Reluctantly Yours(57)

“I like words.”

“I can tell.”

I arrange my tiles, moving them around to find out which word option will get me the most points. I think back to last weekend when he ruined my WordIt streak. I’ve decided I don’t want to just beat Barrett. Annihilation would be preferable.

I have a thousand Es which seems annoying at first, but then I discover that I can play the word SQUEEZE using two letters with huge point totals and one happens to land on a double letter score space.

“Thirty-five points! Beat that.” I’m ready to declare victory.

Barrett studies his tiles saying nothing. His long fingers manipulate the tiles, thoroughly feeling them out. I should be used to this by now, but come on. Starting off with a thirty-five-point word in Scrabble is huge.

Ironically, that’s the word that Barrett plays off my last E. HUGE.

“Congratulations,” I say, trying to keep a straight face, “eight points.”

I write down our first-round scores using a piece of paper and pen I found in the box. I’m going to frame this score card and hang it in my apartment.

Which reminds me. “I talked to my landlord yesterday,” I say, arranging my tiles again, looking for another high point word. “I was supposed to be able to move back in next week but she said there were delays.” I lift my eyes toward Barrett. “Do you know anything about that?”

While I’m not entirely anxious to return to the shoe box that is my apartment, especially after living at Barrett’s spacious and luxurious brownstone, I do want to make sure the timeline for completion coincides with me being single again. It would be weird if we broke up and I was still living at his place.

“It’s not ready yet,” he responds. No details, no explanation.

Inspired by Barrett, I play the word HUMDRUM. It earns me a triple letter score and a double word score for a total of thirty-eight points. It also earns me a smile from Barrett.

“Why are you smiling?” I ask. “You’re losing.”

“Am I?”

“Yes to both.” I laugh.

He shrugs.

“You should smile more,” I tell him, an idea forming in my brain. “In fact, I’m going to put it on my list.”

“That seems like a waste.”

“Not at all.” I shake my head. “It’s a great smile.”

“How many times of day would be sufficient?” He’s amused now.

“It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s always directed at me.”

My eyes widen reflexively and I want to smack my hand over my mouth. Why did I say that? Am I flirting with Barrett? That seems impossible.

His lips twitch as he rotates a single tile between his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do—” he begins, but I start laughing.

“You don’t?” I laugh. “I don’t think anything can be further from the truth.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I motion for him to continue.

“You’re not using your requests very wisely.”

“Oh really?”

“With the addition of me smiling more, you only have one request left and still four weeks before your time is up.”

“So, I’m maximizing the time I have with the requests I’ve made.”

He hums thoughtfully.

“I’ll be curious to see what you come up with for your final request.”

“And what would you suggest I add to the list?”

Barrett leans forward to place his tiles on the board. He uses the S from SQUEEZE to spell the word SHOWER. When my eyes lift to find him staring at me, my mouth goes dry. That single word sets off a highlight reel of what I walked in on this morning. The heat in Barrett’s eyes is unmistakable. It’s a perfect match to the lust-filled stare he pinned me with this morning.

Barrett earns a measly twelve points, his strategy is mediocre at best, yet he looks like he’s having the best time. He sits back against the sofa, those graceful fingers of his drumming against the table.

It occurs to me that Barrett isn’t actually trying to win this game. He’s playing a different game altogether. I think it’s called Make Chloe Squirm and the objective is to make me squirm. It’s an easy game really, and Barrett excels at it.

This is confirmed when he uses his next turn to play MOIST.

My mind returns to the car that first morning after I moved into his place and the WordIt that day was MOIST. So were my panties after he bent down to give me a simple goodbye kiss, which he thought I wanted when in fact I was only trying to give him his coffee.

“Your turn,” he says simply, like I’m not fighting every cell in my body to not fling myself over this table and into his capable hands. The seam of my jean shorts is pressing in just the right spot that I can feel the pulse of my clit against the rigid fabric.

I stare at the Scrabble tiles, unable to form anything in front of me into a word.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Lucy appears in the doorway and I have the urge to run over and hug her.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Come on in. How’s it going? Want to play Scrabble?” Should I invite her to sleep over, too? We’ll have movie night and share popcorn. Lucy will sit in the middle to chaperone. Sounds like a fun time.

I can feel Barrett’s eyes on me. I may have the higher point total but he’s the real winner here. Make Chloe Squirm was a success.