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His grin. It’s too much. I need a second to get my head right. “I’m going to the restroom. Be right back.”
I’m happy to find the women’s room empty. What the hell just happened? I’ve spent months with Oliver in much more intimate positions. I’ve held his hand and had his arms around me in the dark. I’ve laid beside him in his bed when he was hurting, when we were both hurting. Why did his hands on me this time feel different? More personal.
I’m turned on. Shame rolls through me at the realization. My nipples are hard under my bra and there’s an ache in the pit of my stomach I haven’t felt in a long time.
Leaning on the sink, I peek at myself in the mirror. My cheeks hold a slight flush, otherwise my turmoil isn’t visible.
Okay, get it together, Ella. Of course, you’re attracted to him. He and Alden have always been devastating to look at. It doesn’t mean anything. Other than my sex drive is waking back up and I need a new toy. Preferably a rechargeable one.
I splash some water on my face and take another moment to reassure myself that I’m not a monster lusting after my dead fiancé’s brother. It was a moment of human weakness. I need to stop freaking out and go have fun.
My pep talk seems to work. I return to our game, and after another stunning loss, we grab a drink from the concession stand then head into the game room. A couple are playing on one of the pool tables, but the air hockey one is open. Alden always used to swear I had superhuman reflexes when it came to this game because he couldn’t beat me no matter how hard he tried.
I feed a couple of dollars into the change machine, then dump the quarters on the edge of the table. “Now you’re in trouble.” The table hums to life, and I slide the puck over to Oliver. “I’ll let you start. Age before beauty.”
“Psh, we’re both pretty.” He hits the puck, trying to get it past me, but I’m ready. I hit it straight back and it goes into his goal.
“One,” I chirp.
“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” He beams at me, retrieves the puck, and hits it again. This time it stays in play for a few moments. He’s learned to guard the center of his goal, so when it comes my way again, I bank it off the side of the table and into the edge of his goal.
“Two to zero.”
It only gets better as the game goes on. He gets a little better at guarding his goal, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t get it past me. It clanks into his goal slot again.
“Six to zero. One more and I win. Is this embarrassing?” I tease. “This seems embarrassing.”
“Nah, I’m brain damaged. I get a pass.”
“Oliver!”
He shrugs, displaying a wide grin that I can feel in my stomach. “You’re the one who’s gloating over beating a brain damaged man. You should really take a close look at yourself.” Before I can reply, he slings the puck across the table into my goal.
“You have to hit it! That doesn’t count!”
He nods to the little score screen that now shows one to six. “Seems to.”
“Alright, cheater,” I laugh, banking the puck off the side. He doesn’t get to it in time, and the machine shuts off once it falls into his goal. “I still win.”
It must be late enough for school to have let out because the place is starting to fill up with kids. A few loiter around waiting to play, so we let them have the table.
“This was fun,” Oliver says, as we walk out to the car. “We should do it again.”
“Absolutely. I’m going to sneak out in the middle of the night and learn to bowl.”
“I need a bowling shirt withLightningprinted on it. That’s my new nickname.”
“Lightning?” I repeat, getting into my car.
He holds up his arm and flexes it. “Because I throw nothing but strikes.”
“Wonderful,” I giggle. “Very modest.”
He gives me a smile full of teeth. “I’m the most modest.”
Today was obviously the right call. All this time I’ve been pushing him to remember. It’s time to let him live. Let him remember life can be fun. Otherwise, what’s the point?
CHAPTER18
