Page 54 of Anti-Player

When we're alone Mikel pulls me to his car. We're barely inside before he's running his soft lips over mine. My palm presses his chest; his heart is thudding. “Mikel, how long is this drive?” I ask.

His eyes twinkle in the low-light. “Not that far. Back towards Santa Monica, maybe an hour tops.”

“Good. Because it's not that I don't want to meet whoever you're taking me to. I just...” My fingers walk down his sternum, his stomach, resting on his belt. He shifts with a groan. “I'm a little eager to get back to your place. Your bed, specifically.”

“Fuck, Paige, your mom told me to take care of you. Crashing my car is the opposite of that.”

My smirk can cut glass. “Then keep your eyes on the road, hot-shot.”

He starts the car, giving me a side-eye that's full of lust. “I guess I don't have to ask if you're really feeling better.”

“I am,” I answer honestly. “I really, really am.”

****

True to his word thedrive is not long.

We pull down a side-street, his headlights glowing on the thick palm trees that pack the neighborhood. It's a nice area, for sure. But I have no clue why we're here. The new May weather makes the daytime hot, but the evening still contains a mild chill. I appreciate the coolness because my nerves are buzzing about this unknown person Mikel is taking me to meet.

When we climb out of the car in front of the strange house partially hidden behind a thick hedge, my heart is stampeding. Everything is dark, as if the people who live here hate the idea of street lights. There's a gate keeping anyone from entering. It calls to mind hidden places in the vivid writings of fantasy books.

Mikel walks up like he's done this a thousand times, tapping a code into a keypad I didn't notice before. There's a click before the gate swings inward. “Come on,” he coaxes me. “It's getting late, and even though he's a night owl, I don't want to keep him up.”

“Keep who up?” I ask.

He just smiles.

We cross a flat stone path that's not overgrown like the hedges out front. The grass is short, mowed low, not a weed among the perfectly cared for lawn. It's the total opposite of my mother's landscaping. Whoever lives here either spends a lot of time managing the greenery, or they hire a professional.

Mikel climbs the two short, dark-slate steps; through the elegant window embedded in the white door a pleasant orange light glows. There's a shadow, someone moving, and Mikel barely knocks before the door swings open.

The man inside is backlit by the cascade of yellow lamp-light. It glows through his thinning snow-white hair, turns the edges of his lean face golden. I blink to make sure I'm seeing correctly. With his pale blue eyes, familiar smile, under all his wrinkles this man could be Mikel in fifty years.

“Hi, Granddad,” Mikel says.

The man beams—he still has all his teeth. “Mikel! What brings you here?” His smoky voice is pleasant. He turns his head, looking right at me, I think, before turning back to stare not quite at Mikel.

Mikel says, “I thought I'd have to let myself in.”

“No, no,” his grandfather chuckles kindly. “I heard you coming from a mile away. My eyes might be dull, but my ears are sharper than ever.”

It clicks—the reason he isn't asking who I am, or looking at me, is because... he's blind.

Mikel takes my hand, then puts his other on his granddad's shoulder, nudging him into the house. “I've got someone with me what I want you to meet.”

“A visitor?” he asks curiously.

“Uh, hello,” I say, waving, before blushing because he can't see me do it. Inside the home with the better lighting coming from the tall, forest green lamps in every corner, I get a better look at the older man's face. His attention is on me since I spoke, he knows I'm here, but his blue eyes are faded, the pupils never truly locking on me. “I'm Paige. It's really nice to meet you.”

“I didn't expect a lovely lady as a guest,” he says, reaching out his hand. I shake it, feeling the grooves of age baked into his skin. “Mikel should have warned me so I could look presentable.”

“You look good,” I say with a smile.

He slaps his hand to his chest with a playful gasp. “A relief. Well, what can I do for you two? Wait! Let me get us some tea.”

Mikel pulls a face. “Granddad, wait, don't do too much. Is Mary still here?”

“She went home an hour ago,” he says, shaking his head. “Mikel, I'm not an invalid. I've lived in this house for fifty years, I know where everything is.”

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