SIXTEEN #2
When we played Call of Duty, Tanner treated every match like a military operation.
He crawled into bushes, perched on rooftops, and spent half the game waiting for the perfect shot.
Me? I had the attention span of a fucking grenade.
I preferred charging headfirst into the chaos, automatic rifle blazing, racking up kills before anyone knew what had hit them.
So far, I’d ruined four of his carefully planned snipes. Oops.
The fifth nearly gave him an aneurysm.
While Tanner was busy swearing vengeance, I was distracted, thumb hovering over my phone. Amelie’s name glowed on the screen like a warning light. We’d argued earlier, and despite the alcohol buzzing through my veins, the urge to message her kept clawing its way to the front of my mind.
That moment of distraction cost us as a burst of gunfire ripped through my headphones. My character hit the ground. Seconds later, Tanner followed as we got kicked out of the match for my inactivity. Double oops.
Silence. I counted to three: one, two… three.
Then came the meltdown.
“What the hell were you doing?” he barked.
What could I say in my defence? I was drunk. Pissed off. And still replaying every word of my fight with Amelie.
The gaming room—officially named The Den—sat directly behind my father’s office, a fact that irritated him to no end.
Whenever the lads were over, the place became a war zone of its own.
Empty takeaway cartons littered the floor, the air carried the lingering smell of weed, and the room echoed with shouting, laughter, and endless debates about everything from football to the last girl we fucked.
Cameron constantly complained that he couldn’t concentrate on balancing his books due to the racket.
Like I gave a shit. The Den was my space; unlike the pool house, which he’d divvied out to Adam fucking Thorn.
I thought back to Amelie’s suggestion that I had contrived the party to piss him off. What the actual fuck?
Yanking off my custom-made SteelSeries Nova Pros, I stretched my arms above my head and inhaled. No matter how many times our housekeeper cleaned the room, there was always that faint smell of marijuana mixed with an overpowering blast of Tanner’s body spray.
Pushing back into the chair, I glanced proudly around the space.
The walls were painted neutral colours, the carpet was well-worn, as were the dark leather sofas and chairs scattered around my mother’s old reclaimed-wood coffee table.
It was currently buried under a chaotic landscape of empty beer cans, discarded crisp packets, and tangled controller wires.
On the main wall, there was a massive mounted television, and beneath it was a shelf overflowing with a sprawling collection of game cases (none of the games was in the right cases – another bugbear of Tanners) and charging docks.
It was a guy's space. Even Jessa stayed away. Although the no-girls-allowed zone suddenly shifted as Amelie Thorn appeared in the doorway.
I sat up so fast the controller slipped from my lap and clattered onto the floor. I quickly removed my headphones.
She walked into the room looking like a fucking angel. The black fitted dress hugged every curve. It gave her a sexy secretary look. For a second, the noise around me faded into the background, and she was all I saw.
The only thing I didn't appreciate was the way her arm was threaded through Weston's. I shoved that irritation down before it could show.
Quickly pocketing my phone, I pushed to my feet a little too fast. The room tilted from the alcohol buzzing through my system, but I steadied myself and grabbed a beer from the cooler behind me.
Twisting off the cap, I kept my eyes fixed on hers, refusing to acknowledge Weston at all. "Welcome to the dark side," I said.
My voice came out rougher than I'd intended. Holding out the bottle, I raised an eyebrow. "Beer?" I expected her to refuse. Instead, she slipped her arm free from Weston's and took it.
Our fingers brushed against each other as her hand wrapped around the cold glass.
A tiny touch and you may think, so what, that’s nothing. To me in that moment, it was fucking everything.
Amelie’s eyes flickered, and the pulse in my neck kicked up a gear. She'd felt it too.
"Hey, you joining us, baby girl?" Tanner called out from his usual chair. It was the closest one to the screen. Fucker needed glasses, not that he’d ever admit that shit.
"We've come to show you losers how the game should be played," Weston said with a grin, gesturing toward the seating area. My little stray lingered where she stood. There was uncertainty in her posture, almost like she was considering making a run for it.
Not a fucking chance.
I didn’t know why, but my throwing the party had already screwed things up between us that night. I wasn't letting her disappear before I had the chance to fix it.
Spinning around, I swept a hand across the leather sofa, brushing aside crisp packets and crumbs.
"Have a seat, princess."
Weston grabbed himself a beer and dropped into the chair opposite Tanner without a second thought.
Perfect. That left one space beside Amelie, and I claimed it before anyone had second thoughts about where they wanted to sit. The move was so fast, like musical chairs when the music stops.
As I settled beside her, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume, Weston nodded toward the controller still clutched in Tanner's hand. With a dramatic sigh, Tan passed it over.
"Take it," he grumbled. "It's not like he's any use as a teammate anyway."
I smirked and gave him the middle finger. I didn't give a shit about the game just then, and I plucked my controller off the floor and handed it to Amelie.
Her scent lingered in my nostrils, that coconut stuff she used in her hair; delicious. I watched as she kept her eyes on the loading screen, clutching the controller I had been using earlier.
“Here,” I began, pushing my thighs closer to hers so I could take her through the controls.
After a pretty sip of beer, Amelie placed the bottle on the table and twisted her head to look at me.
We were so close, and I loved how good that made me feel, even though I was still half-fried.
Thoughts of my mother resurfaced, but not bad ones.
I knew that Mom would have loved Amelie.
She would have considered her girlfriend material.
And so would you if you’d get your head out of your arse!
As I showed Amelie how to aim and fire the gun, I slid my thumb over her pulse point, and her lips parted.
“Do you think you’ve got it?”
She gave me a shy smile. “I think so.”
“Games up!” Weston shouted as the loading screen bled into a new round. “Amelie, I’ve got your six,” he added.
I leaned back in the seat, watching Amelie’s side profile as she concentrated on following Weston into the battle zone.
I noticed how her tongue would poke out from between her lips as she attempted to shoot members of the opposing team.
Her aim was crappy as you’d expect it to be, being her first go, but she soon got the hang of it.
After an hour or so, Tanner made his excuses and headed out for a smoke, leaving the three of us behind.
By then, Amelie had shifted so close she was practically in my lap.
A few people from the party had joined to watch on and off, but from the sounds of things, it was much calmer outside than earlier.
We eventually switched to Mario Kart, and Amelie wiped the floor with us. While she effortlessly took first place loop after loop, I spent most of every match spinning out of control on banana peels dropped by Weston or getting pounded by red turtle shells. During the game, I’d sobered up somewhat.
As Weston and Amelie were laughing and taking the piss out of my poor performance, Tanner popped his head in and announced that the party was winding down. I checked the time on my phone, and it was only eleven.
Standing up, I offered my hands for Amelie and pulled her to her feet. She swayed slightly, although I knew she wasn’t drunk. Steadying her, I placed my hands on her waist.
“I’ll go help Tanner,” Weston muttered from somewhere behind us, clearly feeling like the third wheel. Good. Bye-bye then.
“So now we’re friends again, would you please tell me how it went with your parents tonight?” I asked. I knew she didn’t like to talk about them, but I had to say something.
“It was fine. My father decided he didn’t want to see us at the last minute. Couldn’t face us more like. Anyway, I do feel better for going.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I feel some sense of closure, I suppose. Mum looked horrible,” she said, looking sad. My hands were itching, desperate to pull her in for a hug. Anything to wipe that look off her face.
“Closure? So, you forgive her?” I realised that I still didn’t really know what her mother had done. Aiding and abetting her dad? Maybe she’d also been in the car that hit Rebecca.
“I’m not sure. I think it’s more about expectations, and in that I mean I no longer have any. For her, I mean. Yes, she’ll always be my mom, but I’m going to get on with my life without her, I think.”
“That’s really brave.”
“Well, you seem to have done OK for yourself.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure about that.” I admitted, realising that the rift between my father and me was mainly my doing. “How was Adam?”
“I don’t know. My brother is a hard one to read. Unpredictable. I think he’s fine now, though,” she responded with a huff because she clearly wasn’t.
“Some people hide their feelings, Amelie. He may not be coping as well as you think.” Fuck knew why I was standing up for the prick.
Amelie raised an eyebrow as she explained, “Well, considering he arrived at the party and then got off with Halo within seconds of his arrival, I’d say he’s on the mend.”
Fuck. That didn’t sound good. “Really?”