Play With Me (Playing for Keeps, #2)

by Becka Mack

If I’m being honest, I absolutely want to see him mostly naked and soaking wet. A mental flick pick I can file away in my Flickapedia for future usage. Like tonight. Yes, I’m 100 percent gonna flick it to the image of Garrett Andersen. Sue me.

Stupid fucking nipples. Stand down, soldiers.

Are dicks meant to be attractive? Because, God, Garrett’s got the Chris Evans/Captain America of dicks, in that he might be the absolute perfect specimen who vibrates at peak efficiency.

😂😂

“I’m so fucking tired of pretending.” “Pretending what?” It’s nothing but a breathy whisper as he prowls toward me, matching each of my steps backward. His strong hands cup my face, piercing gaze locked on mine as he looms above me. My heart slams in my chest as his thumb sweeps across my lower lip, and his eyes dip, watching as my lips part on a jagged inhale, before flipping back up to mine. “I’m so fucking tired of pretending I’m not in love with you.”

Why is loving myself less important than the idea of other people loving me?

Garrett once told me I wasn’t made to fit in, that it wasn’t possible for me to hide in the shadows. So why was I constantly trying? Why had I become an impostor in my own life? I never doubted my talents. I had all the confidence in the world when it came to dance, my ability to wow. And yet, so often I’ve been ready to fold myself in half to fit somebody else’s idea of who I should be, to be someone that everybody else deemed worthy. Just to be somebody that I deemed worthy. Worthy of love, acceptance. I’ve lived too much of my life under pressure. But maybe all that pressure was coming from … me. The people who mattered never asked me for more, or different. They saw all of me, and they opened their arms and embraced all the pieces, the stories, the fears, the nuances that made me who I was. Maybe I’d grown accustomed to being alone. To the thought that I wasn’t just right for anyone, any relationship, friendship or otherwise. Maybe I convinced myself I was okay with that. The solitude had become a peaceful reprieve for me. It was my quiet place to rest, to take off all my masks, and let myself be without fear of rejection. But what if falling in love is when being with that person is better than the comfort of the solitude? What if love is when you embrace it together, the chaos of your mind, and make it better than you ever thought it could be?

“You know, I’m not sure we ever really fell in love. I think we built it from the ground up. We made each other a priority, made our friendship a safe place to be together and learn together. We wanted honesty and trust, and we worked every day to get it. We planted the seeds, and when I bloomed, it was because you took my hand and made sure all of me got space to shine, even the parts I was content to leave inside the shadows.”