“Okay,” she says, smiling again. She lifts up on her toes and gives me a swift kiss before turning toward the door.
As I watch her walk away, my head spins with confusion. She kissed me in public, made a huge scene about the dance – it’s clear she’s not worried about our “friends only” agreement. But at the same time, now she’s being different with me. Is she still feeling weird about Erin? Is she using me to make Adam mad? Does she still have feelings for him?
God, why am I such a chick right now?
I roll my eyes and start walking toward my apartment, shaking my head. I’m overreacting, reading too much into shit. She’s fine, we’re fine – I’ve just been so worked up over the past week thinking about what was going through her head that I’m making shit up that isn’t even happening.
Pulling in a deep breath, I let the cool February air fill my lungs and then push it out, letting the stress go with it. I feel my chest deflate and realize how tense I’ve been all night. Everything is cool, nothing to worry about – except not killing Adam when I ask him to ride in that damn limo tomorrow night.
And that photo.
I try to convince myself I won’t have to deal with that, but something in my gut tells me I will. Not just with the president, but with my dad. I’m still in this game for him, I’m still here and doing what he wants me to do.
Right?
Yes. Definitely yes. UCLA is my dream school and I’m going to get there. But I can still have some fun with Skyler along the way, right? I mean, at this point she’s going to hate me no matter what.
Or maybe she won’t.
Maybe I should tell her I play, that I want to enter the tournament just for fun to see how I do. Then when I win, it’ll be like a joke – something we can laugh about together. Hey, remember that time I helped you train for that tournament and then I ended up winning? Hilarious!
Okay, so it sounded better in my head. But if I am still in this, if I’m still committed to figuring out her weaknesses and beating her in May, then I need to get her back at a table so I can watch. And I need to disconnect the feelings – hers for me, mine for her – a little fun, but nothing too crazy.
Although I’m pretty sure it’s already too late for that.
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
My dad’s voice rings in my ear as I pull the phone away, sinking my head further into the pillow. It’s just past eight and I am clearly not awake enough to answer any questions.
“Hmpf?” I manage, my head still aching from his booming voice.
“Get your ass out of bed and open the email I sent you. Now.” He coughs the last word, covering the receiver to cough more when he finishes. I roll my eyes and sit up, reaching for my laptop. When I pull up his email and click the link inside, a sudden rush of realization rolls over me.
It’s a photo of me and Skyler.
Kissing.
The headline reads: Skyler Thorne – Training for the Tournament, or for a Romp in the Woods?
Fuck.
“Dad, it’s not that bad. I’m going to talk to the president and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Damn right you are! But first you’re going to explain to me why the HELL you are kissing Skyler Thorne?!”
I cringe, remembering that he still doesn’t know how friendly our relationship has become.
“Listen, it’s not a big deal, Dad,” I reassure him. “I know it looks bad, but we’re just having a little fun.” I try desperately to grasp words that will make him okay with the situation. “She was having a tough time trusting me, but the closer we got the more open she got. She agreed to let me help her with poker, but she was resistant. I think this is the best way to get her to open up, to really see what her weaknesses are.”
Douche.
You are a fucking douche shovel.
The words leave an acidic taste on my tongue as they leave my mouth, but I know I have to say them. To my dad, at least. But then again, is it really a lie? I still intend to go through with the plan, so what else can I really say about what Skyler means to me?
Yep. Douche.
Dad sighs on the other end which causes him to go into another coughing fit.
“You okay, Dad?”
He coughs a few more times before responding, “I’m fine. But you won’t be if you don’t pull your head out of your ass and focus on the tournament and your mission at that school.” He sighs and I imagine him pacing in his office, running his hand through his graying hair. “Listen, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t an easy task. But I just… I really need you to focus. I need you to do this for me, Oliver.” There’s that damn name drop again.
“I know, Dad,” I say, my voice trailing off. He may be an asshole, but I love him, and I know how much this means to him. And I know how much UCLA means to me. I need to focus more, but it’s not that easy.
Not with Skyler in the mix.
“It’s only the side of your face and it’s dark, so hopefully no one will be able to place you. But you can’t be careless and let this happen again. You may not be known in the poker world, but you’ve played enough that they’d find a story to run if someone recognizes that it’s you hanging out with Skyler Thorne.”
Shit, I hadn’t even thought about that. What if they did find out who I was? If she found out who I was?
“I’ll be careful, Dad. I promise. I’ll handle it.”
“Good,” he says pointedly. It’s quiet on the line for a few moments before he clears his throat and adds, “Hope school is going well. I have to run. Keep me posted on developments. When’s the next time you’re watching her play?”
“Soon,” I lie, though I hope I can somehow make it a reality. I need to rein this shit in. Fast.
“Okay. Let me know when you have things squared away.”
“Uh huh,” is all I say before ending the call.
I sigh, tossing my phone to the side and moving to the end of the bed where my keyboard stands. My fingers work before I have the chance to tell them what to play. They glide over the keys, the soft and sad music filling my room. I think of the way Skyler felt when my hands were all over her, when my fingers were inside her. I think of how I felt waking up without her, or for the two weeks when I didn’t know where we stood. I picture her face in the firelight last night, something missing in those sparkling blue eyes of hers. What is she hiding? Does she know what I’m hiding?
My thoughts shift to UCLA, to the dream I’ve had for so long and what it means to me – to attend my dream school, graduate from the program I’ve always imagined, live in California and write shows that people love, that people crave. These are my dreams, they’re what my entire life has been built on… but are they still everything I want?
I pound the keys harder, closing my eyes tight and letting the questions pour through me and into the song. I should write this down. I should play this for Skyler.
I should let Skyler go.
Every thought flies at me at once, colliding with each other and scattering around me.
Things are far from squared away.
My head is still throbbing as I shuffle slowly downstairs, my fingers kneading my temples methodically. I wish I could say I had a hangover, that my headache was alcohol-induced, but unfortunately the three beers I had last night have nothing to do with this pain. I was up late – too late – thinking about Kip.
Shocker, I know.
Last night was supposed to be easy, but it wasn’t. I held him at a distance, but I know it’s not going to last for long. He sees it. I don’t know how or why, but he sees my poker face and he’s going to call me on my bluff. That has never happened to me before, not with anyone.