The Right Moves (The Game #3)(16)
Author: Emma Hart

The large arch that greets us immediately reminds me of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. The stone is expertly carved and the statues of horses and men adorning it look regal and very military.

“Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Arch,” Abbi says softly from behind me. “My favorite entrance. When I was a kid I used to come here and stare at it for hours. I don’t know why, but it just amazed me.”

“I can see why.” My eyes flit from statue to statue, and I barely notice when she walks through the arch to cross the road at the other side.

“Are you coming or are you just gonna stand there like a lemon all day?” She crosses the road when there’s a break in the traffic, and I jog to catch her up. More monuments and arches are just inside the entrance to the park, all surrounded by lush green bushes and trees as they come into their summer bloom. Already I can see why Abbi is so taken with this place.

“This place looks huge,” I mumble.

“That’s because it is.” She runs her hand along the rough bark of the tree. “I think that’s why I like it. It’s a great place to disappear.”

“For someone who lives for the limelight, you really like to hide a lot,” I say without thinking.

Her steps falter for a second. An unsettling cloud lowers over us, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Even people who live in a spotlight need to hide once in a while.” Her voice is soft, barely audible over the gentle breeze rustling through the trees surrounding us. “If you promise you won’t try to find me, I’ll show you where I hide.” She glances over her shoulder, and through the playful glint in her eyes is the shadows. Ever-present, they pull me in and entrance me as she takes a few skips away from me.

I hold up two fingers. “I promise. Scouts honor.”

“Were you ever a boy scout?” She stops.

“No. Well, once. I hated the uniform, so I quit.” I shrug. “Plus my brother loved it. There was no way I was going to spend more time with Jase than I needed to, believe me.”

“Don’t you get along?”

“About as well as water and oil,” I reply dryly. “We’re not that bad now. You’d think being the only boys in a family of six kids, we’d be close, but we’re not really. He’s seventeen, and I won’t lie, his “I know everything and I’m always right” teen attitude really pisses me off.”

“Ever thought your “You don’t know everything and you’re nearly always wrong” adult attitude might annoy him?” Abbi asks with a raised eyebrow as we walk down a seemingly never-ending path through the park.

“Not really.”

“It probably does.”

“How do you know?”

She points to herself. “I’m eighteen.”

“And to think I left London happy I wouldn’t have to deal with any more teenage girls. Damn it.”

“You’re really lucky I’m about as strong as a newborn baby or I’d throw you over this bridge for that comment.”

“Bridge?” I look down and realize we are indeed standing on a bridge. Below us is mini waterfall surrounded by rocks and boulders. The water falls into a clear pool, and numerous birds I don’t know the names of fly around. Some zip off into the trees, and others land on the rocks and stare into the water before taking flight once again.

It’s completely silent apart from the water rushing and the birds in the trees singing. I didn’t notice how empty the park was until it, or even how beautiful it is.

And Abbi is completely right. This is the perfect place to hide, to get lost, to disappear. I get the feeling we’ve barely even scraped the surface of what Prospect Park has to offer. Growing up in London and spending half-term holidays in my paternal grandparents’ country house means I’m no stranger to nature or parks, but I can honestly say none of them hold a candle to this place.

I turn to Abbi to tell her this, to thank her for showing me this of all places, but she’s not next to me. I spin on the spot, looking for her, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Abbi?!”

Giggles travel up to my ears, and I lean over the side of the bridge. She’s sitting on the boulder in the center of the falls, her shoes in her hand and her feet dangling in the water.

“I told you this is where I come to hide.” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice. “Fallkill Falls. Only one of my hiding places, but by far the best one. The falls are linked to a whole stream of falls and pools and ravines. This one is further away from the main paths so less people come here. It’s usually only hardcore nature-lovers, or real life lovers looking for five minutes of privacy.”

I fold my arms against the side of the bridge and smirk. “I bet that’s a nice sight to wander onto.”

“It’s only happened once, and I’d prefer not to repeat the experience.” She shudders and tucks her hair behind her ear again.

I laugh and swing myself up onto the bridge. I scale the side of it until I can reach a rock with my foot and climb down. Abbi watches me as I pull my shoes off and step into the cool water, walking toward her. She scoots over on the boulder so I can sit next to her and tucks some hair behind her ear.

“I can see it being a perfect place for real life lovers,” I muse and look at the water rushing past. “These rocks would make for some interesting positions for sure.”

Abbi gives a quiet snort and glances at me. “Like what?”

“Uh.” I hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not a walking Karma Sutra, you know.”

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re male, right?”

I turn my face full toward her, my eyes meeting her bright blue ones. “I can assure you, Abbi, I’m all male.”

She blushes. “Well most guys I know have the Karma Sutra burned into their brains.”

“That’s probably because the guys you know haven’t passed puberty.”

“True, but they still know it.”

I grin slowly, putting one of my hands behind her back and leaning back. I don’t take my eyes from hers, and her tongue runs across her lips when the flush from her cheeks goes. “That’s because boys need the Karma Sutra. They haven’t worked out there are more ways to make a woman happy than just using your dick.”

Her eyes widen and her lips part as blood rushes to her cheeks again. She pushes hair away from her face and drops her eyes for a second. Only a second. Before I can say another thing, those baby blues are focused back on mine and holding me trapped.