Page 40 of Game on, Love
“We could quiz each other.”
“That could work.” She nodded.
“What does the winner get?”
“What do you want?”
“Everything. Anything.” I murmured under my breath almost instinctively.
“What?”
“Nothing. If I win… I want you to go on a date with me.”
“Youwhat?”
“A date.” I couldn’t stop the smile forming on my face if I tried.
“You want to go on a date… with me?” Raina’s face was a mix of shock and surprise. “What ifIwin?”
“What do you want?”
“Hmm… I’ll need to think about it.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’m winning.”
“Cocky much?”
“It’s called confidence, love.”
Her eyes narrowed in my direction, though there was no bite to it. “Fine, let’s do it.”
My brows jumped in delight as I extended my hand in her direction. A current ran through me as her small hand fit perfectly like a puzzle piece in mine.
“Game on, love.”
12
Raina
THE TENSION WAS SUFFOCATING.
The usual chatter, laughter, and lightness that usually floated around the campus were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the white lights seemed harsher and brighter than normal, and there was a pin drop of silence. When someone did speak, the voices were clipped, and the smiles were thin lines.
It was my first day working from the campus after the restructure was announced. I’d mostly been working from home, travelling or on-site for shoots and whatnot, but somehow, when Hazel said that today was much lighter compared to the past week, I was suddenly extremely thankful for the disaster my own life brought.
Dealing with my brothers and a ruined apartment? I knew what to expect.
Conversations with clipped voices and fake smiles? It made my skin crawl.
I was in the stuffy meeting room, where our heater did a horrible job of covering the late September chill. The loud, blaring noise only adding a hint of irritation to the meeting I had zoned out of approximately ten minutes ago. I glanced at the time in the corner of my laptop.
02:12 PM
My last meeting of the day was overrunning, and I felt drained. Chewing on my lower lip, I wondered if it was worth going home and just resetting my brain before I worked through my focus time like I had planned.
The notepad beside me had scribbled up notes and ideas we had for the end-of-the-year campaign, but after a couple of lines, I had given up. It was a testament to how anxious I was.
Everyone dealt with change differently, but I was someone who was so used to it that I was immune to the restlessness that came with it. But the more I talked about it, the more anxious I made myself.