Home > The Love Game (The Game #1)(48)

The Love Game (The Game #1)(48)
Author: Emma Hart

“What the hell?” Aston's face appears at the top of the stairs. “Braden?”

I look up at him, my chest heaving as I try to control the bubbling emotions in my chest. I grip the banister with a shaking hand and run up the stairs two at a time, my shoulder knocking into Aston as I pass him.

“Dude? What?” He throws his arms out and follows me up the second staircase. I reach my room, shove the door open, and slam it in his face. Of all the people I want to see right now.... He's not one of them.

“Braden!”

“Fuck off, Aston,” I hiss the words out between my grinding teeth. My fists clench at my sides, and I drop my head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“What’s happened?”

What's happened? She happened.

“This.... Challenge f**king happened.” I turn to look at him, and he flinches slightly at the venom in my tone. “She happened. All this 'make her fall in love' bullshit is just that. Fucking bullshit! 'Cause guess what? I got played when I was tryin' to play her. She f**ked me, in more ways than one, ‘cause it was all a damn lie. Now it's over. It's f**kin' over!”

I grab the lamp from the desk and chuck it against the wall. The china base smashes, pieces flying across my room.

“Dude, you have to calm down.” Aston steps forward warily, holding his hands up.

“You know what, Aston? You go out, fall in love with someone and when she breaks your heart, you tell me you can be f**kin' calm!” I yell. “Get the f**k out of my room. Now!”

He nods once and steps back. My door shuts with a click. Alone.

Me, the four walls, and a shattered lamp.

A game. Was it as much a game for her as it was for me? No. Because it wasn't a game for me, not in the end. It was real, maybe it was always real. But not for her. No. It was a game to f**king all of them. And Meggy....

My best friend. My. Best. Fucking. Friend. She knew what she was doing. Double the betrayal.

~

I lie back on my bed, my hands linked behind my head. My feet are crossed at the ankles, and I'm staring at the ceiling numbly. Last night's anger has subsided, courtesy of two hours sleep, and I'm fighting the sting left by the loss of Maddie. It's Saturday, and I should be meeting her for coffee right now.

Of course, that won't be happening today.

My door opens, the squeak of the hinges giving it away. My eyes flick over, a part of me stupidly hoping its Maddie. What for? An explanation?

I look back to the ceiling, disinterested, when I see Megan. I don't exactly want to see her any more than I want to see anyone else right now.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers.

“What are you sorry for, Megan? You did what you wanted.”

“I'm sorry because until last night, I assumed she was still just sex to you,” she admits. “But I was wrong, wasn't I? She's more than that.”

I roll my head to the side, meeting her baby blue eyes. “Look at me, Megan. Do I look like I want to discuss Maddie, you, or any of that bullshit right now?” She shakes her head sadly. “Then you know where my door is.”

“Bray-”

“Here's a hint. You just walked through it. Goodbye, Megan.”

She sighs sadly and turns. She stops, her hand poised on the doorknob. “She's hurting, too, Bray. At first, it was all a game, but it doesn't take a genius to see that it's not for Maddie. Not anymore. She was crushed last night, and I haven't even seen her yet today.” Her voice is soft. “I've read a thousand books and watched all the romantic movies in the world, but nothing has ever been as real as what you two had. Nothing has even come close to it.”

She opens the door and passes through, letting it shut behind her with a soft click. I stare at the door, tracing the pattern of the wood with my eyes.

Eventually, I return my attention to the blank canvas of the ceiling, fighting down the same old sting yet again.

Chapter Thirty-Nine – Maddie

I haven't seen him for five days. I haven't been to English because I'm not ready to see him. The pain without him is bad enough. That all-encompassing loneliness. I didn't realize how much he took away the pain until.... Until he stopped being there to take it from me.

I think seeing him now would make it impossible. It's bad enough in my other classes – snide, triumphant looks from other girls, appreciative glances from the guys – all because I'm not his anymore. All because it went the way everyone always thought it would.

I never imagined it'd hurt so much.

But Braden was right. I got what I wanted – what I originally wanted. Right now, I'd like nothing more than to have him wrap his arms around me and kiss the corners of my eyes, like he always used to whenever I was upset. But it's not like that anymore.

I hold my books tighter to my chest and duck my head, hiding behind my hair. I've dealt with pain before. I've suffered loss and heartbreak, I can do it again. It's a different pain, granted, but I'll survive. I have to. Losing my mom and best friend didn't break me, so losing him won't.

Because through all the death and pain in my life, I've survived. That's how I know I'll always survive.

Nothing can break you unless you let it.

A hand grabs my arm and steers me away from the crowds and through the side doors. I glance up – Kyle. As soon as we get outside, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him.

“Don't be so sad,” he says softly. “A girl like you doesn't need a guy to be happy.”

“I know that, Kyle.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and rest my head against his shoulder. “But just because I don't need him doesn't mean I don't still want him.”

He tenses slightly but nods anyway. “He said it was all a game. It wasn't, was it?”

I sigh and step out of his grasp, my legs carrying me over to the picnic table under a large tree. I slide onto the bench and drop my books on the table. Kyle sits opposite me.

“At first it was a game,” I say honestly. “Kay, Megan and Lila challenged me to play him – to 'hump him and dump him.'” Kyle smiles dryly. I shrug a shoulder. “I agreed. What else could I do? He was too much like.... My brother.... For me to imagine ever getting feelings for him. But I did.”

“Because he isn't the asshat we all think he is?” Kyle raises an eyebrow, and I snort.

“He's an asshat, all right. He's egotistical, cocky, and smug.” I trace the wood on the table. “But he's also patient, gentle, and caring. He listened when I needed to talk. He was there. He wiped the tears and held me when I needed it. He made me laugh and made me forget. Before I knew it, I'd gone from hating him to liking him.” A tear makes a slow trail down my cheek. “To loving him. I don't know how it happened. Somewhere between all the laughs and tears, I fell in love with him. And I don't know how to get back up again.”

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