Gamed (A Standalone Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Romance) (7 page)

"I will,
Father. I'm just getting something to eat. I'm feeling light-headed,"
Quinn said.

The change was
instantaneous. As soon as her father appeared, Quinn became a pale shade of
herself. She said as little as possible, nodded while her father spoke, and her
sweet mouth turned down at the corners. I had seen it hundreds of times before.
Every time it happened, I wanted to punch Mr. Thomas in the face.

"Sienna would
have known how to handle herself," Mr. Thomas told his youngest daughter. "Pull
yourself together for her sake."

"Yes, Father.
Can I get you anything?" Quinn asked.

"No, but
maybe Owen here can explain why my wife is so upset," Mr. Thomas turned on
me.

It seemed obvious,
so I said nothing. The silence infuriated him, and I saw Quinn shrink back. Finally,
I relented. "She never approved of me and Sienna. I think maybe I should
go."

Behind her
father's ramrod straight back, Quinn caught my eye and shook her head. She
looked so sad, as if I was abandoning her. I imagined the limousine ride to the
cemetery. Her parents could not go five minutes on a regular day without
comparing her to Sienna. What would they say to her on the drive?

I held out my hand
to shake Mr. Thomas's in farewell. He ignored it and walked away.

"Are you
really going?" Quinn asked. "At least grab a sandwich or something
first."

I should have left,
but I followed her to the kitchen. The quiet caterers moved easily around
Quinn. Their manager came right over. "You want a plate, Ms. Thomas?"

"Yes, please.
Two. Whatever you've got," she said. She was anxious to retreat again. Her
eyes kept scanning the doorways.

"We're so
sorry for your loss, Ms. Thomas," the manager said. "It sounds like
your sister was an amazing person and you were following in her footsteps. Your
parents are lucky to have you."

Quinn gave me a
painful look. She had been surviving comparisons to Sienna all her life, but
today everything was compounded. "Let's hope I don't go too far,"
Quinn said.

The nearest server
fumbled a handful of silverware.

"How about a
little something from the bar, as well?" I said. I took Quinn's arm and
steered her back towards the basement.

"Quinn, what
on earth are you doing with him?" Mrs. Thomas hissed from the doorway.

"You mean
Owen?" Quinn spun to face her mother, the color bright on her cheeks. "Trying
to get through this awful day, same as you."

"Well, he
can't be helping," her mother said.

"How can you
say that? Don't you remember how many times Owen came to Thanksgiving? Nine. He
made the stuffing and the gravy at four," Quinn said. "And remember
who did all the touch-ups when you fired the painters? These walls would be
splotchy if he had not taken a whole day to fix them for you."

"
It's
okay, Quinn. I should go," I said.

"No. How can
they forget that you're my friend?" she asked. "You didn't like him
dating Sienna, but you had no problem with him driving me to Los Angeles. It
wasn't an issue when you scheduled a cruise during Sienna's cheerleading camp
week and Owen had to stay here so I wouldn't be alone."

"Really,
Quinn, you are just being silly. I'm sure it’s the stress of all this, but you
should stop before you make a fool of yourself," Mrs. Thomas said.

"A fool of
myself?" Quinn asked. "I'm not hunting around for someone to
blame."

Mrs. Thomas
gripped her narrow waist until her knuckles turned white. "He certainly
did not help Sienna, did he? You don't think she realized how close you two
were? You don't think we all knew about your 'friendship’?"

"Sienna was
happy I was spending time with Quinn," I said. "She knew
knew
we like the same things."

"Childish
things, little kid games," Mrs. Thomas spat. "Well, at least you
realized Sienna was too good for you. I was glad when you two started drifting
apart."

"You wanted
him out of Sienna's life, but you expected him to be there and prevent all of
this?" Quinn asked. She threw her hands up in disgust. "You don't
even know what you're saying."

"No one does
today. It's alright, Quinn. I'm going to leave," I said.

"I'll walk
you to your car," she said.

Mrs. Thomas opened
her mouth to protest, but Quinn brushed past her. I had no choice but to follow
her out the front door. She moved fast, her long legs flying down the front
steps. Her black high heels clicked quickly along the sidewalk and I had to hurry
to catch up.

"Quinn? Are
you alright?" I asked.

"No. Yes. I
have no idea," she said, finally slowing down.

"They feel
the same way," I said. "You can't listen to anything they say."

"Except
they're right," Quinn said. "You were Sienna's boyfriend, not my
buddy. I shouldn't have pestered you. I should have stuck by my mother and kept
her calm."

"You're
allowed to grieve, too. You're allowed to need someone in your corner." I
caught her arm. "I'm on your side, Quinn. I've always been on your
side."

"Sienna
didn't mind us being friends, did she?" Quinn asked, tears in her eyes.

"She
encouraged it. Sienna was the one that pointed out how much we have in common. She
made us friends," I said. I bit my lip to stop from saying more.

Quinn threw her
arms around my neck and hugged me hard. I steadied myself, then wrapped my arms
around her. I could not think about how her every curve fit alongside my body. We
came together too easily to ignore, but Quinn needed comfort, not
complications.

I would not tell
her how many times Sienna confronted me about my feelings for her little
sister. Quinn did not need to know how often Sienna complained that her little
sister had a crush on me. No one needed to know how that always thrilled me. I
kept up with Sienna as long as I could. Now that she was gone, my connection to
Quinn was even stronger. We needed each other.

"It's going
to get better," I said.

"I know, I
know," Quinn's voice was muffled against my neck. "Just promise me we
won't drift apart." She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "I
didn't know you and Sienna were drifting apart."

"For a long
time, but that doesn't matter now," I said. I set Quinn carefully back on
her high heels. "I'm here if you need me."

She looked at my
car and shook her head. "Sienna hated this car."

"Get in if
you want. I can drive you to the cemetery or you can hang out at my place if
you want," I said.

Quinn brushed her
chestnut hair back and smoothed it down. "No. I have to ride with my
parents. It wouldn't look right if I wasn't with them."

I wanted to ask
her what it mattered how things looked. I wanted to tell her that grief was
messy. It was too late. I watched as Quinn straightened her shoulders and
marched back to be the dutiful daughter.

CHAPTER
THREE

Quinn

The
house was spotless when we returned from the cemetery. Even the funeral flowers
had been removed. White roses replaced the normal vases of cut flowers my
mother ordered, but that was the only change. It was as if nothing had
happened.

I went to change
clothes and then came back down to join my parents. They seemed confused.

"Oh, Quinn,
you startled me," my mother said. She and my father sat in their normal
spots in the living room. My father was reading and my mother was watching a
raucous reality television show.

He put his book
down, and my mother paused the television. The same heavy expression they had
worn all day returned. If I had not reappeared, they could have convinced
themselves both daughters were at UCLA and all was as it should be. I was an unwelcome
reminder that Sienna was gone.

"I was just
coming to say goodnight," I said.

"It’s only 8 pm,"
my father said.

"I'm just
really tired," I rubbed my forehead.

"Sienna says
studying before bed is a good idea because your mind works on what you learned
all night," my mother told me.

"Yes, good
idea," I said. I did not tell them I had left all my study material at
school.

Upstairs again,
the weight overtook me. I sank to the floor next to my bed. Sienna was gone and
I could just as easily disappear. In fact, I slipped out of my parents' lives
just by leaving the room. I could just leave and they would never even notice. Where
would I go and what would I do?

I knew, but I was
not ready to think about it.
 

I must have been
sitting there for nearly an hour when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Quinn, I had
to call. How are you?"

"Darla? Hi. I
don't know. I survived," I said. I pulled myself off the floor and
wandered around the room as we talked. "How are things on campus?"

"Crazy. There
were about a dozen memorials for Sienna today. The administration has gone into
hyper speed about mental health. I swear to God they would screen us all if
they could. There's even talk of a suicide prevention team being formed. They
want you to be a part of it. I actually had to explain to them why today was
not a good day to call and discuss it," Darla said.

"How am I
supposed to come back?" I groaned. "Owen was right, maybe now is a
good time to take a break and find out what I really want to do."

"Owen?"
Darla asked. "Yes, of course he was at the funeral."

"I hid out in
the basement playing video games. He found me and we hung out. It was just like
old times."

"Old times
like when you had a mad crush on him? Like when he was flirting with you but
dating your sister?" Darla asked.

"Exactly,"
I said.

She sighed. "Well,
at least that got a little smile out of you. I heard it."

"I know, I
know, but it was really great. He's the only one I can actually talk to around
here."

"And it
doesn't hurt that he's a 6 foot, blue-eyed, blond that's built like a Norse
god," Darla said. "I'd let him comfort me anytime."

"Want to know
something weird?" I asked. "My mother was crazy today and trying to
place the blame on Owen. While she was ranting at him, she said the strangest
thing. She said everyone knew about Owen and me. Sienna even knew how well we
got along and she encouraged Owen to hang out with me."

"Well, she
did only use him as eye candy," Darla said. "Maybe your sister
realized you two share something a little deeper."

"But she
still dated him."

"Was your
sister ever any good at sharing?" Darla asked. "Sorry."

"No, it's
good. Owen and I spent all day listening to memories of Sienna that had passed
through a perfecting lens. No one wanted to remember that she was real," I
said. I flopped back on my bed. "I don't want my sister to be a saint. I
just want to remember my actual sister."

"Oh, Quinn,
I'm so sorry. You and Sienna loved each other. Sisters don't always get along,
sisters don't always share, and sisters certainly don't take it easy on each
other. No one knew her like you."

"Thanks,
Darla. I'll be back on campus soon," I said. We said our goodbyes and I
hung up.

Darla was right. I
knew Sienna better than anyone. And now that I thought about it, she had always
talked about Owen and me together. She had talked to me about movies Owen and I
would like, stores we should visit, and places we should go. Sometimes she sent
us off together while she was busy. At the time I would be embarrassed,
thinking she was using Owen to babysit me, but now I wondered.

My thoughts were
interrupted by a tap on the window. It was followed by a smattering of clicks,
pebbles hitting the glass. I pulled myself off my bed and went to the window. Owen
waved from the lawn and pointed to the kitchen door.

It was the way he
used to sneak into the house during high school. I turned and tiptoed down to
the kitchen to let him in. I warned him not to say a thing. We slipped along
the hallway and down the basement to the safety of the old leather sofa.

"What are you
doing here?" I asked.

"I wanted to
make sure you were okay. I drove to the cemetery. I didn't join everyone at the
graveside, but I was there. You didn't look like you were doing too
good
," Owen said.

I rubbed my
forehead again. "It, it was a tough drive there and back."

"Your
parents? I figured."

For a moment, I
thought he was going to pull me into a hug, but Owen hesitated and I took a
step back. Instead, he sat down on the sofa and opened the backpack he had
brought with him.

"I realized I
still had some things of Sienna's that I thought you might want back,"
Owen said. He pulled out a dog-eared copy of
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
.

I laughed and took
it from him. "This is mine. My favorite book," I said.

Owen smiled. "Yeah,
that makes more sense. I remember making Sienna read it before we watched the
movie, but she was not into it."

"I
remember," I said. "Sienna ended up inviting cheerleaders over and
making pep rally signs. She sent me downstairs and you started the movie over
so I could watch too."

"Well, here's
what else I found," Owen said.

I sifted through
the few articles he dumped on the sofa between us. "My constellation map. I
wondered where this went."

"Sienna gave
it to me after the meteor shower last year," Owen said. "I didn't
know it was yours."

"Actually, so
is the CD mix," I said.

"I loved that
mix. I always wondered how Sienna got all the songs. Not really her type of
music," he said. "Sorry. This was supposed to help you remember your
sister."

I took his hand
and squeezed. "But it did! Much more than the rest of today. Sienna knew
we liked the same things and she wanted to give you things you liked, so she
gave you my stuff."

Owen smiled. "Yeah,
Sienna always figured out how to remove the guesswork from anything."

We sat for a
moment, and I was happy to finally be remembering my sister for who she was. When
I realized I was still holding Owen's hand, the heat went directly to my
cheeks.

"Sorry,"
I said.

"
It’s
okay, Quinn," Owen said. He moved closer and took
my hand again. "Don't you ever think Sienna might have wanted this? She
was always matching us up, always putting us together."

"Then why
were you dating?"

"Sienna
wanted a high school sweetheart. Those stories don't include breaking up
freshman year and spending the rest of high school 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 drove around and plotted her perfect future. She
wanted to be surgeon at one of the exclusive private hospitals in Las Vegas
where she could treat rich people from all over the world without leaving her
hometown. My father had even taken on clients from those hospitals to make sure
Sienna would have the contacts she needed.

My father stopped
and his watch arm dropped. He just stood in the corner of the kitchen and
stared at the floor. "Well, the pizza will be ready soon. We should leave
in about 15 minutes."

He shuffled back
towards the front room as I leaned on the counter. I clung to Sienna's idea of
a daydream city. It was easy to picture Las Vegas. I always started with the
Paris Casino, the faux Eiffel Tower was something I often teased Sienna about. From
there, I pictured the Bellagio's dancing fountains and the Luxor's sleek black
lines. I also loved the roller coaster facade of New York, New York and the
white columns of Caesar's Palace.