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Played. Liz Fichera
Читать онлайн.Название Played
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781472096227
Автор произведения Liz Fichera
Издательство HarperCollins
“There’s no reason to be embarrassed, Riley. Or scared. I’m as scared as you are.” I had to push off to the side of my brain that I had never been with a girl before, naked. Not like this, so close we were practically sharing the same heartbeat. I wondered if I should tell her that? Would it put her at ease?
Instead, when it turned dark again, I reached for her shoulder. “Come here.”
A few seconds later, as if she’d needed time to consider it, she crawled to me on her knees. She sat between my legs, facing me. I wrapped my arms around her and she wrapped her arms around me, at least as much as she could. We were chest-to-chest, skin touching skin. I tried not to think about the softness of her skin or the sweet scent of her hair. Instead, I counted backward from one hundred and forced myself to focus on survival. Staying alive. Global warming. Global cooling, more like.
I rubbed her arms, her back. “Better?” My voice cracked.
Her head nodded beneath my chin, fast. Nervous. I could hear each swallow. “You?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Much.”
Her body froze again and so did mine.
“It’s not like that, Riley. I promise.”
“Okay,” she said, but her voice was still uneasy.
“Let’s lie down.”
She stiffened again in my arms but I pushed her backward, gently. I cradled her head by my right shoulder and then curled the rest of my body over hers, doing my best not to crush her. Her warm breath heated my neck as we lay on the ground. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” she squeaked.
“Am I hurting you?”
“Uh-uh.” Another soft squeak.
“You’re lying.”
She didn’t answer.
I shifted a few inches, as much as I could in the cocoon that we’d made for ourselves. Pine needles poked every inch of my skin. Despite the branches for our makeshift bed, the ground was still rock-hard. I closed my eyes and did my best to relax. Did my best to picture being warm. I pictured a bright sun and a hot, sizzling desert—anything but the soft body beneath me. After a few silent, agonizing minutes, I said, “I know this sounds gross but it would be better if we burrowed underneath the pine needles.”
Her hands squeezed my arms. “What about bugs? And spiders? I really hate spiders.”
“It’s too cold for them,” I lied. We’d probably wake up covered in ant bites, but at least we wouldn’t freeze to death.
“Okay,” she said with so much trust in her voice that I felt equal parts good and bad—good for keeping us warm but bad for telling lies. Suddenly I felt very responsible for this girl in my arms. Riley trusted me. She believed me. I did not want to disappoint her.
We burrowed like animals, digging beneath the branches, covering ourselves in a blanket of mostly dry pine needles and moss. Then we lay back again, Riley curled into my chest and one of my legs curled around Riley. After a while, our breathing slowed, and there was warmth.
The warmth turned into heat. Blessed heat. Body heat as thick as a blanket. Our shivering stopped and my breathing matched Riley’s, breath for breath. I felt her heartbeat against my chest.
I looked up at the sky, breathing easier, but still trying to keep my mind focused on anything but the fact that I was holding a mostly naked girl in my arms and willing the rest of my body not to react. Rain still pattered against the trees and a few drops reached us, but a couple of stars poked through the clouds with the promise that the storm was breaking. Finally.
“Riley?” My voice sounded loud.
“Yeah?” she whispered.
“I’ll play.”
She gasped. Her chin rose to touch mine and I couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll tell me something personal?” She sounded doubtful at first. “Really, really personal?”
“Yeah, why not?” I paused to swallow. “But you’ve got to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.”
“I absolutely promise.” Her breath hitched.
“Okay,” I said. “I trust you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I said again, hesitating all over again. Why had I opened my big mouth?
“You can tell me, Sam,” she said with conviction. “I won’t tell anybody.”
I sighed. Then I took a deep breath. Then another for some nerve. Another patch of black sky cleared above us. More stars twinkled through the tops of swaying treetops. I looked down at Riley and could see the vague curve of her chin, her nose, even the whites of her eyes twinkling in the starlight. She waited for me to speak, barely breathing.
“Sam?” she prodded, lifting herself over my chest. “You’re killing me. What. Is. It?”
My secret dislodged like a boulder from the top of a cliff. There was no taking it back. “I’m in love with your brother’s girlfriend,” I blurted.
Riley gasped again but for a split second I didn’t care.
It felt good to be rid of it.
So I proceeded to tell Riley everything.
15
Riley
Say. What? I raised myself higher on my elbow, knocking the top of my head against Sam’s chin.
Okay, I was expecting Sam to fess up to hot-wiring a car or maybe even cheating on a final exam but lusting after my brother’s girlfriend, Fred Oday? No. Way. Was he crazy? Fred and Ryan were inseparable. He’d have a better chance dating Lady Gaga.
“You’re in love with Fred Oday.” I didn’t say it like a question.
“Yep.”
“For how long?”
“For forever.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Since we were in grade school.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“What do you love about her? I mean, aside from the obvious.” Fred was brilliant. She was also beautiful in an unconventional way. She was kind of like the exotic foreign exchange student who intrigued everyone without really trying. Throw in the fact that she could beat the butts off most of the guys on the varsity golf team and she became A-list material. I couldn’t blame my brother for loving her, too.
“Everything,” Sam said with a sigh.
He wasn’t making it easy. “You need to be more specific.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“And she’s smart,” he added.
“Well, duh.”
Sam laughed. “That’s not good enough for you?”
“No,” I said. “There must be something else, something you’re not telling me....”
I felt him inhale deeply beside me. Then he said, “We want the same things.”
“You play golf, too?”
“No,” Sam said. “It has nothing to do with golf.”
“Then, what?”
Sam