The Player Game

Chapter 12

“You love me really.”  Finally, he releases my cheeks, smirking at my disgruntled expression.

I fix him with a glare, which doesn’t last long when he doesn’t bother taking a step backwards.  Embarrassed at my position between him and the lockers, I try escaping to the side, planning to take him by surprise and leg it down the corridor before he can say another word.  However, it seems my plan is flawed as both of his hands shoot out, caging me in between his arms.

My arms stuck to my sides, and my eyes having nowhere to look apart from into his, I find myself in a vulnerable position.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he smirks, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer.

My heartbeat pounds inside my ears as I feel the warmth radiating out of his body.  Swallowing down the nerves rising into my chest, I place my otherwise useless hands on his waist lightly, peering up under my eyelashes.  “Nowhere apparently,” I say quietly, smiling as his eyes glaze over, and he leans down, puckering his lips slightly.

Smirking silently, I wait until his lips are but millimetres away from mine before sharply turning my head to the left.  His lips, instead of meeting the target they want, collide with my cheek, and I instantly feel them turn down in a scowl against my skin.

“Emily,” he groans, removing his lips from my cheek and trying to reach my mouth.

Turning my head even further away, I resist laughing in his face.  “We’re going to be late for class,” I point out nonchalantly, pushing against his arm which falls disappointedly.  Without a glance backwards, I walk away down the corridor, making sure to add an extra sway to my hips.

The remainder of the school day passes uneventfully.  I keep my head down in class, ignoring the glares burning holes in my back.  I have no doubt that the majority are aimed at me by jealous girls, although every now and then I catch a guy sending angry stares in my direction.  The reason of which escapes me.

When the final bell rings, I leap gladly out of my seat, exiting the math class as quickly as possible.  I make a beeline for the corridor in which my locker waits, not surprised at the empty state I find it in.  Only several other people have lockers in this corridor, which only leads to one unimportant AP class at the end of the corridor.  Therefore, I am used to seeing it deserted.  In fact, the emptiness somehow soothes me after dealing with the mounds of people the whole day.

Pouring the few text books from my locker into my satchel, I jump, startled, as a hand taps me lightly on the shoulder.

“Shi-” I yelp instinctively, a hand flying to my chest, as I whirl around.  “Oh…” I stop mid-curse, trailing off at the sight of Brad in his football clothing.

“Hello,” he says breathlessly, running a hand through his already tousled dark hair.

I let my eyes wander over his baggy shorts and football shirt, tight to his chest.  “Hello?” I reply, my confusion at his unexpected appearance in my abandoned corridor.

“Uh…” his voice dwindles away.  His eyes dart around, almost as though he is embarrassed to be here.

I take the courtesy to close my locker while he works out what to say.  When he still doesn’t say anything, I raise my eyebrows.  “Do you want something?”

“I, um,” he stumbles over his words.  “How are you?” he asks weakly, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner.

“I’m fine,” I answer, staring at him both with surprise and curiosity.  Never have I ever heard Brad look this uneasy, not to mention the clear stutter in his voice.