Page 38 of Playing the Player

“You think I don’t want you?” He asks, his voice full of disbelief. “Talk to me, Sash. Do you really believe that I don’t want you?”

I nod my head slightly, not trusting my voice. My chin trembles in his grip as the tears threaten to fall.

Conor exhales a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh and brings both hands up, framing my face.

“Of course I want you, Angel.” The words hit me straight in the chest. His eyes search mine. “I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you.” My heart stutters as more tears threaten to fall. “But I don’t want you like this. I don’t want you when your judgement is clouded with alcohol.”

He moves in closer to me, our chests almost touching. I lower my gaze, the intensity in his making it hard to breathe. “Hey, look at me.” I force my eyes to meet his. “When I have you, Sash, you’ll want me as much as I want you. As much as I need you.” His thumb brushes a stray tear that rolls down my cheek. “I want you to want me when you’re sober. When you wake up the next morning and remember every second.” His voice drops to just below a whisper. “I don’t want you waking up tomorrow regretting what happened.” He pauses, his eyes looking deep inside my soul. “Regretting me.”

My cheeks heat again, shame flowing through me. Is he right though? Would I regret it tomorrow morning? Part of me feels like I wouldn’t. I do want him when I’m sober, I’d be crazy not to, but a deeper part of me knows what he’s saying is true. It would change everything between us. And eventually, one of us would get hurt.

Another tear slips free and Conor quickly swipes it away with his thumb. It’s a gesture that shouldn’t mean anything, but in this moment, with the way he’s looking at me, it means everything.

“Don’t ever think I don’t want you. Okay?” His eyes hold mine. My heart flutters at his words. He says them with so much strength and so much passion that I want to believe him. God, I really want to. But I’ve heard that certainty before. Max used to speak with the same confidence when he talked about our future and look at how that turned out.

“Okay.” I breathe out.

A knock sounds on the hotel room door, drawing our attention. “Get changed, Sash. I’ll get the door.” Conor places a gentle kiss at the top of my head before leaving the bathroom.

The second he’s gone, my entire body sags. I stare at my reflection again and for the first time tonight, my mind is completely clear.

I barely say two words the rest of the night. Conor puts a movie on while we eat, but after what happened in the bathroom, my appetite disappears along with the last remnants of my drunken buzz.

Conor tries. God, he tries so hard. He cracks jokes, makes comments about the movie, keeps the conversation light, but I can’t bring myself to pretend I’m okay. It’s stupid. I know that. But still, I let the shame wash over me. This was my idea. My rules. Conor was just doing what I asked him to do. and I can’t fault him for that.

He didn’t reject me because he didn’t want me. He rejected me because he respects me. I know that, but knowing it doesn’t make the embarrassment disappear.

When we get into bed, Conor pulls me to his chest. I wouldn’t let him take the couch. It’s small and lumpy and looks extremely uncomfortable. I did offer to take it instead but he wouldn’t let me either. So I wait. I wait until his breathing becomes slow and even. I wait until I know he’s asleep. Then I quietly climb out of bed and move to the couch.

I can’t sleep beside him tonight. I can’t sleep at all. I have too many thoughts swirling around in my head for me to even try and sleep. I’m thinking about everything that has happened between us in the last three weeks.

This man has flipped my world upside down. He has made me feel things that I never have before. He makes me smile and laugh. He knows how to make me feel better after a shitty day at work. He makes me feel safe. Seen. Wanted. He’s perfect and whoever gets to spend the rest of their life with this man by their side will be the luckiest woman in the world. I just hope she knows that.

I don’t know what this means for Conor and I now that this party is over. Do we go back to how we were before, only bumping into each other a few times a month, pretending none of this happened? Do we stop this arrangement and stay friends? God, I hope so. That would be the sensible thing to do. The safest thing to do. The thing that won’t leave either of us with a broken heart.

It’s something we’re gonna need to talk about. Just not right now. Because as I lay here listening to Conor’s quiet breathing from across the room, I realize something else. I don’t think I want to talk about it at all. I don’t think I want this to end.

16

Sasha

Once a month, Liv and I have a girls’ night. It’s sad to admit, but it’s the one thing I look forward to every month. It’s even sadder to admit that it’s the only time I ever had any real fun.

Then Conor happened.

We’ve decided to keep our relationship going for a couple more weeks. We thought it would look weird if we suddenly broke up right after the party. It was actually Conor who decided it, not me. Plus, neither of us want to give the media any more reasons to dig into us than they already have.

People are starting to find out who I am. All they had before was a photo but now, they have my name. It doesn’t take a genius to do a little internet stalking and find out everything about me. I’ve already received messages after messages, mostly from women, telling me that Conor and I won’t last. I’m not his usual type. If you ever split up, give him my number. It’s ridiculous. Conor has turned all my accounts to private, but that doesn’t stop the comments from flooding his own posts. I hate it. The comments are degrading, humiliating, women hating on women because what? They’re jealous? But I hate myself even more because no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop myself from reading them.

And what happens when the fall out eventually comes? It’ll be everywhere. Every news outlet, every social media account, every person with an opinion will have something to say. Will the messages and comments stop or will they get worse? That’s terrifying to even think about.

The only good thing about all of this is that Conor has slowly started to become one of my best friends without me even realizing it. At least I know when this is all over, I’ll still have that with him.

I was still embarrassed about what happened the night of the engagement party when I woke up the next morning, but Conor and I talked it through. Somehow, after that conversation, things between us have been better than ever. I didn’t even know that was possible.

I’m meeting Olivia at a bar not far from my apartment. It’s the same one we went to when she and Josh first became a couple. It’s also the same one where I felt like smashing the place apart because I saw Conor kissing some random girl. It was worse, because I was there with Max. I try not to read too much into that, especially now. It’ll add to the list of complications that’s already going on right now and I think I have enough of those.

“Hey!” I call out when I see Olivia sitting at a booth tucked beside the dance floor.