Page 8 of Anti-Player

He lights up like the Vegas strip. Taking my hand, he squeezes until I feel the pressure travel to my core, like he's clutching me both outside and in. “Deal. Thank you, Fawn.”

Pulling my hand from his, my face hot and my smile helpless, I say, “Call me Paige.”

****

It's a strange walkback towards my place. Mikel parts ways with his hands in his pockets, like he doesn't know if he should shake my hand again or hug me goodbye. I keep my arms folded over my chest to warn him off. He isn't the only one who doesn't know how to act.

“Okay,” I say, poking my toe at the sidewalk where the nearby tree roots have lifted it from the foundation, “Let's chat about when we can meet up to work on things.”

He smiles warmly. “Can I get your number?”

Brand new tingles shoot down my legs. When is the last time a guy has asked me that? “Right, duh,” I laugh, fishing out my iPhone. “I'll text you right now.” He rattles off his number and I hit send.

:

Me: Hi hi

:

His phone bleeps loudly—he looks at it, his thumbs running over the screen. My phone buzzes.

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Unknown: Can't waitto talk again.

:

I create a contactfor him. Staring at my phone, my cheeks heating up, I flick my eyes back up to see his reaction. Mikel is smiling with a hint of slyness. He's a mystery—both awkward and flirty at the same time. Eager to win me over... but there's something simmering beneath the surface.

If he's attracted to me the way I'm attracted to him, this is going to be a challenge.

“Okay, well, bye,” I say, backtracking up my steps, stumbling once, before rushing through the front doors of my apartment building. Inside, free of his perceptive gaze, I pant heavily. What a weird day, I think, rubbing the back of my hand over my forehead.

I don't make it back to my third floor before my phone vibrates. With my pulse going wild, I stare at the screen.

:

Juliet: are you okay???

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I breathe easier whenI see it's her and not Mikel. I type back.

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Me: Yes, but boy, doI have a story to tell.

Juliet: Let's get dinner. I'll pay.

:

Her offer makes megrin. Juliet isn't worried about the cost of feeding me, she's obviously dying to know why I abandoned my stream and went offline out of the blue. I love my friend, but no denying she's obsessed with gossip. The juicier the better.

And... I do have quite the juicy tale.

Spinning around, I jog down the stairs and back into the fresh air. It's the middle of April, the weather the usual dry seventies for LA. At just past five it's not dark, but my cardigan will keep the evening chill away. I spot the occasional rat scurrying along the telephone wires when I get close to the row of restaurants not far from my apartment.

This area isn't bad or anything, but it doesn't feel like the kind of place that should cost you over two grand just to sleep in a one bedroom studio. I've lived in California my whole life, though I'd only moved to Santa Monica a year ago.

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