The Right Moves (The Game #3)(28)
Author: Emma Hart

“Both,” I reply, putting my hands on my hips and staring up at him.

His grin widens, a hint of a small, sassy boy sneaking through. “You shouldn’t try to run, Abbi.”

“And why’s that?”

He steps forward, his toes almost touching mine. I take in a deep breath, my eyes fixed to him as the contradictory sparks of serious and teasing flash through his green eyes and captivate me.

“You can’t run from someone who really wants to catch you. That’s why.”

I close my eyes for a split second, and in that time, it seems like the evening sky gives way to the night one. I could swear it wasn’t this dark five minutes ago, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ve been standing here with my eyes on Blake’s for longer than I thought.

“Then the cotton candy inside the amusement park should be really, really scared right about now,” I whisper.

His lips twitch on one side. “Maybe it’s just not the cotton candy that should be worried.”

My chest tightens, a mixture of fear and apprehension restricting my ability to breathe. Anticipation sneaks its way in, winding itself around the stronger feelings of fear and beating it down. I feel it taking over, tingling through my whole body, even down to my toes. My lips part of their own accord, making my shallow breaths feel scratchy as my mouth and throat go dry.

Blake’s eyes flick to my lips, and I can see the indecision flitting across his features in the mar of his brow, the twitch of his mouth, the slight clench of his jaw.

Do it. Don’t. Do it. Don’t. Do it. Don’t.

My feelings battle inside me, clashing over and over until I’m uncertain whether I want to end it and either grab him or run from him or stay here. Just stay here, his body closer to mine than I thought I’d ever allow and his eyes searing into me every place they look.

Slowly, he reaches a hand up and tucks my wayward hair behind my ear. “Let’s go scare some cotton candy.”

He steps back and turns toward the amusement park, walking in the direction of it before I can respond. I stare after him for a few beats as my body relaxes, a tinge of disappointment nudging at the back of my mind.

I welcome that nudge. I welcome it because it tells me what I wanted to know. It tells me there’s something there for Blake that’s more than physical, more than pure attraction. It tells me he’s slowly chipping away at the walls I’ve so carefully constructed.

More than that, it reminds me of what it’s like to feel something other than pain, guilt, and self-loathing.

I quickly slip my fingers beneath the wrist of my sweater and hold onto my pulse point for a second. My strong, racing pulse.

For the first time in over a year, I don’t just feel alive.

I feel like I’m living.

I run after Blake, catching him as he’s leaving the park again. He’s holding cotton candy on a stick, and when he recognizes me, he holds it out to me.

“Where’s yours?” I take the stick. “Thank you.”

“I don’t like candy floss that much.”

“Candy floss.”

“No. We are not going there again. Absolutely not.” He shakes his head, and we walk straight across the boardwalk to the beach.

“Go on. Please. Just once.” I look up at him through my eyelashes and pick some cotton candy off the stick, putting it in my mouth and letting it fizz on my tongue.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “Fine. Candy floss. Happy?”

I smile sassily at him. “Very. I love the way you talk.”

“Love it, or find it funny?”

“A bit of both, actually.” I pick some more of the pink sugar off. “But in the best kind of way.”

“Then you won’t mind if I do this.” He reaches over and takes a chunk of my cotton candy, shoving it in his mouth with a grin.

“Hey! I thought you didn’t like it!”

“I said I didn’t like it much. Not that I didn’t like it at all.” He leans over again and takes some more. I swat at his arm with my free hand as he laughs, and he bats back at me. Our arms tangle, and my hand ends up hooked around his elbow.

My fingers flex against his tightened bicep, and instead of pulling my hand away, I curve it round his arm. He steps closer to me, our arms brushing together, and I wait for the tensing of my back, the flood of fear. Whatever I’m expecting doesn’t come. I feel nothing but comfort being so close to him.

I take the stick of my cotton candy in my other hand, the one wrapped around his arm, and glare up at Blake as he takes a third piece.

“For someone that doesn’t like this stuff much, you’re really pushing it.”

“I have to have the taste for it. Apparently I have that taste tonight.”

I roll my eyes but the smile on my lips gives me away. His own smile warms me, and when he takes yet another piece of it, I get ready to yell at him. Instead of taking it to his mouth, he puts it to mine. I stick out my tongue, and he puts the pink fluff on there. It melts straight away.

Blake turns his head out to sea as we walk slowly across the sand. The breeze flits through my hair, and I sigh silently. My arm tightens around his again, and he pulls our linked arms into his body more. I rest my head against his bicep, still picking at the cotton candy, and wonder what has really changed in the last three weeks.

I don’t need to ask though. Not really.

Something so simple has changed. Something so trivial, yet so important to me. Something I never thought I’d do again. Something, three weeks ago, I would have laughed at.

Something called trust.

Because, a voice in the back of my mind whispers, I trust Blake.

Heart and soul.

~

I stare blankly at my ceiling. The whiteness of it is so clean. So clinical. And it does nothing but remind me of the starkness of my room in St. Morris’s and the starkness I tried so hard to leave behind when I returned home.

My fingers twitch and my eyelids close and open rhythmically. They’re the only parts of my body that are moving. The rest of me is deathly still, and I can feel myself remembering why I hate white so much.

White is a blank canvas. Anything can be drawn onto it and anything can be projected, meaning anything can be seen. Anything at all – like a shadow puppet, or a crazy piece of art.

Or a memory.

A memory can form and instead of it playing behind your eyes, you could watch it on the plain surface in front of you. Instead of it staying locked up inside where it should be, it could break free, a movie playing only for you.