Heartless Player by R.C. Stephens

Ten

Wolfe

I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m drawn to this girl like a magnet, but it’s not only that. We talk. We confide in each other. I don’t talk to anyone about my family, so I don’t know why I’ve chosen her to dump all my problems on. And even more, she cares. She understands me, and it’s fucking weird. I don’t bring girls back to my place to do homework. I bring them back here to fuck them, to bring them and myself pleasure. But Rebel is different. I don’t know if it’s because I know she would never put up with my bullshit, or the fact that I actually took the time to get to know her and I never get to know anyone. Getting close to people usually makes me feel itchy. Like I’m setting myself up for disappointment.

I quickly glance at Rebel over my laptop. She doesn’t notice me looking and I take her in. Those exotic blue eyes that are slightly slanted, her bow-shaped lips, the warmth and kindness that emanate from her. It’s not just beauty that’s drawing me in, and that’s what scares the shit out of me. Her hair falls over her shoulders in soft silky tendrils, and I wonder what it would feel like if she was riding me, her strands brushing my chest. My eyes draw to her chest. Man, she has great tits. My thoughts are giving me a semi.

“Everything okay?” she asks as she catches me staring at her.

“Hmm? Yeah.” I lift my gaze to hers, feeling like I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Shifting in my seat, I smile awkwardly. Then I have to remind myself that seducing her would be a terrible, awful idea because she isn’t that kind of girl. “I’m just having a hard time focusing.” It isn’t a lie.

“Me too,” she says, surprising me. Was she thinking of ripping my clothes off? “I can’t believe that jerk thinks he can just hang out at my house when my sister isn’t there. It must mean that things are getting serious between them.”

Okay, we clearly aren’t on the same page. Be a good friend. Keyword being “friend.”

“I wonder what his deal is. Maybe he’s a mooch,” I say.

“He was sitting at our kitchen table shoveling eggs into his mouth when I left. He’s just made himself at home. My sister said something about him going to his sister’s place for Thanksgiving, but he was weird about it. I don’t know, but I get these vibes like he’s a lying asshole. I hate liars,” she says.

“The guy sounds like trouble. I don’t like him hanging out at your place either,” I say, feeling a sense of protectiveness over her. I don’t know what’s happening. It’s not the same kind of protectiveness I feel over Caitlyn. This feels like I’m going alpha. Claiming my girl. Only, she isn’t mine and never will be.

“I really need to speak with Blossom,” she says. “I can’t go on being uncomfortable in my own home.”

“That isn’t fair of your sister. She needs to open her eyes and see what’s going on,” I agree.

Her cell buzzes and she starts texting someone.

“Boyfriend?” I ask. Shit! Why did I ask that? Stupid. I shouldn’t care if she has a boyfriend, and if she did, it would probably be someone like that Coffee Bean guy.

“No, my best friend Holland. I was supposed to go to her place for dinner later on with Blossom, but since Blossom isn’t going, I…” She pauses and continues to type.

“I just told her I was here hanging out with you and she asked if you wanted to join us for dinner,” she says, surprising me.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m good hanging here.”

She texts again and then looks up at me. “She says the offer stands if you change your mind.”

“Okay. Do you want to watch a movie or something? I can’t focus on my work,” I say.

“Sure. I can’t really focus either,” she says, standing up. I try not to look at her prosthesis, but a part of me is curious. If Cait’s surgery would work, she could be walking around just like Rebel. The thought is fleeting. I realize it was her prosthesis that first caught my attention, but now that we’ve been hanging out, I don’t want the prosthesis to be my focus anymore. I could just imagine how pissed Cait would be if she knew a guy wanted to get to know her so he could learn more about her disability.

Guilt gnaws inside me like a termite eating away at the walls of a house when I realize that’s how Rebel and I got here; because I was interested in her for the wrong reasons.

We head back into the living room and Rebel takes a seat on the couch.

“That’s a really nice television.” She nods her head in the direction of the TV.

“Thanks. It belongs to Cole. Anything nice we have came from his dad,” I explain.

I take a seat beside her but leave at least half a cushion of space between us. The friend zone is where we need to stay. My feelings, or whatever the hell is happening to me, are messing with my head, but this… us… we can’t be anything. I don’t commit. She’s too good to accept anything less.

“What do you want to watch?” I ask, scrolling through Netflix.

“I don’t know. What are the options?”

“What type of movies do you like?” She shivers.

“You cold?”

“Yeah.” She nods. I’d offer to warm her up but… no. Friends. Remember friendship and all things platonic. It’s like my mind isn’t getting the memo.

“I’ll go grab a blanket,” I offer, needing some space. I get up off the couch and run up to my room.

I come back down and pass her a soft red and black plaid Sherpa blanket. “This is the best blanket ever,” I tell her.

I place it on her.

“So, movies,” I say, rubbing my hands on my thighs because they feel a little sweaty.

“I’m good with almost anything except horror or heavy violence,” she says.

“Have you seen Money Heist? Cole keeps talking about it, but it’s a series, so if you’re worried about getting addicted…”

“No, that sounds good. I’ve heard good things too. I wasn’t going to start it because I can’t help myself. I’ll binge the crap out of it and I don’t have the time,” she says.

“Me too,” I agree. “But I figure we have all day.” I watch her cheeks flush at my words.

Her teeth dig into her lower lip and I want to reach over and kiss those lips.

Gah. It’s like my mind has become one-tracked, as in get Rebel in my bed.

I start the show and she looks over at me. “Did you want to share the blanket? It’s big enough,” she offers.

“Thanks,” I say, knowing I should’ve said no. Getting close to her is only going to make me want her more. I don’t even know if she feels the same way. Yet, something tells me she’s attracted to me too. The way she sometimes watches me intently when we speak, and I’ve seen her checking me out in the gym.

We get pulled into the show and we watch three episodes straight.

“I warned you that I had no self-control.” I laugh. “We should not have started this. I need to be focusing on school and hockey.”

“I know. I can’t be staying up late watching shows either. Finals will be starting in a couple of weeks.”

My stomach grumbles and she looks at me. I can’t believe we’re sitting here under the covers, watching TV together. I don’t do this weird couple thing. Only, we aren’t a couple. She’s a friend. Maybe I’m just not used to having a girl as a friend. “I’m starving,” I announce and throw the blanket off me. Besides, taking in her strawberry scent and being so close to her is making me damn horny. Space is required.

“Me too,” she says. “I don’t know if Preston is still at my place. Maybe we can go back there and I can make us something,” she offers.

“Let me check what we got in the fridge,” I say and head to the kitchen.

Shit, get a fucking grip. I don’t remember ever wanting to take a girl to bed so badly.

The fridge is empty since none of us planned on being here this weekend. I walk back out to the living room. “Sorry, I thought we had some bread to make grilled cheese, but it seems that we don’t even have the basics.”

“The Firken is open,” she says. “I don’t think there’s a day in the year that Fred actually closes down except for Christmas Eve.”

“The Firken works for me.” I figure she doesn’t want to go back to her place if the douchebag is there.

She slips her Doc Martens on and I head to the door and put on my Blundstones. We get our jackets on and leave.

“Shoot. I didn’t bring my backpack with me. I can’t believe I left all my stuff at your place,” she says, raising her hand to her forehead.

“It’s fine. No one’s there to touch it and you can come back after we eat. We can watch more Money Heist if you’re up to it,” I say.

“Thanks. I keep my wallet in my jacket, so at least I have that.”

“And I could’ve paid for lunch,” I tell her.

She blushes.

We drive to the Firken and she tells me why she thinks Money Heist is a really good show. It was cute how she was on the edge of her seat for most of it. I felt pretty anxious too, wanting to know what was going to happen next.

We pull up to the Firken and, as predicted, there are only two cars in the lot.

When we walk in, it’s the owner behind the bar. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” he says to Rebel.

“Just came for a bite to eat,” Rebel says.

“Have a seat,” he says to us. “Matt will be out to take your order.”

“Oh, great,” she says as she shrinks into her chair.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she grumbles.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. We’re at a point in our friendship where you can tell me what your reaction is all about.”

“I hadn’t realized our friendship had come that far,” she teases.

I want to say I didn’t know either, but I want her to spill whatever made her uptight.

“Now, why did you flinch at that dude’s name?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Fine. I’ll tell you. Matt is always hitting on me. I told him I wasn’t into dating at all and he may misinterpret what is going on here.” She rolls her eyes.

So, if I was wondering where we stand, I’m now crystal clear. She’s friend zoned me too. It shouldn’t sting; I don’t want a relationship. I just want inside her. It just means that the prospect of that is slim to none.

“So, you’re into him.”

“Not at all. He’s nice, just not my type.”

“And what is your type?”

“It’s been so long since I was…”

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” She glances away and then back. “What’s your type, Wolfe?” she asks, clearly deflecting.

About five-five, blonde, gorgeous blue eyes.

“I don’t know that I have a specific type,” I answer. “I don’t do relationships. I can tell you that. My parents have a shit marriage. No way I’d ever go down that rabbit hole.”

“My parents were totally dysfunctional too, but I can still see myself settling down one day. Doesn’t mean we have to repeat their mistakes,” she says.

“So, you’re an optimist.”

“I prefer to say realist.”

We’re sitting across from the entrance and the door opens. Someone walks in wearing a black jacket with a hood, and when she takes it off, I see that it’s Tiffany.

Tiffany’s cheeks look crimson as she walks over to our table. “Hey there, Wolfe. Rebel. What are you all doing here on Thanksgiving?”

“Just grabbing lunch,” I say.

“I didn’t know you two were friends,” Tiffany says, looking between me and Rebel.

“We’re not,” Rebel says quickly. And, okay, I’m offended.

I give Rebel a “what the fuck” look. I think it’s safe to say that we definitely are friends.

“Well, I just came in for a bite. There’s nothing really open on campus and it just started snowing. I decided to stay in town instead of going home for the holiday,” Tiffany explains. Not that I care. She sees me as a piece of meat she wants to screw so she can go gossip to her friends about the size of my dick. I’d usually have been up for that pre-Rebel, but now…

“Do you want to join us for lunch?” Rebel asks her.

I give Rebel another “what the fuck” look.

“Oh, thanks, I actually wouldn’t mind the company. I’ll just go to the ladies’ room and freshen up,” Tiffany says, and she gives me a megawatt smile as her gaze lingers on me. Yup, she thinks we’re going to hook up.

Tiffany saunters off and I turn to Rebel. “What did you do that for?”

“People can’t see us together. They can’t know we’re friends. I don’t want that kind of attention,” she explains, blowing out a breath. This is why I like the girl, because she’s real and bullshit free.

“Now she’s going to be having lunch with us,” I clarify.

“Well, duh, I did invite her to join us,” she says.

“She’s going to think I want to hook up with her,” I whisper.

“Don’t you? I would think she’s your type.”

I tilt my head from side to side. “I’m not so sure.”

“I thought someone like you would always be sure.”

The cook comes out to take our order. “Hey, Rebel.” His lips spread from cheek to cheek.

“Hi, Matt,” Rebel says, looking like she wants to go hide somewhere.

“What can I get you?” he asks her, as if I’m not here.

“Um… I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries. I’ll take tomato and lettuce on the burger and a glass of Sprite,” she says.

“I’ll have the same,” I say to him. “But make my drink a Coke.”

He nods.

“I didn’t realize you had friends on the hockey team,” he says to her. Really, buddy?Go make our food. I’m starving and starting to feel grumpy.

“I don’t,” Rebel says with no further clarification.

Matt smiles at her and nods his head, clearly happy with her answer, just as Tiffany saunters back over to our table. She’s taken off her jacket and I can see she’s wearing a tight long-sleeve shirt that exposes her stomach and a pair of leggings that show all her curves. Rebel was right. I’m usually down with that type, but now I feeling nothing.

“Can I get you something?” Matt asks Tiffany.

“Uh…” She taps her red manicured nail on the table and takes a seat beside me. The table is square so I have Rebel on my other side. “I’ll have the turkey club, please. No mayo and a side salad instead of the fries.”

Rebel slinks into her chair.

“So, how’s it going?” Tiffany asks. She leans over the table. Her shirt has a deep V in the front and it exposes a lot of cleavage.

“Fine,” Rebel answers. “Studying for finals.”

“Yeah, me too,” Tiffany says with wide brown eyes. “This year has been a real doozy. I was thinking of heading back to Georgia, but I decided it’s better to stay behind and study.”

“Nice,” I say. Having Tiffany sit with us is a real downer because now Rebel and I can’t talk about things that actually matter, like when she’s going to sit her sister down and get her to kick that a-hole out of the house.

There’s an awkward silence at the table until Matt brings our food.

“Looks good. Thanks, man,” I say to him.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he says, and his gaze lingers on Tiffany’s chest.

I take the first bite and groan. “I love their burgers.”

Rebel sits and stares at her food. “Aren’t you gonna eat?” I ask her.

“Yeah.” She blinks twice and then lifts her burger.

“You’re so lucky you can eat stuff like that and still stay so slim,” Tiffany says to her. “I have to watch everything I eat. And if I don’t work out, I swear I blow up like a balloon.”

We continue to eat our food.

“I work out too,” Rebel says. “And I walk a lot.” She side-eyes me. Maybe because I keep offering her rides. She offers me the slightest of smiles, like we’re in on our own personal secret, and for some reason, I like it.

“Oh, I see you working out at the gym. It always amazes me,” Tiffany says to her.

Rebel’s chewing slows and then she puts her burger down.

“I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?” Tiffany asks innocently, but I’m not so sure how innocent it really was considering her tone right now.

“Excuse me.” Rebel stands and slowly walks away from the table. Whatever she’s feeling right now feels like a stab to my chest. At first, it was because I would think of Cait in that position, and I guess I was curious. But now I’ve gotten to know Rebel and I don’t like that people see her disability instead of her when they look at her.

I give Tiffany the stink eye. “What?” she asks when Rebel is out of earshot.

“Nothing,” I mumble and bite into my burger.

She places her sandwich down and leans toward me. “If you aren’t busy later and you’re looking to have some fun, I’m free. In fact, I’m available every night this weekend,” she says. I appreciate her confidence and I’m totally cool with a woman taking the lead and propositioning me. I’m just not into her.

“I’m busy this weekend,” I mutter.

“Why are you being so cold?” Tiffany asks, her lips turning down. “Don’t you remember the party at Alpha Sigma Phi?”

I draw a blank.

“The weekend you got your cast put on,” she clarifies. “You showed up with crutches,” she continues. “OMG.” She tilts her head back. “You don’t remember having sex with me?”

Fuck. This isn’t good. I’m basically telling her she isn’t memorable. Dammit. I hope Rebel doesn’t come back right now, because I don’t want her thinking poorly of me. I have a “holy shit” moment at the realization. I want Rebel to think I’m good. Worthy. What is wrong with me? I need to shut this Tiffany thing down fast. “I’m sorry, Tiffany. The weekend I got injured, I was angry and got pissed drunk. I don’t remember anything,” I say to her and watch as her face morphs into disgust. My words aren’t working. “Seriously, it’s not you. It’s me. I was messed up over some things and—”

“Then we should rectify that?” she asks, her scrunched up features smooth out and her lips curve into a seductive smile.

Shit. Shit. Why am I freaking out over her advances?

Because Rebel can come back from the washroom and get the wrong idea and that’s the last thing you want. But how do I brush Tiffany off respectfully? It’s not something I’ve worried about in the past. Yet my palms are sweaty as fuck.

“I don’t think so. And it’s not that I don’t find you attractive, I just need to take a step away from all the hookups,” I say, not recognizing my own voice. Who am I?

You’re trying to be a better person, Wolfe,a voice inside my head says, and I know it’s because of Rebel. I want to be good enough for her.

“Why?” Tiffany asks. Geez. This girl won’t take a blatant hint. “Are you into Rebel?” Her lip pulls up on one side like the thought is incomprehensible to her.

I rub my palms against my jeans, removing the buildup of sweat. “That isn’t any of your business, and I just need time because of personal issues I’m dealing with.” Fuck, why won’t she lay off? It’s none of her damn business, and Rebel clearly doesn’t want people to know we’re friends.

She leans back in her chair and watches me like she’s seeing me for the first time. I want to tell her to get lost because she’s hitting my last nerve.

Rebel walks up to the table and I smile at her. I also pray that Tiffany will shut the fuck up.

She smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes the way it usually does. She takes a seat and eats her burger quietly until Tiffany asks her questions about some classes they have together. Tiffany then goes on to ask Rebel for some of her notes. Rebel agrees. Tiffany finishes eating.

My mood has sunk and so has Rebel’s. I hate to see Rebel deflated because of Tiffany. She shouldn’t let people get to her like that. I figure it’s because of Tiffany’s comment about her leg, which seems to be a sore spot. I also understand that I may be more sensitive to Rebel’s feelings because I’ve seen what Cait has been through.

Tiffany finishes eating and throws a twenty on the table. “That should cover my part,” she says. “Thanks for the company.”

“Bye,” Rebel says to her.

I’m in no mood to talk to her nosy ass at all, so I give her a brief nod and mutter goodbye.

“Do you need a ride?” she asks Rebel.

“I’m good,” Rebel says.

Tiffany looks between Rebel and me like we’re rats in a lab. Then she focuses on me and says, “Maybe I’ll be seeing you around this weekend, Wolfe.”

“I’m busy,” I tell her. I don’t owe her an explanation if I’m not into tapping that again.

She huffs a bit, feigning offense. Not much I can do about that.

Tiffany leaves and I turn to Rebel. “You can’t let people like her get to you.”

“I’m not,” she says, but I can see the truth.

“Fine. I’m just saying.”

“Did you make a plan to meet up with her?” she asks, surprising me. Although, by her tone, she sounds a little hurt.

“I told her I was busy.”

Rebel nods and her phone buzzes. She picks it up.

“Oh no,” Rebel says.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“It’s Holland. Her father had an emergency with a patient at the hospital and he bailed on Thanksgiving dinner, but she still wants me to come.”

“Damn,” I say. Parents can be so messed up.

“You should come with,” Rebel says. “I wasn’t scheduled to go over there until seven thirty. Her father uses the best catering company and the turkey is always amazing.”

“I’m usually not one to pass up a good meal,” I say. But it would be weird to spend Thanksgiving with Rebel and her best friend. “I should really catch up on my work,” I finally say. I can’t believe I was actually considering it.

“You sure?” she asks again, this time her lips forming a pout. A very kissable pout.

“Yeah, but thanks.” I smile.

She goes back to texting her friend.

“Is it okay if Holland picks me up from your place?” she asks.

“Sure. We can watch more Money Heist while we wait,” I say, waggling my brows.

Rebel smiles and it hits me in the center of my chest, making me feel warm. She goes on to text her friend and I peek at her phone, seeing my address and a response from Holland that says “Holy shit. I can’t believe I’m picking you up from Wolfe Judd’s place.” I don’t say anything and Rebel doesn’t seem all that fazed either.

I pay for her burger and then we head back to my place.

In the car, she turns and says to me, “You know, I really don’t get why people call you a heartless player.”

I don’t have a legit answer, so I shrug and think of Tiffany, because she would definitely agree that I’m a heartless player.