Page 67 of Spiral
“Finally came to your senses, huh?”
Did she know I was coming? Or does she always hang out alone in nothing but a lacy bra and thong?
“Listen, I came here to tell you that this – whatever the fuck this is,” I gesture between us, my eyes still averted, “is over. Watson’s out, you lost your lackey, so you can stop whatever game it is you think you’re playing.”
She chuckles, brushing her long, curled hair over her shoulder.
“Come in here, Henry,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry.
“I’m good out here, thanks.”
She pouts her glossy lips, eyebrows furrowed in feigned hurt.
“Don’t you think I deserve some sort of explanation, what with all our history together?”
“Our history? You mean when you cheated on me and then tried to get my girlfriend killed on the side of the field?”
My girlfriend. Can I call her that? I have no idea.
She chuckles, her eyes heavy and words garbled slightly.
She must have been drinking earlier.
“Come on, baby. You look so sexy when you’re mad–”
“Natalia–”
“Just come in for a minute. We can talk like adults. No funny business.”
She winks at me and spreads open the door, fully revealing just how scantily dressed she is.
I groan, rubbing a hand across my chin in frustration as I step into the darkened room.
“I was getting a bit worried that I’d never see you in here again,” Natalia coos.
She leisurely lights a scented candle at her desk as she talks, her back arched over the wooden frame in an obvious – and pathetic – attempt to turn me on.
“Listen, Natalia. Nothing’s going to happen between us again. Ever.”
I flip the light switch beside her door, immediately showering the room in fluorescent brightness and momentarily blinding us both. Under the harsh, white lighting, Natalia’s usual modelesque exterior suddenly appears much more abrasive and unpleasant. Her makeup is heavy, with thick, black eyelashes glued slightly off-kilter. Her red lipstick is outside the boundaries of her mouth, I assume to make it appear fuller. Brown eyeliner bleeds below her bottom lashes, with specks of black mascara flaking onto her cheeks. She fumbles to hastily close her transparent robe, her cheeks glowing bright red in embarrassment.
“Henry, what the hell!”
“I’m gonna make this really simple for you,” I grunt, my muscles tensing as I remember how badly she’s attempted to hurt Georgia.
She tried to sleep with me after she saw Georgia crying. She sent Watson to fucking kill her by tackling her on the sideline. She broke into my physical therapy to hit on me after I’d rejected her. She kissed me after the game, knowing Georgia was watching, just to break her heart.
“You don’t go anywhere near me, or anywhere near Georgia…” I pause for a moment, realizing I probably should’ve planned a bit better for this conversation. “Or I’ll tell your dad that you’ve slept with the entire team – more than once.”
No you fucking wouldn’t, Anderson… but Natalia doesn’t need to know that.
“Ha!” she sneers, her eyes ablaze as she stands with her arms folded. “Like he’d believe you. I’m his little girl, remember?”
Alright, time to pull out the big guns.
“He might not believe just me, but he’d sure as hell believe it when every guy on the team admits it's true. They’ve been desperate to tell Coach they fucked his daughter for years, just to piss him off.”
Her brows furrow as a spark of rage shimmers through her narrowed eyes.