Playing Hurt - By Holly Schindler Page 0,82

running up and down each other’s bodies.

But tonight, as Gabe kisses me, I can hear the sound of rushing water. Can feel drops of mist falling across my skin.

Clint

bodies in motion

I park the truck at the edge of the water that sparkles black beneath the moon. I don’t even have the engine turned off yet when I feel her hand on my wrist. She swallows the distance between us in a single gulp—her hip against mine, her breast pressing against my biceps. Her mouth an arrow aiming for my own.

She’s pulling my shirt from my slacks, tugging me forward. Without thinking, I’m suddenly pressing myself against her, stretching myself out flat—pushing her back against the seat of my truck. Pressing my hips against hers. Her touch is soft, her fingers warm on my skin.

Her lips? They’re strong and wet and full of want.

But no want in me bubbles up out of my chest to answer hers.

I open my eyes to find her staring up at me.

Chelsea

forfeit

Gabe works his mouth down my chest, kissing me along the neckline of my dress. He tugs at my spaghetti straps and continues to kiss me, making his way toward my breasts. But all I can think of is Clint and how his body had felt against my own. How desperately I wanted him. And I know, as Gabe’s mouth travels my chest, that I don’t want him. Not the way I wanted Clint.

I can hear the promise Clint and I made to each other: Never live timidly. And I know going through with this night is the coward’s way out. The tears I’ve been holding back burst forth, running down both cheeks.

Clint

dirty player

She wrenches away from me, pushes against my chest. She keeps pushing until we’re both sitting up again. Bats me away angrily when I try to take her hand.

“This isn’t your style, either,” she says, pushing her hair from her face. “Lying like this.”

“Lying?”

“Pretending’s as good as lying.”

“I want to be here, Kenzie,” I insist.

When she finally does look at me, her dark brown eyes are glistening. “I’m such an idiot,” she says. She raises her hands and lets them fall into her lap. “Just take me home.”

“Kenz—let’s not end the night like this—”

“I’m not mad, Clint, okay? I’m embarrassed, though. So don’t make it any worse than it is—”

“I wasn’t lying,” I insist. “I really do want to be here.”

“I know you do,” she squeaks. “Just with somebody else.” She rubs her face, shakes her head. “I’ve known you a long time, and you’re a good guy, and you deserve to be happy, and in a way, I’m getting what I wanted.”

“What’re you talking about?” I ask. This night is completely wearing me out.

“I hoped you’d fall in love again,” she admits. “And you did. Just not with me.”

Chelsea

man-to-man defense

Gabe lifts his head, staring down at me with a puzzled expression. “Are you all right?”

I shake my head, wiping at my tears.

“Where are you tonight, Chelsea?” he asks. “Because you’re definitely not with me.”

I put a hand to my forehead. “Gabe—I’m just—”

“It’s not nerves,” Gabe says as he rolls away. “It’s something else.”

“You went to so much trouble, and I’m messing everything up.”

“It wasn’t trouble—it was what I wanted. I thought it was what you wanted, too.”

“It was.”

“Was, not is?”

I can’t answer that—the words stick in my throat like splintered chicken bones.

“What’s going on, Chelse?”

I sigh and sit up next to him; I pull my spaghetti straps onto my shoulders. I can tell, from the tightness in his lips, that anger is really bubbling up inside him.

“The night before you go on vacation, we spend hours making out under the stars,” he says shortly. “Now, two days after you get back, you don’t want to be here with me. The thought of making love to me makes you cry?”

“Gabe,” I moan. “That’s not it.”

“Then what? Something’s happened. Something’s different. You can’t deny that. I’ve felt it ever since you got back. God—even when we were walking into the hotel, I wasn’t even sure this night was actually going to happen.”

My tears roll one after another, each forging their own shiny path through my powdery makeup.

“Can I ask you something that might piss you off?”

I shrug and nod.

“Was there somebody else while we were apart?”

I turn my head away, and my shoulders heave with sobs.

“I knew it,” Gabe mumbles. “I knew it,” he repeats, louder this time.

“Gabe, please,” I manage. I reach for his hand but he jerks away.

“It was the guy