The Ex Games (The Ex Games #1)(12)
Author: J.S. Cooper

“This is our stop. See you later.” The guy nodded as they exited the elevator, and neither Brandon or I responded.

“Do you think they knew?” I gasped as Brandon turned me around and kissed me hard. He brushed the back of my skirt down and quickly zipped up his pants.

“Who knows? Who cares?” He laughed and grabbed my hand.

“I guess not you.”

“Why should I care? This is the best elevator ride I’ve ever had.” He laughed and kissed my cheek. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I don’t know how either.” I joked and his eyes grew serious.

“I think you may very well be the one, Katie Raymond. You may very well be the one.”

“So how have you been?” Brandon asked me softly at the same time I mumbled, “Fancy seeing you here.” He chuckled and I blushed.

“I’m good. How are you?” I spoke softly, scared that he could hear my rapidly beating heart. My eyes took in his appearance greedily. He looked even more handsome than I remembered, but just as smart in his dark grey suit. His hair looked as black as ever and it was still moist from his morning shower. He hadn’t shaved this morning, I could tell from the light stubble around his chin, and I clenched my hands to stop myself from rubbing my fingers over it. This elevator ride was so much different that the elevator ride we’d had so many years ago.

“Great.” He rubbed his lips. “Sorry about the kiss. I forgot for a moment.”

“It’s fine.” I blushed, not needing to ask what he had forgotten.

“You look well.” He looked me over quickly and disinterestedly. I felt disappointed that he hadn’t studied my body a little longer, or my face, but I guess he just didn’t care.

“Thank you, so do you.” I spoke disjointedly, and it felt weird being so polite with someone that knew every intimate part of my body

“You still look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” He smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I guess you’ll always have a youthful look.”

“Yes, I guess so.” I turned my face away, heat flooding my face at his unsubtle comments.

“So, you work for Marathon Corp?” he asked me casually as we exited the elevator.

“Yes, yes I do.”

“I take it the resume wasn’t faked?” He raised an eyebrow and I stared at him blankly. This was going to be harder than I thought.

“Everything on my resume was true.”

“It’s a good thing it’s illegal to ask for someone’s age when hiring them, isn’t it?” He looked at me coldly and I shivered. All pretense was gone from his demeanor. He still hated me. He still hadn’t forgiven me.

“I made a mistake once.” I looked him directly in the eye. “I’ve never done it again.”

“That’s good to hear. Or is that another lie?”

“I didn’t mean to lie.” I repeated the words that I had cried to him so many times in the past.

“If it had only been one small lie and you told me the truth, then I would have understood. But you perpetuated a fabrication of your life.” He stared at me with a hostile expression as his words tore into my soul. “Everything was a lie.”

“It wasn’t all a lie.” I bit my lip. I did love you, I wanted to scream at him. I did love you and you were supposed to love me. You were supposed to forgive me. But I kept quiet.

“You’d still be lying if I hadn’t caught you.” He shook his head furiously. “It was all just a game for you, wasn’t it? A high school girl caught up in a high school game.”

“I wasn’t in high school.”

“Close enough.” He looked away from me. “What difference does a couple of months away make?”

I remained silent, not knowing what to say. He was right, of course. I hadn’t known when or how I was going to tell him the truth. Of course I had felt guilty. I’d felt extremely guilty. Especially when he asked to meet my friends and family. I pretended I’d fallen out with the girls I’d gone to Doug’s with that first night and that I hadn’t made any new friends yet. Family was easy to discuss as they were all in Florida: I told him that one day we could make a trip for him to meet them and he had been fine with that. It got more difficult when he asked about work and wanting to meet my colleagues and attend one of the many happy hours I talked about. I had joined some study groups and told him I was trying to bond with workmates. I’d used sex to shut him up every time he brought up the topic. Aside from that, everything else was going swimmingly. Neither of us were great cooks, so we took up a gourmet cooking class together every Saturday morning and cooked dinner for each other every Saturday night, before making love for hours on end. I suppose eventually that would have gotten old and we would have wanted to do more than cook and have sex, but we were still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship. It was easy for me to skip the alcohol questions. I told him after the hangover I’d had that first night, I didn’t really want to drink much anymore, so I only had a few sips of wine when we were at home. When he asked to see my driver’s license picture one day, I told him I had lost it on the subway and was going to get a new one when I had more time. It didn’t matter much, as I didn’t drive, and we never spoke of it again.

Brandon loved to show me new things in the city. I was his first real girlfriend since he had left college. I tried not to think of that too much, though, as I always felt jealous when I thought about his ex-fiancé, and the subsequent women he had bedded. I didn’t like to think of him with other women. I wanted to be the only one in his life and in his memories. He laughed frequently when I asked him who he loved the most, who he thought of the most, who he wanted to be with the most. He thought it was cute that I had small insecurities about his past. He’d always kiss my forehead and tell me I was the one and only in his life, forever and always, and I would melt against him happily.

Everything was going perfectly, up until that day. I had organized my schedule so well that even I forgot that I was just an 18-year-old freshman at Columbia University and not an entry-level associate at a marketing firm in the city.

“I’ve got a work presentation tomorrow,” he’d groaned one night as I ran my hands down to his boxer shorts. “I’m not even prepared.”

“Is that your way of telling me no?” I’d laughed at him and kissed his ni**les. “Are you really telling me no?”