Page 66 of Game on, Love
Every. Single. Time.
Still, I wasn’t too bothered by her avoiding me, having got her phone number in the end. And as I said, a win is a win.
“Please don’t tell my brother that I got in an Ascari. I think he might have a stroke,” Raina stated as I shut my door.
Okay, maybe she won’t.
She watched me with a tired expression, and I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my lips.
“He is very much aware of the fact that I own this car,” I replied as the engine purred to life, the growling sound sending a thrill of comfort in me. I raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes.
“It takes more than that to impress me,” She said, leaning back in her seat though I noticed her lips tilting up before I put the car into gear.
“Trust me, I know.”
She was a diamond heiress who had built her own brand by the ground and worked in the pioneer of motorsport, away from her father’s spotlight and career. Impressing her with materialistic things or grand gestures would get me nowhere, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to use all that I could while I tried to impress her in the way she wanted, and the smile told me it was working.
Keeping my focus on the road, I asked. “You hungry?”
“A little, but I made homemade bagels before I left this morning, and I’m still craving them.”
“What time did you wake up?” I frowned, throwing a sidelong glance.
“Somewhere around four… I think.”
I slowed the car as we hit a red light, turning to face her. “What’s going in that head of yours, Gorgeous? We both know that wasn’t an active choice.”
“You don’t know that; I did really have a couple of things I need to sort out early this morning.”
“Raina.”
Her shoulders slumped just as I turned back to the road. “I… don’t know.”
I glanced at her, catching the way she toyed with her sleeves, and I realised she was anxious. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that. I feel like it won’t make sense if I say it out loud.”
The light had turned green, so I started the car again. I waited for her to continue, throwing subtle sideways looks, but the more I drove, the more she twisted her sleeve. I frowned, annoyed at the fact I was doing this in a car and couldn’t give her my full attention.
“Fuck it,” I whispered as I pulled over at the side of the road and turned my blinkers on. Shifting in my seat, I met her wide eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“We are talking.”
“You don’t need to pull over on the side for that!”
“But I want to,” I wiped my grin on the back of my hand at her exasperation because something told me she wouldn’t have found my amusement any better.
“Oliver, you’re going to get us in trouble.”
I stilled, any traces of amusement disappearing from the air.
She bit her lip at the realisation, and I gulped. She hadn’t meant to say it either, but now that she had, I wanted to taste how it felt on her lips.
Our given name was something that was part of our identity, something that is shared with the whole world and somehow still among the most intimate things about someone.
But when you hear your name out loud in crowds, from bystanders and the media, there’s a point where you loose the true essence of it, almost making the doorway to your life an invisible glass.