The Bet

Chapter 42

James's POV

I woke up, sun streaming in through the window above me, and into my face.

I rub my eyes and rise from the couch. It was probaly only around six thirty, but I'd taken to assume that Riley was already awake.

Quietly walking to the door, I turn the knob, and stick my head in. I can hear the sound of footsteps. I creep up the stairs and see Riley still wearing pajama shorts and a tank top, and trying to get ready

"God! Don't you knock!" She shrieks.

"Calm down, it's not like you were changing." I chuckle. She glares.

"I could have been." She mutters.

"Too bad." I mutter jokingly. She scowls.

"I was joking Riles." I tell her, leaning over her shoulder.

She was digging through her drawers for something to wear. Needless to say, there wasn't much to choose from. Her clothes looked old, and very much warm. Her cheeks flush red as she notices me eyeing her clothes.

"Can you go please?" She asks.

"Why?" I ask.

"Just go, okay?" She orders.

"Riles if you're embarrassed I can take you shopping after school or-"

"No! Just go!" She snaps. She tenses up and slightly pushes me away, shutting the drawers.

"Riley, there's no need to be embarrassed." I tell her. She shrugs.

"Clothes don't matter Riles. It's just clothes. It doesn't matter what you wear, or how you look. It only matters that I..." I trail off, keeping myself from saying what I was about to say.

"You what?" She inquires. I take a breath, bracing myself for the reality of my thoughts and feelings. I stare into her eyes.

"It only matters that I lo-"

Someone clears they're throat, interrupting me from my statement.

"Hey dad." Riley says nervously. "Um, James just came up to see if I was awake."

"Just making sure." He says. He turns and goes back down the stairs.

"I suppose I should get ready." Riley sighs. "Can you go downstairs again please?"

~~~~~

'A feeling of strong or constant affection for a person.'

I read the statement on my phone, over and over. Maybe it was weird to search up the written definition of love, but it felt necessary since this morning.

The question has been in my head since I arrived at school, through all my classes, and even now at lunch.

Riley is sprawled out on a chair, with her head on my chest.

"What are you doing?" She asks, sitting up.

"Um, nothing." I mumble. She shrugs and lies back down. I use one hand to hold my phone, the other playing with her hair.

Do I love Riley? This petite, beautiful, sweet, innocent girl that I'm just leading on? What has this bet done to me?

No, I don't love Riley. 'Like' might be an exception. But defiantly not love. It's impossible that just spending a couple days of kissing, cuddling, and talking can turn my player attitude into a soft, loving person. I refused to love a girl, and I defiantly still do.

I do not love Riley.