Chapter 14: The Games We Play

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Chapter 14: The Games We Play

M A D D O X

I keep my eyes fixed on my bowl of steaming oatmeal as I count out the scoops of brown sugar in my head. One tablespoon... two tablespoons... three tablespoons...

I've already accumulated a small mountain of light-brown crystals but I keep going for dramatic effect. Four tablespoons... Five?... Would five be too extreme?

Nah. Not when I have an audience. Eleanor stands on the opposite side of the dining hall breakfast buffet, and I can practically feel the waves of disapproval as she glowers at my bowl.

I'm messing with her, and she knows it. I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. Eleanor's food-related edicts are another thing I'm not going to miss since breaking up with her. My ex-girlfriend has been obsessed with my eating habits ever since my grandmother was diagnosed with diabetes a couple years ago. Good carbs... Bad carbs... Low glycemic index...

I spent the whole school year eating my morning oatmeal sweetened with nothing but fresh cut strawberries, plus a scoop of ground flax seeds and a handful of walnuts for protein. Not very tasty, but easier than arguing with her.

But those days are over. I'm a free man. I might have agreed to play along with Eleanor's "terms and conditions" for the next month, but I never said I'd pretend to be good boyfriend. Nope. Not anymore. Bring on Maddox the bad boy with his bad carbs.

I reach for the walnuts out of habit, and my hand hovers for a moment above the serving spoon... but I catch myself. Good boyfriends eat walnuts. Bad boyfriends who want a little nutty flavor to their oatmeal? They go for the chocolate Nutella.

"That looks truly disgusting."

I glance up at the female voice that spoke. Miranda stands at Eleanor's side, with her gray wool beanie pulled low over her forehead as usual. She nudges Eleanor with her elbow. "Are you going to let him eat that?"

Eleanor shrugs, her face a mask of innocent surprise. As if she would never dream in a million years to tell me what to eat... what to wear... what to say... what to do... Oh no. She wouldn't dream of it. Instead, she picks up the container of maple syrup and holds it out to me. "Here, Moxie. You forgot this."

She smiles, and I match her cloying tone. "Thank you, my dearest darling," I reply. "Here, why don't you have some." I apply a generous squirt of syrup to her plateful of scrambled eggs before she can grab the bottle back out of my hands.

Miranda looks back and forth between us, trying to get a read on the weirdly oversweetened vibe, but Eleanor changes the subject distract her. "Hey, speaking of dearest darlings, where's your girl?"

"The hell if I know." Miranda's face darkens. Uh oh. Are Sam and Miranda having problems? I thought those two were rock solid. I put my bowl on my tray and trail after Eleanor and Miranda toward the beverage area. I can smell the drama brewing... along with a fresh pot of French roast coffee.

"Listen," I hear Eleanor telling Miranda when I catch up with them. "You're too clingy. If you really want to wrap someone around your finger, the key is to make them jealous."

I can't help but give a snort as I grab my own mug. Eleanor's eyes flash toward me for a split second, but she turns them back to Miranda once again.

"I don't know." Miranda looks down at her tray, tugging her woolen cap so low it covers most of her eyebrows. "That sounds like a recipe for an unhealthy relationship. No?"

Yes. I nod to myself. Don't listen to her, M. Apparently, there are a few things even more unhealthy than the bowl of toxic waste I concocted for my breakfast.

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