The Player Game

Chapter 21

A loud song blasts from the speakers around the edges on the room, the floor vibrating with every drumbeat.  I take a swig from the bottle as Aaron finds a place near the centre of the dance floor.  Micky seems to have been swept away by the tidal waves of people moving in every direction, so it leaves the two of us alone.  Well, if you could call it alone when bodies are knocking into you every two seconds.

 Aaron takes the lead, placing his arms on my hips, whilst mine automatically shoot out to rest gently around his back, hereby pulling him closer.  A smirk takes over his facial expression at the subtle move, but he makes no comment, closing the space between us.

It turns out that Aaron is an expert at dancing.  The second the smirk shows on his lips, he starts moving in time with the music, using his hands to twirl me around, and just as quickly snapping me back in so that I pull up flush with his chest.

“You never told me you were an expert,” I comment, warming to the atmosphere as I start to wave my hips from side-to-side.

His shoulders rise and fall in answer as he twirls me around again, but this time, his arms don’t let go, keeping me trapped in a spoon position.  His arms are wrapped tightly around my abdomen, only slipping slightly as our bodies move in a synchronised circular motion.

His breath tickles my ear as he speaks.  “I’m an expert at everything.”

I free one of my hands from his hold, smacking blindly in the direction of his head.  A satisfactory smack tells me I have hit my target.  “Stop killing the moment, Aaron,” I tease, spinning myself back around and taking control as I grip his waist first.

“I’ve never killed a moment,” comes his arrogant reply.

“Maybe that’s because you’re too drunk to realize it,” I respond wittily.

It’s my turn to smile as the egoistic smirk is wiped from his face.  His eyes narrow as I raise an eyebrow in anticipation of his usually sharp retort.  Instead, he lowers his head and boldly places his lips onto mine.  It’s as though my body moulds into his as a warm buzzing sensation shivers through my veins.  My lips respond with a mind of their own; my mind is still a step behind, trying to make sense of the strange new feeling spreading over my body.

All too quickly, the pressure is gone, and I find my eyes fluttering open confusedly at the change in events.  It’s as though the absence of his warm soft mouth has cut through a wire, bringing the electric current inside me to an abrupt halt.

“And that’s why I never ruin a moment.”

That one sentence brings me back to my senses.  Of course.  This is a game, and Aaron is a Player, and so I play along, dancing and grinding with a vengeance into the night as the alcohol turns minutes into seconds and hours into minutes.

Two o’clock in the morning quickly comes around, and the number of people gradually thins out.  A few stragglers are horded out of the house by a drunken Verity, waving a dirty broom in the air.  However, energy continues to pump throughout me, the buzz of the alcohol working as a caffeine substitute.  Aaron’s arm is wrapped tightly around my waist, guiding me towards the front door behind a gang of guys.

“How are you all getting home?” Verity hastens to question as the last person is sent flying out of the door.

“We’re all walking,” Aaron replies swiftly, jabbing a finger in the direction of a group of five guys, including Harry, a staggering Jerry, and Brad.

As my eyes slide past the two other familiar boys from school – both on the football team, I vaguely remember – they land on a stiff Brad.  Something about him seems a bit off to me, but I shrug it off immediately, blaming it on the alcohol.  I mustn’t be seeing things right.  After all, doesn’t vodka affect the senses?  Maybe that’s why there is a strange nagging feeling in the back of my mind as I look over Brad.  Isn’t there something I’ve been meaning to ask him?

“Bye, Emily!” Verity’s shrill squeal cuts across my thoughts.  Her arms wrap around me tightly in a hug before letting me go.  “See you in school!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” Jerry’s drunk shout sounds across the room, interrupting any goodbyes.  It’s a surprise he isn’t slurring, let alone passed out in a closet somewhere.  “Let’s go already,” he grumbles, turning around sharply and stumbling into the closed door.

I snigger as Harry has to help him up, opening the door for him, before carefully prodding him through with the help of one of the other guys.

“Ready?” Aaron asks, following through the door and closing it behind us without as much as a goodbye.

The cool air nips at my cheeks and the bare skin on my arms and legs begin to sprout goose bumps as a shiver sends my hairs upright.  “Are you sure we should be walking home?” I ask, worrying momentarily.

“Yeah,” he responds nonchalantly, apparently unbothered by the sudden chilliness and the dark blanket consuming us.

I shrug, believing him, as we continue down the street.  An occasional street lamp lights up the pavement as we go along, but our main source of direction are the boisterous shouting of Jerry and the guys in front of us.  With Aaron’s warm arm wrapped comfortingly around my waist, I can’t help but feel protected from anything that my mind may invent to be stalking me in the darkness.

Everything feels fine, until we turn into an assortment of back roads.  We’re halfway through when I hear the first noise – the soft scurry of footsteps from behind.  It’s as though all the alcohol in my system is seeping into a drain.  Fear courses through me as I snap my head around, eyes searching for the source of the noise.  Only darkness meets me.

I shake my head, turning back to the front.  “It’s only your imagination playing tricks on you,” I tell myself.

I almost convince myself so, until the sound of two low muffled voices creep out of an alleyway to my right.  My heart pounds, my grip tightening so that my hands hold claw-like onto Aaron’s arm for dear life.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron whispers, his voice sounding slightly annoyed at my sudden urge to cling onto him.

“Aaron,” I hiss in reply, refusing to let my eyes leave the pitch black alleyway as he pulls me onwards.  “I heard voices,” I whisper harshly.  I can feel my body shaking now, not from the cold this time, but from fear.  I’m definitely not imagining things this time.  Those voices are definitely not a figment of my imagination, and they definitely do not match the carefree chatter of Jerry’s in front.

“Don’t be silly,” Aaron’s reply is possibly the worst I could hear.  “There are some lights ahead anyway,” he points out.  I shift my gaze from behind us to in front.  Sure enough, the dull light of a street lamp’s filters through the gaps in the worn brickwork of the surrounding warehouses.

I nod, slightly comforted by the nearing light.  I loosen my grip on Aaron, slightly embarrassed by my reaction.  It’s probably just some other people making their way home from the party.

Relief floods through me as we come out of the narrow alley into a wider space.  A crossroad of sorts is lit by a half dozen street lamps.  Why they choose to put them here escapes me, as each path leads into four different paths, all as narrow as the one we have just escaped out of.

“See?  There was nothing to be scared of,” Aaron says, prising my hands from his as we step into the light.

Unfortunately, the second the words leave his lips, the sentence is proved to be very, very wrong.   From the shadows, a dozen hooded figures slink from the four alleyways, trapping our now small and outnumbered group in the centre of the crossroads, like a bunch of unfed rabbits surrounded by a pack of vicious foxes.

That in itself is something to be extremely scared of, not to mention the glint of a sharp blade sticking from the leader’s pocket as he takes a step forward, dark, hooded eyes looking over us maliciously.

“Well, look what we have here.”

*Prepares for the spazzing out in the comments*