Game On (Game On 1)

Surely I’d misheard him.

I shuffled across the bed, pulling my dress up. “What?”

“You have to go,” he repeated.

“Why? I thought .. I mean …”

I didn't actually have a clue what I meant. All I knew was that less than a minute ago, we’d been about to engage in some wild, frantic sex.

“What?” he asked, his blue eyes looking at me coldly. “What did you think?”

Resisting the strong urge to pull him back on top of me so I could show him, I said, “Why don't you tell me what you're thinking? First you ignore me for four weeks, then you bring me up here, half undress me and then change your mind! What do you want from me?”

“I want you to go!” he said, firmly. “Just get out of my room and go back to your party.”

I refused to move, still reeling. With the strength of my feelings for him and the emotion of knowing I was leaving in the morning, being rejected by him – again – caused angry tears to spring to my eyes.

“What is this? Your final attempt to drive me crazy? You couldn't have asked me to leave you alone when we were in the bar instead of bringing me up here and-” I stopped abruptly, my words sticking in my throat.

“You said you wanted to say goodbye. What did you think would happen?”

“I didn't have a thought in my head, actually. I just wanted to see you.”

“Now you have. So you can go.”

I stood up to straighten my clothes but he didn't even look at me. He kept his back turned and stared straight ahead at the wall as if I wasn’t even there.

Without another word, I left his room, pausing for a second to look back at him, willing him to turn around and say something. When he didn’t move, I closed the door.

The night was long and sleepless. My head ached, my eyes were sore and puffy.

And it was time to go home.

Freya greeted me with the usual strong cup of coffee, which I really needed having only managed one measly hour of sleep.

As she perched herself on the edge of my bed, she said, “What happened with McCoy last night?”

I didn’t look up from my coffee cup because I didn't want to discuss it, and I particularly didn't need a lecture. Things were hard enough already.

“We were worried about you,” Freya went on. “Miguel said you'd gone back to the hotel. I wanted to come back to be with you, but … well … he told me you'd gone to see Radleigh.”

I would have been angry with Miguel for confessing my secret, but really, he’d done me a favour. If Freya had come to the hotel to find me I would have been in no mood to talk to her.

I nodded. “I did.”

“Why?”

“I needed to see him,” I said, my voice quivering already.

“Oh, Leah,” she said, moving closer to me to put her arm around my shoulders. “What did he do now?”

“It doesn't matter,” I told her. “I'm going home today, so it just doesn't matter.”

“Then why are you crying?”

I let my head flop on to her shoulder, too tired and broken to stop the tears. “I'm such an idiot. I thought … I thought he’d be happy to see me.”

“And he wasn't?”