Read Online Gamed (A Standalone Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Romance) by Claire Adams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claire Adams
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trying to find someone
else," Owen said.
"You wanted
to break up freshman year?"
"It was
pretty easy to discover that Sienna and I did not like the same things,"
he shrugged.
"Then why
were you dating Sienna?" I
asked. I thought about my beautiful, perfect sister and my cheeks flared even
hotter. "Never mind."
"No, Quinn,
it wasn't like that. Sienna made things easy for me. I'm not a joiner, I don't
like being in the middle of things. I never would have experienced half of high
school if it wasn't for her. I would have been down here." He looked
around our basement family room.
"With
me?"
I was not ready
when Owen looked back. His blue eyes were too bright, his grip on my hand too
warm and tight. He leaned forward and the nearer he came, the less breath I was
able to capture. I sat airless and in the vacuum hope, excitement, and fear
fought. We couldn't do this, could we?
"Quinn? Are
you down there again?"
"Father?"
I asked. I dropped Owen's hand as if it had burned me.
"We're going
to order a pizza. Come up and join us," my father said.
I thought about
all the food from the funeral and realized the thought of it turned my stomach
as well. I had hardly eaten all day and pizza sounded good. Even though all my
father's invitations sounded like orders.
"I'll be up
in a minute." I turned to Owen and whispered. "Wait a couple of
minutes and go out the kitchen door."
He smiled and
patted my leg. "Don't worry. I've done this before."
In the kitchen, my
stomach was still fluttering with excitement. I felt as if my brain had no
control over my emotions anymore and I swung from one feeling to the next
without thought. Sienna was gone, I was still reeling in shock, and yet Owen
felt the same. About everything. All those years of longing and the feelings
might not have been unrequited. I clung to that joyful thought.
"Oh, there
you are, darling. I ordered the pizza with the sun-dried tomatoes. Just like
you like," my mother said.
"That was
Sienna," I said.
"Oh, yes,
sorry. I forgot you were home," my mother said. She poured a glass of
white wine. "There's a special on the bridges of Paris, your father
thought you might want to watch it while we eat. The pizza should be ready any
minute."
"That was
Sienna, too," I said. "You start without me and I'll go pick up the
pizza."
Sienna loved
Paris. It was her daydream city. Whenever she was feeling sad or pressured or
stressed, she made imaginary plans to go to Paris.
"It feels
good to think about leaving it all behind and going somewhere I've always
longed to go," Sienna had explained. "Where would you go? And you
can't say Paris."
"Las
Vegas," I had told her.
"We live in
Las Vegas."
"The Strip. All
the lights, all the people from other places," I had tried to explain.
"All the
flashing screens and video games?" Sienna had cocked an eyebrow at me. "You
sound just like Owen. He's always wanting to go there. I mean, it’s fun once or
twice, but I'm not into playing video games on wall-sized screens or whatever
it is you two like to do."
I fought the
overwhelming urge to get in the car and drive the 15 minutes to the Strip. People
who lived in and around Las Vegas generally avoided that area like the plague. To
me, it had a comforting aspect – like a part of my imagination come to life. And
it did not hurt that no one there knew me or Sienna or what had happened.
#
" If you're ready now, we can take the long way into town. I
know you love that drive," my father said. He strolled into the kitchen,
checking his watch.
"That was
Sienna," I said. "Sienna liked to take the long way because she had a
dream house picked out on top of the hill."
Summerlin was a relatively small community, so the long way was actually just a tour of
the neighborhoods. The houses were impressive and it was fun to drive at night
and peek into other people's lives.
The pizza place we
liked was only a few minutes away, but Sienna and my father were sometimes gone
for nearly 45 minutes. They
else," Owen said.
"You wanted
to break up freshman year?"
"It was
pretty easy to discover that Sienna and I did not like the same things,"
he shrugged.
"Then why
were you dating Sienna?" I
asked. I thought about my beautiful, perfect sister and my cheeks flared even
hotter. "Never mind."
"No, Quinn,
it wasn't like that. Sienna made things easy for me. I'm not a joiner, I don't
like being in the middle of things. I never would have experienced half of high
school if it wasn't for her. I would have been down here." He looked
around our basement family room.
"With
me?"
I was not ready
when Owen looked back. His blue eyes were too bright, his grip on my hand too
warm and tight. He leaned forward and the nearer he came, the less breath I was
able to capture. I sat airless and in the vacuum hope, excitement, and fear
fought. We couldn't do this, could we?
"Quinn? Are
you down there again?"
"Father?"
I asked. I dropped Owen's hand as if it had burned me.
"We're going
to order a pizza. Come up and join us," my father said.
I thought about
all the food from the funeral and realized the thought of it turned my stomach
as well. I had hardly eaten all day and pizza sounded good. Even though all my
father's invitations sounded like orders.
"I'll be up
in a minute." I turned to Owen and whispered. "Wait a couple of
minutes and go out the kitchen door."
He smiled and
patted my leg. "Don't worry. I've done this before."
In the kitchen, my
stomach was still fluttering with excitement. I felt as if my brain had no
control over my emotions anymore and I swung from one feeling to the next
without thought. Sienna was gone, I was still reeling in shock, and yet Owen
felt the same. About everything. All those years of longing and the feelings
might not have been unrequited. I clung to that joyful thought.
"Oh, there
you are, darling. I ordered the pizza with the sun-dried tomatoes. Just like
you like," my mother said.
"That was
Sienna," I said.
"Oh, yes,
sorry. I forgot you were home," my mother said. She poured a glass of
white wine. "There's a special on the bridges of Paris, your father
thought you might want to watch it while we eat. The pizza should be ready any
minute."
"That was
Sienna, too," I said. "You start without me and I'll go pick up the
pizza."
Sienna loved
Paris. It was her daydream city. Whenever she was feeling sad or pressured or
stressed, she made imaginary plans to go to Paris.
"It feels
good to think about leaving it all behind and going somewhere I've always
longed to go," Sienna had explained. "Where would you go? And you
can't say Paris."
"Las
Vegas," I had told her.
"We live in
Las Vegas."
"The Strip. All
the lights, all the people from other places," I had tried to explain.
"All the
flashing screens and video games?" Sienna had cocked an eyebrow at me. "You
sound just like Owen. He's always wanting to go there. I mean, it’s fun once or
twice, but I'm not into playing video games on wall-sized screens or whatever
it is you two like to do."
I fought the
overwhelming urge to get in the car and drive the 15 minutes to the Strip. People
who lived in and around Las Vegas generally avoided that area like the plague. To
me, it had a comforting aspect – like a part of my imagination come to life. And
it did not hurt that no one there knew me or Sienna or what had happened.
#
" If you're ready now, we can take the long way into town. I
know you love that drive," my father said. He strolled into the kitchen,
checking his watch.
"That was
Sienna," I said. "Sienna liked to take the long way because she had a
dream house picked out on top of the hill."
Summerlin was a relatively small community, so the long way was actually just a tour of
the neighborhoods. The houses were impressive and it was fun to drive at night
and peek into other people's lives.
The pizza place we
liked was only a few minutes away, but Sienna and my father were sometimes gone
for nearly 45 minutes. They
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