The Inheritance Games Chapter Rewrites

Swing of the Club, Roll of the Ball-V1 (Ch. 15 of THL)

"Head down," Jameson told me. He stepped up behind me and adjusted my grip, his arms wrapping around mine, guiding them from shoulder to fingertips. Even through my uniform blazer, I could feel the heat of his body.

"Try again," he murmured.

This time, when I swung back, Jameson swung, too. Our bodies moved in sync. I felt my shoulders rotating, felt him behind me, felt every inch of contact between us. The club connected with the ball, and I watched it soar.

A rush of emotion built up inside me, and this time I didn't push it down. Jameson had brought me up here to let go.

"If Toby's my father," I said, louder than I'd meant to, "where has he been all my life?"

I felt a shift in Jameson's chest, the breath caught in his throat as if he was about to say something but hesitated to let it out. Immediately, I turned in his arms and put a hand on his blazer, whispering, "Please don't answer that." Up until that moment, when I tried swallowing I hadn't realized that there was a lump in the back of my throat and suddenly my bottom lip was quivering, my eyes watery to the brim with tears that threatened to overflow.

I looked up at him before closing my eyes and releasing the tiny droplets, twisting the fabric hard in my closed fist, exhaling shakily but feeling the weight in my stomach leave me at last. He pulled me closer till my nose was pressed into the soft linen of his shirt. I breathed deep.

After we stood like that for a few seconds, I pulled back and stared into the bottomless green depths of his eyes. The expression in them was kind, thoughtful even. It was a first for him, one of many and I knew deep down that there would be many more surprises in the future. "You okay, now?" he asked gently. The words were soothing, genuine, I almost believed them, that he meant it. I nodded slowly and side-eyed the woods below before making eye contact again. When I met his gaze, his eyes drifted not so subtly to my mouth several times and I knew what he was asking, what he wanted. It's the same thing I wanted.

I tugged his blazer and before I could breathe he was pressing his lips against mine, stealing what little air was left in my lungs. Jameson's hold was tight around my waist and my hand rose to his neck, my fingers snaking into his dark hair and pulling at it over and over again. The kiss was long and bittersweet, full of some kind of longing, of feelings that weren't there to begin with. Because, like last time at the Wayback Cottage, I didn't mean anything to him and he didn't mean anything to me. Right? This wasn't real but it didn't have to be bad either, it was enjoyable enough, enough to distract me from Toby and Ricky, the mystery, the game, everything.

As we parted, I didn't allow myself to look at him or even look anywhere else, I just ducked my head and buried my face into his warm chest. I didn't want to think, to feel at all. But Jameson never pulled away, he just played with the ends of my hair and kissed the crown of my head. It felt too good to be true, too intimate but I didn't care. I no longer did.