Page 76 of Played
I'm drowning.
And I don't know how much longer I can keep my head above water.
Twelve days. That's how long it's been since the last note. Twelve days of silence from Daniel, and I'm still bracing for impact every time I turn a corner.
Maybe he's found someone else. Moved on. Wouldn’t that be something?
I want to believe it. God, I want to believe it.
But deep down, I know better.
The parking lot behind the pool hall swallows my Mini Cooper whole. Dim streetlights. Cracked asphalt. My keys jangle as I step out of the hall, and the late autumn air bites at my neck.
I huddle for warmth as I reach my car. Then—arms. Rough. Fast. A hand clamps over my mouth.
"Don't scream."
His voice slithers into my ear like a snake's hiss—low, familiar, intimate in all the worst ways. Poisonous. The kind of voice that used to make me feel protected, special, wanted. Now it just makes my stomach turn, makes every nerve ending in my body screamdanger.
My pulse quickens.
He spins me around.
Daniel.
His blue eyes gleam in the half-light, his grip iron.
I can't breathe. Can't move. My chest heaves against his hand.
"You don't need to be scared of me, Liza," he whispers, his voice taking on that soft, syrupy quality that used to make me melt. He squeezes me harder, closing the already minimal distance between us. His cologne fills my nostrils—the same expensive brand he always wore, the scent that used to comfort me and now makes me nauseous. "I love you,” he breathes. “I love you more than anyone else ever could. More thanJulianever could, or ever will."
I shake my head, trying to wrench free, but he pivots, pinning me against the car. His arms cage me in, palms flat on the roof—my face two inches from his.
"What we had—" His breath warms my cheek. "—it was too good to let go. You know that."
"Daniel, please—"
He leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously over mine, and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. The distance between us shrinks to nothing, and I know what's coming—he's going to kiss me, just like he used to, as if we could pick up exactly where we left off, as if nothing has changed between us. As if I haven't seen who he truly is beneath that carefully constructed mask of charm and kindness.
The thought of his mouth on mine now makes my skin crawl. Every cell in my body recoils. The act itself—this kiss he's attempting to steal—repulses me in a way I never thought possible. This is the same man whose kisses once made my knees weak, whose touch I craved.
Now all I feel is revulsion, deep and visceral. Everything we had, everything I thought we had, all those moments I cherished—it's all gone. Destroyed. Replaced by this suffocating fear and the bitter taste of recognition that what I thought was love was really just his need to possess and control.
When he presses his lips to mine—the moment of contact sending a jolt of pure disgust through my entire body—I don't hesitate. I don't freeze. I don't give him even a second to think this is okay, that this violation will go unanswered.
I shove him with everything I have, both palms flat against his chest, pushing with a force that surprises even me. My arms lock, muscles tensing as I put my full weight behind it, and he actually stumbles backward, caught completely off guard by the sudden, violent rejection.
The look of shock that crosses his face would almost be satisfying if I weren't so terrified, so utterly repulsed by what just happened. His expression shifts rapidly—confusion, then anger, beginning to darken those blue eyes I once loved.
His face twists. The softness vanishes.
"You think you can just walk away?" His voice drops, vicious now. "You thinkhecan keep you safe?"
I try to duck around him, but he catches my wrist, yanks me back. Pain shoots up my forearm.
"Let go—"
"No." His fingers dig in. "You're not running from me again."
