Page 38 of Dirty Roulette
Two meth heads ride on a mountain bike with a raccoon on a leash behind them. I’m sure the one with no teeth is the random homeless guy who appears out of nowhere and struts around the campus with cheap beer, wearing a yellow thong demanding spare change.
I cross a street and pass the sign stating in bold that the park closes at nine. It’s past ten, and I don’t have the slightest care. Dim orange lights cover the sidewalk path that circles the park. Finding Payton is easy. If she’s ever taken to a playground, her guilty pleasure is swaying on the swings or spinning on a creaking merry-go-round.
After circling the park once, I find the playground covered in pitch-black shadows. She’s lying flat on the rusty merry-go-round, spinning slowly. Long dark hair sprawls out on the metal, and mythroat goes dry as I’m stuck admiring her heart-shaped lips. Her big blue eyes catch hold of mine and my heart stutters.
I spot the little cities she drew with a black Sharpie on the white toe cap of her Converse. It’s funny how old habits die hard. She stole markers from my room in high school when I wasn’t looking. She used to sit on my bed and draw away, lost in her own thoughts. There were a few times she stayed while I tried to do my homework. She was so focused on drawing those cities; it had never dawned on me until now why I couldn’t concentrate. I was more immersed in her long, tangled hair hanging over her legs and how her chin rested on her kneecap. She’s like a deity bathed in lavender and gasoline. It’s a shame I only now realize it.
I grab the metal bars and halt the spin. She pulls headphones out of her ears while some screaming music blasts through the speakers.
“Hey,” I say.
“I’m sorry about today.” Payton sits up and her hair runs over her shoulders. She stares down at her feet, swirling dirt up in the air.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s all my fault.” Payton’s lower lip sticks out into a pout, and her eyes grow glassy. “I’m going to ruin my friendship with Charlie and any respect you’ve ever had for me. I can’t forgive myself. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t have a chance at getting drafted.” Her hands meet her eyes, and my heart constricts.
“Hey, hey... no.” I plop next to her and wrap an arm around her shoulder. Tears trickle down the corner of her cheeks and she buries her face in my chest.
My throat thickens. “We got our asses chewed out. That’s it. Coach is clueless you were even in there. Everything is going to be fine.”
“There are reels of me all over the internet and Charlie is pissed and she knows something is up,” she says.
“Well, you are guilty of keeping secrets from her.”
“I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.”
“Yeah she’ll be mad, but at least you’d get it off your chest.”
“You don’t get it.” She pulls away and uses her sleeves to rub the bottom of her eyes.
“What don’t I get? Explain it.”
“Because it’s you.” She sniffles.
“Look, I tried. I honestly tried talking Brody down after Coach grilled us for an hour straight.”
“And?” she asks.
“Brody has a sweet spot for Charlie and letting her off the hook, but there is something about you...” I sigh.
“Me?”
“You’re on his bucket list of chicks he wants to sleep with.” I let out a sigh, but it’s not lifting the weight off my chest.
“I’d rather go to hell.”
“I get it. You don’t want to sleep with me or anyone on the football team, and I don’t blame you.”
“I never said I didn’t want to sleep with you.”
I’m silent. I push away the hair sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. Stroking her velvet skin, my gaze rivets on her face and my eyes stray down to her cleavage, peeking out of her tank top.
“Have you told anyone?” She asks.
“Jared knows.” She lowers her gaze to the gravel and shrugs me off with a shoulder.Shit. Wrong answer. I’m horrible at reading a girl’s mind or interpreting what exactly they want from me. “You mad?”
“No...” She shakes her head, staring at her shoes. “It’s fine...” She kicks up dust. I think that means I messed up.
