Playing Heart Games

Level 26: Dance With The Girl

AXEL

Friday evening and Violet and I were sitting in my car. A hundred feet away, a party was in full swing and I was wishing that we were anywhere else but here.

It had been weeks since we'd first met in that classroom.

This didn't feel like a game anymore.

I had an overwhelming desire for her to not care—to not care about Mark. To be here because she wanted to be with me, not because she wanted to win back her ex.

But I knew what impossible sounded like.

"That video that went around," I began. "I don't think your face was on it."

I'd canvassed all the uploads I could find and hadn't found one where I could see her face. I was guessing that Asher had recognised her curls, and that was how he'd figured out it was her.

"But—" my throat tightened. "People saw us leave together. And—I don't exactly have a good reputation—the rumours aren't..."

I couldn't stand some of the stuff that had been said about her. And it was all my fault.

Whether or not the videos showed her face, I would get them off the internet. It didn't matter how much it cost. Eventually, people would forget.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Look, we'll walk in separately—"

"I don't want to do that." She was smiling, no amount of concern on her face. "I don't care what people have to say about me. You're my best friend--and I want to walk in with you."

My heartbeat stumbled.

Best friend?

She stepped out of the car, grinning at me. "Now let's go to a stupid party. Showtime Axe."

I blinked, half shocked by her words, half floating because she'd called me Axe.

"Ok," I finally said. I stepped out of the car.

There were several people outside, scattered around nearby cars. They stared in our direction. My skin prickled.

But Violet ignored them.

She rounded the car, stopping next to me. "Let's go."

And we walked towards the mansion together.

"So," I started, trying to get back into my casual drawl, "when did I graduate to best friendship?"

Violet glanced up at me, then dipped her head, embarrassed. She shrugged. "I don't know."

Gosh, she was adorable.

"You're my favourite too," I murmured.

Her eyes met mine before she quickly looked away. "Thanks," she mumbled.

We were near the front of the house now. The doors were swung open, moving bodies within. No one inside had noticed us yet.

"You sure about this Curls?"

There was still time to turn back.

Violet slipped her arm through mine. "Super sure."

We crossed the threshold and entered the building.

Music pounded from speakers attached to the walls, thumping through the tiles beneath our feet. Bodies filled the room. And eyes. Several of which were now drifting in our direction.

Violet's expression didn't change, didn't falter. Not as more people glanced over. Not as she led us through the crowd.

And I wondered how the hell I'd found someone as amazing as her.

The song blasting through the speakers came to an end, replaced by something slower, a male voice crooning about love.

Violet paused, turning to face me. She looked up at me with those massive brown eyes and asked, "Axel Ryder, will you dance with me?"

I stared.

Say something.

Unable to speak, I nodded.

She bit her lip then lifted her hands, placing them behind my neck. I swallowed, my fingers tentatively brushing her waist.

And then we were dancing. One of those slow dances you saw in romantic movies.

And the people staring faded to nothing. The voices and the music faded to nothing. There was just us. A solitary planet in an empty galaxy.

Violet's voice was soft when she spoke, "You know, when I first came here, I said I was happy, but I wasn't." Her eyes glittered. "And then I met you."

My heartbeat stuttered. I tried to ignore the nervousness that rippled beneath my skin.

Axel Ryder didn't get nervous.

"You're not so bad yourself Curls."

She grinned. "Why, thank you, kind sir."

"Sassy," I quipped. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

She giggled, and I forgot how to breathe.

Her eyes searched mine as her laughter dissolved. "You make me different," she said quietly.

I raised an eyebrow, my throat tightening. "Worse?"

She shook her head, curls tumbling over her shoulders with the movement. "Better," she said. Her features were serious, searching. "Being with you—it makes me realise how tired I am of playing a part. How tired I am of doing what everyone wants me to do. How tired I am of trying to be perfect."

Unable to resist, my fingers brushed her cheek. "Then stop," I murmured.

Her eyes lit up. "No more games," she said softly. Her hands slid from my neck. She flashed me a grin. "Why don't we get out of here and actually do something fun?"

I couldn't look away. Anything. "Sure."

She grinned, and then her fingers were sliding through mine, and she was pulling me towards the doors.

And I didn't care about the people watching.

I didn't care if I was entertainment.

Because this—this to me was perfection.