Page 8 of Play The Game

A snort bursts out of me, as graceful as ever. “Fuck off. I've seen you blow a load on Annabelle’s face, don't start bullshitting me now, Arbour.”

He smirks at me, probably remembering the intense eye contact in the woodland area while he’d gotten off. “I’m not saying I've never fucked girls before, I’ve hooked up with my fair share. I'm just saying I've never wanted a girl as a… permanent thing.”

A permanent thing. What an eloquent way to describe what we all have now. I stare at him until he groans again and continues.

“Look, I was fucking terrified of how I felt about you. I still am, if I'm entirely honest. My circle is small for a reason; I don't trust people, and I don't like them. Then you walked into that fucking school with your head high and mouth running, and I just… I loved it. I love everything you do; you draw me in, and I can't keep my eyes off you. I didn't know how to talk to you without you thinking I was just like every other dickhead trying to win that stupid fucking bet.”

Nodding slowly, I rest my head back onto his chest as I let out the breath I was holding. I’ve spent the entire time we’ve been apart stewing on this… relationship we now have, but I’m both excited and terrified by it. I like being a part of the ‘family’. I don’t want jealousy and relationship drama to ruin what we have. It’s hard to put that into words, but if he’s going to sit here and bare his bullshit to me, then I’m sure as hell going to bite the bullet too.

Steeling myself, my voice is still too thready for my liking but I get the words out well enough. “I still don’t understand how you went from wanting to rip Blaise and Ash’s heads off to not giving a shit about… sharing me.”

He blows out a breath and scrubs his hand over his face again. “It wasn’t about them being with you. It was about whether I would get to have you.”

A second ago, I was worried about the way he was avoiding looking at me, but the tables have turned so fucking quickly that my head is still spinning. I get how he’s feeling. I get it because no amount of torture could make me look him in the eyes right now.

Trying to ignore the way I feel, like I could pass out or puke at any moment, I’m proud when I manage to get out the real question that’s turned my mind inside out all summer. “You’re saying you want me enough to share me with Ash and Blaise, but doesn’t it piss you off that I want them as well? What about when it stops being new and fun and shit happens and gets complicated? Are you sure you’re not going to resent me for dragging you into this?”

There’s a beat of silence that stretches on a little too long, but I’m still too chicken-shit to look at him and see his reaction. There’s a part of me that’s absolutely certain he’s about to call time on us, on me, and walk out of here. Even just the thought of that makes me sick. There’s no way I’m going to risk searing the image of the rejection on his face into my mind right now. God, I can barely believe I choked the words out coherently.

It’s only the press of Harley’s lips against my head that stops me from breaking in half. When he does gently pull away, his movements are slow as he tentatively shifts to sit on the edge of the bed. He’s still touching me though, a hand resting just above my knee where the blankets were kicked off overnight, so I know he’s not running away from me like I‘m worried about. At least not yet.

When he rolls his shoulders back, I realize he’s psyching himself up. Avoiding eye contact, sitting up, getting some space. He’s preparing himself for the worst, so the fall doesn’t kill him. He’s just as nervous to screw this up as I am. He might even feel like he’ll die if it goes to hell, just like I do.

That’s how much I mean to him.

I sit up to tuck myself against his back, and when my arms and legs wrap around him, he accepts the embrace easily. The moment I’m settled, his fingers begin to trace the scar on my ruined leg idly. It makes me think of Ash and my chest aches a little.

“I thought you would only pick one of us, and I couldn’t deal with it not being me.”

His hand wraps around my thigh, squeezing gently. “Sharing you with them isn’t a compromise for me. The three of us, we’re not normal. We’re never going to be normal. We’re too fucking messed up from everything we’ve had to deal with to ever live a white-picket life like everyone else does and, honestly, I wouldn’t want to anyway. Being with you, like this… it’s exactly what I want.”

A clear declaration, and I get the feeling this is his response to my declaration just before we left school… just like Ash had done. This is Harley telling me he’s not whole and being with him is not the easy option.

It’s baffling to me that he’s worried in the first place.

I don’t do easy.

He lets out a slow breath, one that sounds too weary for the average guy but about right coming from this mobster’s son from the Bay. “I think it’ll take all three of us to keep you safe. Keep you alive. Fuck, the three of us and Floss, and maybe even then this fucking world you rule could take you out. I can’t let that happen, Mounty. Meeting the Jackal, seeing the way he looks at you and hearing the way he speaks to you only made it clearer to me that we need to get you out of here. Being stuck in that hotel, hours away, knowing the Jackal was pissed and stalking you, never really knowing if you were okay, all while you were here by yourself with no one watching your back—it was a fucking nightmare. I’m not leaving you like that again, Mounty.”

It’s a sobering confession, one that shoves me out of the fear-soaked mess of my feelings, only to crash me right back into the cold and unforgiving reality that I live in, regardless of my relationships. He’s right to be worried about the consequences of our forced meeting with the Jackal. I was so worried about it that I even sent Illi to watch his back, something I’ll never tell Harley.

With a groan, I collapse back onto the bed, flinging an arm over my eyes like I can somehow block this mess out again. “I can’t believe you’re making me think about this shit when we’re finally together, alone, in bed with no classes to go to or teenage bullshit to deal with. This isn’t how I wanted my morning to go.”

He chuckles at me, leaning down to give me the measliest of kisses, a peck that barely counts as affection. “I didn’t trust myself, Mounty. I woke up underneath you, every inch of you looking fucking perfect, and I almost made a fool out of myself. I know better than to play with fire, so I’m not pushing it. You still look tired, you haven’t been eating enough, and you’ve clearly spent too much time working. I didn’t spend the whole break desperate to see you just to have you drop dead the minute I get here because I can’t restrain myself. Get some more sleep. I’ll run down to the store and get the fridge filled up right.”

When I only huff back at him, he adds, “I’ll make you French toast for breakfast. If you get some more sleep, I’ll even grab you sprinkles and ice cream.”

My heart does a weird thumping thing in my chest and I try to brush it off, but there’s something about the way that he knows me that just… terrifies me. Okay, it turns me on as well, but that only makes it even more confusing.

When he pulls the door mostly shut behind him, I’m out cold in under a minute, clearly just as tired as he said. I wake up an hour later to my phone pinging, and I seriously consider rolling over and ignoring it. But, it’s probably Avery and she tends to panic if I don’t get back to her, so I search the sheets until I find it, only to groan at the text.

Sweet fucking lord.

I should have gone back to sleep.

At the beginning of the break Blaise started a new group text that doesn’t include Avery; the ‘joint relationship’ group. There are a dozen unread messages, but the newest one is from Harley, who has just fucking broadcast my untouched status to the other two without asking me, because he’s an utter dick.

The sound of the front door tumblers unlocking drifts to the bedroom followed by the rustling of the grocery bags. Then my phone pings again with Ash’s reply.