Me:
I don’t want to go out, I don’t want to have sex.
Sex Pest:
Is that why you left alone after coming on a stranger’s fingers and mouthing my name?
Me:
I’m never talking to you again.
Sex Pest:
I’ll be there in 20 and I’m bringing food.
I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?
CHAPTER 9
broken like me
Rosie
“Ididn’t realize you were such a sore loser,” I tease him, enjoying the furrow of his brows and the unique look of frustration plastered across his face.
Caleb and I sit on the fluffy rug on the floor of my living room, the take-out pasta he brought over, finished, with the mess still across the coffee table. The city lights pierce through the window, adding to the glow from the warm lamp in the corner of the room while Caleb stares down at the pile of cards between us, eyes darting back to the cards in his hand every so often.
“I amnota sore loser. You are just obviously cheating.”
“It’s impossible to cheat in this game.” It isn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not that Iamcheating, I would never ruin my winning reputation for something as sly as cheating. But I have caught mytíoshoving cards under his lap during a game before.
“I’m going gray waiting for you to decide,guapo.”
“What is this game anyway?” he mumbles, finally placing a card down, turning his frown back to a smile when his eyesmeet mine. I look down to the pile in the middle and giggle, immediately placing my own card down.Eat shit, sex pest.
“Okay, now Iknowyou’re cheating.” He grimaces and rubs a hand down his face.
“You can’t accuse everyone who beats you of cheating, Mr. Smith. It’s unflattering. Besides, surely you expected me to win when I’m teaching you a new game.”
“You didn’t answer me before, what’s it called? I’m googling the rules.”
“Cabeza de mierda,or shithead, I suppose.” I watch him put down a card. Quickly analyzing my hand, I throw down four queens, clearing the pile before putting down my last card, a five.
“Bullshit!” he scolds, the look of shock across his face sending me into a fit of laughter. When I recover and look back at him, there is a weird smirk across his face, some kind of sparkle in his eye as he looks at me…so intently.
I clear my throat, returning my gaze to the remaining cards on the floor in front of me.
“No, it’s shithead, not bullshit.” He rolls his eyes. “But close. Plus, it’s not over yet, I have these six cards to get through. This is when it gets fun.”
He pouts slightly, almost like he is trying to withhold his smile as he looks down to his hand and the cards in front of him. He places down two eights and then looks back at me.
“How about we up the stakes.” The tongue-in-cheek expression he wears has me narrowing my eyes with hesitation. He mirrors the gesture, drinking his beer. The two of us, grown adults, locked in a staring competition. “Before that pretty, conceited head of yours jumps to conclusions, I know we aren’t fucking, and I’m not going to try to get you naked.” I snort at his obvious lies. “Unless you want to.”
There it is.
I laugh under my breath, shaking my head as I place down my top three cards—kings, and he retaliates with a ten, clearing the deck and putting down the last card in his hand. An ace.Motherfucker.
When I lift my head to meet his stare, he just grins.
