When whiplash isn't
just an injury.

.

.

Thanks to:
Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game
Chapter 13

The repetitive pop of rubber balls hitting walls echoed as I raised my racket and swung at my own ball. It whacked satisfyingly against the far wall and hit the floor, and Rose swung her racket against it in a fierce return.

"How's it going with Boss Man?" she asked, and the ball zipped past me in a blur of color.

Damn it.

I caught the elusive thing, glaring at Rose. Ever since our college days when I had trouble talking about what was bothering me, Rose had pushed racquetball on me. According to her, racquetball was the only sport where you could simultaneously be looking at the ball and it would still hit you on the back of the head at ninety miles an hour. It was her wake up and smell the damn coffee cure-all.

While I appreciated the sentiment, racquetball was not one of my strengths. Neither was talking while I was trying to concentrate on not being tagged.

"Fine, I guess." I answered her question about Edward. "He's finally stopped pressing me to talk about the past," I replied with a grunt as I sent the ball flying again.

"Oh ho," she said, scrambling crablike to the side to make her return volley. "He's giving you a bit of peace then?"

I grunted as I whacked the ball down the court, but it was off-center and didn't make it back across the line.

Peace wasn't exactly what I'd say Edward was giving me. It felt more like rejection. Like a blank wall of heavy silence. If I thought he'd been ignoring me before, it was nothing compared to what I'd been experiencing for the last few weeks.

"He's ghosting me," I said, as she teed up for another serve. "Never even looks my way anymore."

"That's what you've wanted from the beginning, though."

Yeah. Or so I thought.

Now that he was avoiding me, it stirred up all kinds of feelings. Number one being shock, because apparently, he'd changed his mind about avoiding me. Number two being confusion, because I shouldn't care, followed by anger because I did, morphing into plain ole hurt.

When he walked by my cubicle now, he didn't even glance my way. Not even if I happened to be talking at the time. More times than not, he walked between the cubicles of other rows, taking the long way around to or from his office. And he had to know I'd notice, especially since I'd made such a point of it with him before.

Thoughts about his puzzling behavior plagued my mind often. Was he acting that way because of Tanya, or was it really because of me? Had he run out of patience? Was he truly backing off? Giving up on me?

Why did that idea fill me with such despair?

Which meant I was the worst hypocrite ever, because I knew I'd shut him down repeatedly. And now that he was doing what I wanted, I was discovering it didn't seem to be what I wanted at all.

I felt as if I was torn in two; I felt unhinged. I'd been given exactly what I'd asked for, and had found it painfully empty. My spirits were lower than they'd been in a long time. I was having trouble concentrating at work and sleeping at night.

Edward had always been so responsive toward me, eager to humor me, almost bending over backward to show me who he was today. But the complete blank wall he was with me now made me want to bang my head against it. Or maybe to tear it down.

"I don't like being ignored deliberately." I huffed in answer to Rose's statement, driving the ball down the court with all my might. When the ball shot immediately off the wall into the side of my thigh, Rose chortled in laughter.

"Your aim is for shit when you're pissed."

I bent at the waist, hands on my knees, glaring at the ball between my feet.

"So, you don't want him to ignore you?"

"No. Yes! I don't know," I growled. "I just don't like who he is lately."

"You didn't like him before, either."

Since it was Rose's serve, I tapped the ball with my toe and sent it back her way.

"No, I didn't like him when he was a teenager. He's okay now. But . . . just not lately. He's changed."

I straightened, watching as she bounced the ball between her racket and the floor. "So, you don't think it's you who's changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem less prickly toward him lately. You're not complaining about him like you used to."

"Maybe because it's all internal," I answered.

"You know, whatever you go after, you'll get," she said with a wink.

She sounded like a fortune cookie.

"What?"

"If you're looking for anger, that's what you'll get. If you're searching for answers, that's what you'll find. Seems to me that you haven't decided what you really want when it comes to Edward, so you're stuck in confusion. Now, hit that ball if you can!" she said and lobbed her serve.

I did, and she immediately whacked it back down the opposite side of the court, forcing me to chase the ball's path. I caught it just barely before sending it back, and we volleyed it a few times before I missed again.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this distracted," Rose said. "You must be tied up in more knots than a pretzel."

"I'm just not in the mood," I grumbled as she swung the racket again.

"Focus!" Rose yelled. "I want a workout. Hit the ball! Pretend it's Edward's head."

"I'm not that violent!" I huffed as I leaped over and caught her serve.

"No, just confused, right?"

"Right."

She whacked the ball. "So talk to him."

I leapfrogged a couple of steps to whack it back.

"You won't get anywhere until you do," she added.

"He's giving me the silent treatment," I reminded her.

"Maybe he's decided to leave it all up to you," she countered.

Which made sense. Maybe he was. That made me wonder if he was trying to force my hand, or was simply respecting my wishes. But that would take a leap of faith on his part, considering how he thought I was content with the current status quo.

I hit the ball, pretending it was the manifestation of all my frustration, and felt the resounding jolt all the way up to my shoulder.

"I'm in limbo." I huffed. "And I hate it."

"So do the limbo. Take a step. It's supposed to be good for us to do something scary every day."

Every day? "I used up my quota when I took this job."

"Bullshit. You've got more guts than anyone I know."

"You're my friend. You're biased."

She shot the ball back sharply, and I missed it by a yard.

"Yes, but I also know what you've been through. Stop selling yourself short."

"Sorry," I panted, bringing my racket up to bounce the netting against my head. "I don't mean to be such a pain in the ass."

"You're not. Damn it, Bella. Why are you being so hard on yourself?"

Her question brought me up short. "Am I?"

"Yes! You know I love you to hell and back, but your attitude could use some work. You're in the dumps, girl."

It was the same thing she'd said to me years ago soon after I'd moved to Chicago.

"I'm in the dumps?" I asked in a small voice.

"So far down, you reek. Don't you smell it?"

I crossed my arms, the racket hanging at my hip. "I guess not. Guess I've gotten used to it."

"Well, now you know," she said, drawing back her arm to hit the ball again. "Get back into position. We're not done yet."

Her playing forced me to pay attention then, and I chased my frustration up and down the court, until I was sweaty and out of breath.

"There we go." Rose panted, tipping her water bottle back into her mouth.

I patted my towel against my forehead and temples, feeling my thighs quivering from exertion. "I'm done."

She grinned. "I know. You did good. You feel good?"

"I feel like sitting."

"You should probably shower first. Like I said earlier, you reek."

"You're hilarious."

We left the racquetball court and headed for the locker room, receiving glances from guys as we passed them. I felt gross and sweaty; my ponytail had fallen from its perch high at the back of my head to my neck, and long strands of hair fell over my left boob. What they saw in me now defied the imagination.

As we strolled across the floor where the weights were, I saw the big guy who worked in Accounting. From work. He was performing bicep curls while glancing between Rose and me with dawning recognition on his face. Wow, he was huge. Like a tree trunk. Muscles on top of muscles.

"Bella!" he exclaimed, dropping the dumbbells with a metallic clang.

"Uh," I said, biting my lip. I was horrible with names, but I definitely remembered him from karaoke night. He'd sung "My Way" by Frank Sinatra, moving up on stage in a very un-Sinatra-like way, probably making the man roll over in his grave. It had been truly horrible, but he'd somehow hammed it up perfectly, and everyone had loved him anyway.

"Emmett McCarty," he said. "Accounting geek?"

"Yes, right." I nodded. "I remember you."

He grinned boyishly. "I remember you, too. That was quite a dismount you did that night."

Figures he'd remember that.

"I'm pretty sure your performance topped mine," I drawled, and he threw his head back in laughter.

"Maybe so. I like to make an impression." He glanced to the side of me where Rose was standing, his eyes shining extra bright as his smile widened.

"This is my friend, Rosalie Hale."

Rose nodded at him, acting as if she was unaware of his obvious interest, but I could tell she was intrigued when she raised her hand and tried to smooth back her hair.

"If you two don't have plans tonight, a few of us from work are going to Moxy's Downtown on North La Salle," he said. "The DJ is cool, and you haven't really lived until you've had a Zombie taco while buzzing at midnight."

Rose crooked her eyebrow at me in a way that let me know I should seriously consider going.

"What time?"

"Come anytime after nine o'clock, and we'll be there."

"Okay, thanks," I said. "I guess we'll see you later then."

As we passed him, I saw Emmett give Rose a wink.

"He's awfully ballsy to give a girl he doesn't know a wink like that," she told me as we entered the club's locker room for women.

"Oh, that's nothing," I scoffed with a laugh. "You should have seen him trying to sing like Frank Sinatra while drunkenly trying to move like a boyband dancer."

. . . . .

Moxy's Downtown was a study of glass, black lacquered surfaces, brick walls, and hot pink overhead lighting. When we walked through the doors, the music was at a decibel of six—loud enough to get your head nodding, but not too loud to hinder conversation. The pink-hued crowd, which wasn't too overwhelming yet, made it no secret that we were being scrutinized as we moved throughout the room.

Rose and I had dressed to thrill, and we fit right in with the rest of the females with their skin on display. I was wearing a navy leather halter mini dress that knotted between my breasts, and Rose was in a black two-piece mini dress with a bikini top.

"Woah," I'd said when I saw her outfit. "Emmett doesn't stand a chance."

"Hey, I've got it, so I'm flaunting it. So are you, Tinkerbella. That dress is slamming with your hair color and skin tone."

My dress was a lot more subdued than hers—than most every girl's here—but hopefully, enough to catch the attention of a man interesting enough to bring home.

As we moved deeper into the room and closer to the pink backlit bar, someone reached out and tapped my bare shoulder.

Emmett.

"You made it," he said, as I met his smile with one of my own. He leaned in for a hug, and I realized he was already merrily buzzing. I saw him do a double take at Rose's outfit—actually jump—then he grabbed her close in a hug too.

Rose, who usually hated being touched by strangers, melted against him. I felt my mouth gape, then I was chuckling.

"My God, he gives the best hugs," she said into my ear. "It's like being pulled against a teddy bear's chest."

Emmett directed us over to the corner and a U-shaped black couch.

"This is Jake and Erik. Jake's a finance geek, and Erik's our IT Manager," he said, then bent my way. "Erik's practically engaged, so pick Jake."

I shook my head at him and mock-punched his arm.

Erik, who'd been perusing his phone, was Asian and brown-haired with a shy smile. Jake, I noticed, was the man Edward had shrugged aside when he'd tried to help me off the floor during the karaoke fiasco.

"Hello," Jake said, and stood as we approached. He was easily as tall as Emmett, although not as buff. Inky black hair covered his head in waves, and his smile was tentative. "You're on your feet this time."

"I'm never going to live that night down," I said with a wince.

"It was a memorable performance to begin with," Jake said with a laugh. "But yeah, I have to admit you cemented yourself in karaoke lore when you capped it with that exit."

"I think my performance should be good enough for the next five years of employee participation, don't you?" I asked, and he laughed, then asked what I wanted to drink.

After that, unfortunately, he stuck to my side like a burr. And it wasn't that I wasn't interested in him; it was that I was hoping to bring a guy home with me tonight. Of course, that idea was shot, unless he found someone else or drank himself into a stupor, which wasn't likely.

"Do you want to have dinner with me some night?" he shouted as the dancing began and the music volume climbed.

I tipped back the second appletini of the evening and gave him a look. "Jake, I don't think it would be a good idea to date anyone from work."

Frowning, he slid closer to me on the couch. "But we don't work together. I never even see you, Bella."

I glanced Rose's way, as Emmett led her onto the dance floor.

No help there.

"I'm sorry, Jake."

He tilted his head and gave me a look. "I'm not giving up."

Great.

"Let me get you a drink this time," I said and stood, politely trying to dismiss him. "I'll be right back."

Nope.

He followed me all gentleman-like over to the bar with its pink lowlights, his hand resting on the small of my back. As we moved past a chain of bodies, I caught sight of Edward's pointed, cool stare and stumbled.

Jake's hands were around my shoulders, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear. "Hey, you okay?"

In the next instant, someone crossed in front of me, blocking my view. I shook my head, wondering if I was seeing things, because no way was Edward there. But when the person had passed, there he was, wearing a black button-up dress shirt and dark jeans, standing with another man at a cocktail table across the room.

Once our eyes met again, I saw his gaze flick to Jake behind me, before he nodded his head and turned his face away.

Oh. Was he actually acknowledging me now?

"Shit. Cullen," I heard Jake yell in a definite unhappy tone as he pushed me gently forward.

I gave him a look of askance.

"We don't get along," he answered shortly.

"Funny. Neither do we," I murmured, too low for Jake to hear.

From the bar, I could see Edward and his good-looking friend in my peripheral vision. When a couple of scantily clad girls approached their table, I held my breath.

"What can I get you?" Someone repeated rather rudely, and I faced the woman behind the bar.

"Sorry," I said. "A Bud and an appletini."

Jake leaned in close, his mouth against my ear again. He wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't giving up.

"Thanks, Bella."

I slid my card out of my purse, watching as the blonde girl in a black cut-out sheath sidled close enough to Edward that their bodies meshed together. A moment later, she backed away with a scowl, then tugged sharply on the arm of her friend.

I giggled, enjoying the fact that Edward had apparently set the girl back on her heels. Obviously, he wasn't there on the take. Or if he was, the blonde wasn't his type. As I was wondering which it might be, his eyes met mine again, and my heart jumped.

"You're interested in Cullen?" Jake shouted painfully into my ear, and I spun to face him in shock and anger.

"What? No."

"Could've fooled me," Jake yelled, and he looked really angry.

Well, shitballs.

"I'm only looking his way because I know him," I explained. "Because I'm surprised to see him here!"

I also wanted to see what would happen with the girls.

The woman behind the bar set a bottle of Bud in front of us, and Jake grabbed it.

"You really suck at lying, and evidently, you have double standards. Thanks again for the beer," he growled at my face, then turned and walked away from me.

"Actually, I don't suck at lying," I said to his back.

And double standards? What the fuck had he meant by that? Just because I'd been eyeing Edward, I had double standards? So much for the nice guy act.

The man in line behind me cracked a grin at me. "Lovers' spat?"

He was wearing a printed T-shirt, so likely he was still in college and wet behind the ears. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it had me amending my earlier observation of man to boy. Not exactly my type.

"Foreplay," I snapped, and turned back around as he burst into laughter.

The barwoman was down at the other end of the bar talking to her coworker while shaking something in a silver mixing glass. Glancing back the other way revealed Edward was gone, but that his friend still held vigil at the table.

It took every ounce of my willpower not to comb the area immediately for Edward.

On my way back over to the couches in the corner, I swept the room for likely partners. Although I met a lot of interested eyes, not one of them caused a spark. Until I saw Edward again, when the spark lit a fire in my belly. He was talking to Emmett and Rose. Jake, thankfully, was nowhere in sight.

"Bella!" Emmett shouted as I drew close. "Look who's here! We've got a little company reunion going on!"

Rose gave me a wide-eyed expression, then fanned herself exaggeratedly.

Edward's smile disappeared as I approached, but before I could say a word to him, he'd turned back to Emmett. I didn't hear what he said, but then he was moving back and away, obviously not staying to hang out.

And he could have walked off to the left, but instead, he came right at me. His beautiful face was stoic, his eyes dismissive as he passed me. We might have been strangers.

"Bella," I think he said, but I couldn't be certain since he didn't bother to address me personally.

It rocked me. Again.

I felt cheated for some reason.

"You didn't tell me he was so good-looking," Rose yelled when I reached her.

I tilted my glass back and took a long drink, trying not to glance back the way he'd gone.

"Maybe I don't think he is," I told her illogically.

"Oh, I don't think there's any question," she replied with a laugh. "He actually seemed really nice, too."

"He is nice. Now," I yelled back. "So perfectly damn nice," I murmured to myself.

I lasted maybe five minutes before looking Edward's way again.

Same table. Same table mate. Only now, he was facing the other way, as if he didn't want to take the chance of our eyes meeting again.

Still giving me what I thought I wanted, I guessed.

I downed the rest of my appletini. "I'm leaving," I told Rose.

She gaped at me. "Already?"

"Jake's mad at me, Erik's practically engaged, and you've claimed Emmett."

And Edward is here and ignoring me, and I'm feeling sad and confused.

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry you're not having a good time. You'll call for an Uber?"

I hugged her hard. "I will, yes."

"Okay. Text me when you get home."

I laughed. "Text me when you get home."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "If things go as planned, that won't be until tomorrow."

Well, at least one of us would be getting lucky tonight.

Phone in hand, I headed for the exit. I could have passed by Edward's table with my nose in the air if I wanted, but perversely, I didn't want him to know I was leaving. I liked the idea of him thinking he was ignoring someone who wasn't even present anymore.

Of course, that plan backfired when I saw him leave.

Edward clapped the shoulder of the man he was with, then strolled quickly for the exit, weaving through the crowd of bodies without a backward glance.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was following behind him as fast as my heels—and everybody else in my way—would allow. I didn't know what I looked like, but from the expressions of the faces I saw, I was finally coming unhinged.

I felt like it.

When I arrived at the exit, I saw Edward had paused outside. I stopped abruptly, my fingers splayed across the glass of the door from the inside. One of his hands rose to comb through his hair, an unstudied model's move of grace, but the gesture was short and rough, suggesting agitation.

I saw the blue light from his phone and realized he was Ubering as well. Which meant his ride would be there in a matter of minutes.

Shoving the door open in a burst of energy, my heels clicked onto the pavement, catching Edward's attention. His surprise swiftly morphed into indifference as I advanced, which just pissed me off more.

"Fine," I yelled at him. "You win! You want to have it out? Let's have it out."

And I walked right up to him until only a few feet separated us and we were breathing the same air. His eyes were chipped jade gemstones in the dark, simmering with something as they lingered on my eyes and face.

He exhaled sharp and hard. "My place or yours?"