Game On Read Online Free Page A

“I don’t know what y’all do. Hell, he probably would’ve screwed you in the front yard while his sisters watched, for all I know.”
    And this—this is where Becca was wrong. Because sometimes, he
is
straight-out mean.
    I slide off his lap before following through on the urge to junk-punch him. He shouts my name, but I stomp through the mud on the way to my car, the sounds of the party fading to a dim roar. I slide into the driver’s seat. Slam the door closed. Close my eyes and count to ten. Twenty. My breathing doesn’t relax until I reach fifty-six.
    Becca’s words reappear in my head, twisting and mingling with Matt’s, and I wish more than anything that my brain would just shut the hell up until the only words in my head are my own.
    You deserve better. Don’t be scared of being alone. Be more scared of someone sucking the life out of you.
    Don’t cry.
    You are so much stronger than you think.
    Don’t you dare cry.
    You don’t have to make ANYONE else happy. Make yourself happy.
    Tears spill on to my cheeks, faster and harder than the freaking Mississippi, and my chest clenches and there’s
no air
and why don’t they ever tell you about this part of loving people? Why don’t they ever tell you how much their words can hurt, how much they can seep into your brain and cloud every other thing that you thought you knew about yourself?
    Why don’t they tell you how hard it is to do what you know needs to be done?
    A sob escapes me as I grab my phone from the dashboard, where I tossed it after getting into the car with Eric. I glance at the empty passenger seat. Maybe tonight
was
my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have given him a ride home. I should’ve known better. I should’ve known it would piss Matt off.
    I wonder what life is like when you’re not living for other people’s happiness.
    With trembling fingers, I scroll through my phone’s contacts to call Becca. I can’t drive like this. I can’t sit here alone, either.
    My passenger door opens and I jump, the phone clattering to the floorboard. Matt’s eyes widen as they pass over my tear-streaked face. Sighing, he closes the door. My heart’s on standby, my chest tighter than a steel cage because the poor heart has no clue whether it’s in the car with Jekyll or Hyde.
    â€œBaby,” Matt breathes. “Baby, I’m sorry.” He takes my hand, pulling me toward him. Wraps me in a hug as the gear shift digs into my leg.
    And as always, I let him. I let him hug me, and I let him whisper that he’s sorry, and I let him cling to me like I’m the only girl in the world.
    I close my eyes. I don’t let any more tears fall. Not in front of him. Never in front of him.
    â€œI’ll forget all about it,” he whispers into my hair. “I forgive you.”
    And for some reason, those three words break through the brain fog. Those three words are all the confirmation I need. This needed to be over a long, long time ago. He shouldn’t have to
forgive
me for helping a friend. I shouldn’t be sobbing in my car at a party because he can’t keep his mouth shut.
    He shouldn’t be able to control my emotions like a freaking puppetmaster.
    But the problem is that, even when you know something needs to be done, it’s hard as hell to get the words out when you have the chance.
    Right now, I have the chance. I’m pulling away and staring into his eyes, but they’re back to that clear blue that make me want to stay. Those eyes switch so quickly between rage and love that my brain is confused as all get-out.
    He settles back against the seat and closes his eyes, lacing his fingers through mine beside the gear shift. And all I can do is stare at him, my mouth slightly open. My brain screams the words, but my heart keeps them tucked deep down. Because even when they’ve been beaten, hearts are stubborn.
    â€œMatt?” I