Game On (Game On 1)

“It is a big deal,” I said, my voice beginning to tremble.

“Are you afraid he might tell Richard? Because if he does-”

“No. I need to tell Richard,” I sighed. “The night McCoy stayed at mine, Taylor told Richard that he was outside her house, which means-”

“You're McCoy's alibi.”

“Right.”

“Wow,” Miguel said, letting out a breath. “She lied.”

I nodded. “Yes. She lied.”

“You're worried about what everybody might think, aren't you?” he asked. “You shouldn't. People may never find out and Richard will believe you.”

He sounded so calm, so understanding and I didn't want to burst the bubble of faith he had in me. He honestly loved me, and as slow as I had been to realise, I loved him too.

Well done, Leah. You’ve really fucked up this time.

“Miguel, I need to tell you something,” I said, shakily. “When Radleigh showed up at my place and got invited to the party, I got drunk. I was drunk before I even left the flat.”

That confession alone was shameful enough, without having to top it off by ruining our relationship. Miguel's eyes were watching me intently which made me even more uncomfortable about what I had to do.

“At the party, I had a few more drinks and -” I trailed off as I saw the realisation of the truth seep into Miguel's brain.

“Oh,” he said, almost mechanically. “You slept with him, didn't you?”

Slowly, I nodded and Miguel dropped my hand.

“I'm sorry,” I told him, my voice breaking. “I'm so sorry.”

“But … you hate him.”

“I was so, so drunk. I don't even-” I paused for a moment, reminding myself that I had vowed to be completely honest with him. “There's no excuse for what I did. None.”

A few long moments passed, during which I didn't move and Miguel continued to stare at me in shock. After a while, I couldn't take it any longer.

“Please say something.”

“You slept with Radleigh McCoy,” he said slowly. “You had sex with Radleigh McCoy.”

“Miguel-”

“I don't understand, Leah. How could you … I thought …” he stopped, unable to fuse together the numerous questions that were circulating inside his head.

“I'm not going to do the cliché thing of telling you that I hope you can forgive me,” I said as a tear slipped down my cheek, “because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it at all.”

He shook his head. “Don't you dare cry. You made this mess. You have no right to sit there crying.”

“I know,” I said, wiping my eyes.

It was no use though, the tears wouldn’t stop. His words sounded angry but his eyes were full of pain. I wished I could turn back the clock, to take back the action that had caused all of this, and more than anything I wished I could erase his hurt and make Miguel smile again.

“I’m gonna go home,” he said.

“Just like that? You don't want to talk?”

“I don't even want to think about it. There is nothing you can say to make this better.”