Page 14 of Our Final Game

“So, who the fuck are you bringing home?” Remi asks, snorting.

“Nobody. I don’t fuck every night.”

“Right, right. Not lately, anyway,” Roman says.

I open my mouth to reply, but Roman suddenly sits up straighter, looking over near the bar. “Oh, that’s my cue, see ya, good job tonight!”

“I think he found his target.” Mikah laughs, “He’s a lost cause. He’s going to be chasing Zayne till he’s in a nursing home.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll head out then,” I say, nudging Remi’s knee with my leg. “Tell Max I went home.”

“Gotcha, have a good night,” Remi says, wiggling his brows.

“You’re annoying,” I reply, rolling my eyes before getting up and heading out of the section. I move through the crowd and down the corridor towards the exit. Before I reach the door, I happen to look down one of the dark halls, and there they are; Roman with his tongue slipping into Zayne’s mouth. I laugh, making them look over at me. Of course, Roman looks a little pissed, especially since Zayne shoves him away, his face flushed.

I wonder what Rohan would think of this sight.

“Hey, Ty. Great game,” Zayne mumbles.

“Yeah, thanks. Heading out. You two have fun.” I smirk. “Okay, go, and text me when you get back,” Roman says, waving me off. I shake my head, laughing a little, and turn to leave them to continue. Good for Roman. I guess he’s making some great progress.

Pushing the door open, I pull a cigarette from my back pocket and fit it between my lips. The chilly night air whips my hair as I make my way toward the car. I check my watch and take a drag of my cigarette, leaning against my driver’s door.

Hopefully he hasn’t been waiting for me too long.

* * *

Cutting the engine of my car, I grab my bag from the passenger seat. It’s pretty late by the time I’ve made it back, but I still need to log in to the game for at least a little bit. I hate to go back on anything I’ve ever promised, even if it’s small. I hit the button to the elevator and step in. Just as the doors are closing, I hear footsteps sprinting towards me, an arm reaching out to tap the button quickly.

The doors open, and I can’t help but stare.

He always has this air about him.

The boy with the golden hair and golden eyes. You could say I was mesmerized. Until he opened his fucking mouth, that is.

“What the fuck are you staring at, Tyson?” Rohan sneers.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever speaks in any other tone or if this is his default voice.

“Nothing interesting,” I say, looking away from him as he steps inside.

Rohan puts as much space as he can between us, and that makes me chuckle. “What’s funny?” He snaps his head toward me. The usual bag of snacks he always comes in with dangles by his side.

“Nothing.”

“You couldn’t find anywhere else to live?” he says, leering at me. Rohan seems to think I’m stalking him, and I haven’t done that since I saw him play the first time in competition. Our living in the same building was pure coincidence. Hell, imagine my surprise when we ran into each other in the mailroom. He looked like he wanted to kill me right then and there.

“Ah, yes, because the world revolves around Rohan.”

“I mean, yours seems to, since you keep showing up wherever I am.”

“Wherever you are? It’s two places, stop bitching,” I argue.

“Two places. Right.”

This is the longest fucking elevator ride of my life. Rohan shifts on his feet as we come to the fourth floor, where he lives, thank God. I live on the sixth, and I’m glad there’s two floors of distance between us at least.

The doors open, and he rolls his eyes at me like the immature brat he is before stepping off and letting the door close behind him with a ding. I sigh, pressing my back into the wall.