Playing Games

My eyes widened and my hands began to sweat. If it wasn’t for his tight hold on me, I would’ve gotten up and ran away.

He nuzzled my neck. “I said ‘I love you,’ Lily.”

I nodded my head numbly as I sat there uncomfortably. He began to kiss my neck, which I usually loved, but right then, I wanted anything but to be so close to him.

When his lips left my skin, he leaned back against the arm of the couch to eye me carefully. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

I didn’t realize until then that I was shaking.

I made an unintelligible sound and then pried my body from his grasp. I stood up and moved toward the kitchen. I opened the fridge and stuck my head in, but the cold air did little to cool me down. I was so hot. I was still shaking.

As I grabbed the strawberries and whipped cream from the fridge, I heard his footsteps patter against the tile floor towards me.

“Lily­-" he began.

“Want some strawberries?” I interrupted. I dropped them onto the counter with the whipped cream, and then stuck my head back into the fridge to take out the already open bottle of wine.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he apologized.

I stayed silent and closed the fridge. Then I opened the cabinet that was designated for his wineglasses. I knew his kitchen so well. I took down two.

“I just wanted to tell you how I felt,” he explained.

I refused to make eye contact with him when I spun around to put the rest of the items on the island counter that stood between us.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, we can talk about it more tomorrow. I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

I rotated the bottle of white wine in my hands and contemplated what he said with a sigh. “The crazy thing is...” I began, staring at the label of the bottle without registering what it read. “Never mind,” I said suddenly, shaking my head. “Forget it.” I took out the cork and poured wine into the two glasses.

“What’s the crazy thing?” he asked, politely accepting the glass that I offered him.

“Forget it, Adrian,” I said before taking a long gulp of wine.

“If I get you drunk, will you tell me?” he asked.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

“I’m kidding, Lily. Geez, when have I ever tried to get you drunk?”

“There’s always a first time for everything,” I replied curtly. I took a strawberry and topped it with whipped cream.

“Yeah, you’re right. Like the first time that one person in a couple dares to say ‘I love you,’” he concluded.

I took a bite of the strawberry and glared at him. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to talk about it right now.”

“We never agreed to anything. And honestly, I would like to talk about it right now.”

I finished chewing and swallowed. “Adrian, I don’t feel comfortable-­”

“You don’t feel comfortable? No, I am the one that feels uncomfortable.”

I reached for my glass but he pulled it away from my grasp. “Hey!” I said angrily.

“No more drinking, Lily. Talk to me, please,” he said gently.

I narrowed my eyes at him, and without looking, I reached for the glass that he held in his hawk-­like grip.

His reflexes were impressively instantaneous; he had it away from me and out of my reach, high above my head.

I smiled mischeviously and eyed the wine bottle, and once he realized my intentions, I snatched the bottle before he could get it, and chugged its small remnants down. Then I licked my lips and placed the bottle back onto the counter, smiling satisfactorily.

The look that darkened his face scared me. His eyes seemed to enlargen with sadness, his full lips thinned as he pressed them firmly together. He lowered his head and the glass in defeat. Putting the glass on the table, he mumbled, “Everything is just a game for you. You take nothing seriously.”

My smile fell from my face and I moved around the counter, toward his body.

He didn’t flinch when I touched his arm, but he didn’t pull me to him either. He just stood there, immobile, staring at my wineglass.

“Adrian,” I said quietly. “Look at me, please.”

He didn’t move for a moment, but then he slowly turned his head to look into my eyes. His typically warm, happy brown eyes were full of disappointment, and it hurt to know that I was the one that caused it.

I stood on my tiptoes so I could lightly kiss his lips. He didn’t react.
Instead he took a step away and said, “Please leave, Lily. I want to go to bed, I have to wake up early.”

I studied his demeanor, and upon realizing that I was unable to conjure up the words ‘I love you too,’ I decided it was best to leave. So I did.