreciatively. She’s not a patch on Roxy, but she’s attractive enough. “Looks like Florida has been treating you well. It is Florida, right?”

“Yeah.” She leans against the counter, smiling. “Hey, Roxy, can I get two coffees to go?”

“Sure,” Roxy answers tightly.

I smile slowly and sexily at Mia. She blinks once and takes a deep breath. I lean toward her.

“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?” I ask her. “How about…” I glance at her chest. “Catching up?”

She runs her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip. “Nothing I can’t cancel. Catching up sounds great.”

“Why don’t you meet me here about seven?”

“Perfect.” She takes the two cups from the counter and throws down a five. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kyle.”

“You sure will.” I give her that grin again, and she smiles like a little girl as she turns and bounds out of the café. She turns before she disappears around the corner and gives me a small wave.

I look at Roxy. She’s glaring at the door, her blue eyes hard and unforgiving.

“And that, Roxy, is how my charm is working for me.”

“You don’t even like her,” she throws at me. “You only did that to make a point.”

“And?” I raise an eyebrow, stand, and drop my own five dollar bill on top of Mia’s. “Like you said, no one else round here is trying to get into my pants. See ya.”

She stares after me as I walk out of the café. Her eyes burn into me until I disappear from her view, and even then I can feel her gaze on me.

So she’s right. I only asked Mia out to make a point to her – whatever point that was. Except it kinda backfired.

Now I’m stuck with a date I’m not interested in. And a hairband down my pants.

Fucking hell.

~

“Help me,” I say into my phone.

“What have you done this time?” My sister sighs.

“I’d love to say nothing, but I can’t.” I pause. “How do I get out of a date?”

Iz laughs. “Aren’t most guys trying to
get
dates, not get out of them?”

“Whatever. I’m not most guys. Just tell me.”

“I don’t know, Ky, sorry. I’ve never got out of a date before. Funnily enough I only agree to ones I want.” Amusement laces every one of her words. “In fact, why are you even trying to get out of a date?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t matter,” I say quickly. “What’s the kindest way to let a girl down?”

She says nothing.

“Hello? Iz?”

“I’m not sure whether to bug you to tell me why or tell you there’s no kind way to let a girl down.” She grunts. “And I’m trying to pack. Closing this stupid… fucking… suitcase… is… impossible!” Her last words sound like she’s saying them through clenched teeth, and I imagine her sitting on a suitcase, holding her phone to her ear with one hand and the other fighting a zip.

I chuckle. “Maybe you stop buying so many clothes.”

“Maybe you should shut… Ah, shit. The zip broke.”

“How do you even afford so many clothes?”

“It’s called a job. You should try it sometime.” She injects ten tons of sarcasm into her words, then mutters, “Stupid suitcase.”

“God, you’re funny,” I say dryly. “So you can’t help me then?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Good to know I’ve just wasted the last ten minutes of my life.” I hear another grunt down the phone. “I’ll leave you to packing up your mall-sized wardrobe.”

“Wait! You’re still picking me up from the airport, right?”

“Yes, Iz. I gotta go.
Don’t break anymore suitcases.”

“Asshat!” she calls as I hang up.

I sigh and lie back on my bed. What use it is having a sister – who is single and actively dating other guys – if she can’t help you with the best way to let a girl down?

The only choice I have is to make other plans. Then I can call Mia and tell her I have to do something really important. Believable? Yes. Kind? Well, sort of. As kind as I think I’m going to get. I could lie about other plans – but that would make me a dick.

Just like planning a date to piss Roxy off does…

Right. Well, I have to think of some shitty excuse soon, since it’s almost four, and if I don’t call her soon I’ll have to go out with her.

The doorbell rings as I ponder that last thought. Fuck. Maybe I can help Dad with something and hope she isn’t the kind of girl who asks so many questions she might as well have the size of my dick too.

Who am I kidding? She’s a girl.

I make my way downstairs and open the door to—

“Roxy.”

“Can we talk?” She looks up at me and continues before I can answer. “Fabulous.”

I raise my eyebrows as she sneaks past me into the front room. “Of course we can, Roxy. Come on in and have a seat.”

Her eyes shoot daggers at me. “Why are you so determined to treat me like a child?”

“We’re here again? Really?” I shut the door and walk toward her. “One, I’m not treating you like a child, and two, I’m making sure you don’t get in any serious trouble.”

“Right,” she draws the word right out. “Like Cam would?”

“Yep.” Mostly…

“Except with a lot less brother and a lot more petty.”