Chapter 4: Playing Games

Chapter 4: Playing Games

Bella

Why am I still thinking of him? I’ve only met Logan once, and I can’t get him out of my mind. Of course, I knew who he was, and I fantasized about him before we met, but that was just a fantasy. Like when you read a good book, and you fall in love with the character. He was like my book boyfriend. But now, even after days have passed, I can’t get him out of my mind. It’s like he marked me somehow. I don’t know how many restless hours I’ve spent thinking about how his body felt against mine. Every part of my body tingles when I think of him.

I’d like to pretend that I didn’t do anything about it, but I’m a sexual woman, and with thoughts of Logan running rampant in my mind, I had to take matters into my own hands; if you know what I mean. One night, I found myself sliding my hands down my underwear until I saw stars. In my imaginings, Logan would kiss and touch me everywhere, kiss his way down to my breasts, and lick my nipples while his hand slid between my legs to plunge into my sheath. I burst into flames every time I think about it.

Every night I lie in my bed breathless and needy, and it’s driving me crazy. The compulsion to see Logan is nearly overwhelming. Of course, I’m sure he’s not thinking about me. He was so curt and dismissive that I cringe at the memory of how foolish I looked, gaping at his toned abs, broad shoulders, and fit body.

Thankfully, Gran was napping when I got home, so I didn’t have to explain why I didn’t finish everything that I was supposed to do.

Sighing, I close my eyes and roll my shoulders. It’s been a long night and morning. Since I’m just a lowly medical student, I get the crappy graveyard shifts. I’m beyond exhausted, but I’m worried about Gran, and I want to check on her before I go home. I’m worried because Rafa has been staying with her, and Gran caters to him to the point where she makes herself sick. He can be a real prick about it too. I remember one time I came home, and she was sleeping on the couch because Rafa needed the bed. I was so angry that I dragged him out of bed and made him give her the bed. My grandmother is a sweet seventy-five-year-old woman who has given her children everything she could in life. My mother always appreciated her, but Rafa always wanted more. Anyone who sees my Gran would see an old lady with long graying hair and wrinkled skin that hangs off her fragile body. But don’t be fooled by her appearance. That’s not all my grandmother is. Gran is very strong and protective of her family─including Logan. Unfortunately, those feelings make it easy for Rafa to take advantage of her.

Gran’s apartment is not far from mine. I got temporary housing back in August because I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here. I’m still waiting to see if my residency at LA’s Memorial Hospital will become permanent, or if I’m going to be transferred to another hospital. It’s a small studio apartment, with a queen-sized bed, a dresser, a flat-screen mounted on the wall, and a futon to sit on. The kitchen is tiny but functional. All-in-all, the place is comfortable.

Hopefully, Gran didn’t go to work today. It’s only eleven in the morning.

Striding through her front door, I gasp in horror. The apartment is a wreck. My gran’s things are turned over or tossed carelessly across the floor. I don’t know what to do. I’m about to reach for my phone when a loud moan reaches my ears. Thinking it’s Gran, I rush into the living room. The television is lying face down on the floor, and her couch is flipped over.

“Gran!” I look around hysterically. That’s when I hear another moan. This time the sound is coming from the kitchen. Without another thought, I run into the kitchen. Fortunately, it’s not my Gran. Rafa is leaning against one of the cabinets clutching his injured hand to his chest with blood dripping down from a cut on his head. “Rafa!” I cry out.

His blood-shot eyes gaze up at me dazedly, and his face is wan and sweaty. I’m not as concerned about his appearance as I am about the blood, though. Rafa is a drinker who is heavily into drugs. He always looks like that.

“Bella.” Her slurs disoriented. “Is that you? I’m hurt.” I look around, horrified. “Where’s Gran?”

Rafa shrugs his shoulder and grunts. “She went to work.”

Kneeling down, I exhale with relief and inspect his wounds. “What happened, Rafa? Why is gran’s place, trashed?” Rafa groans in reply. “I owed someone a little bit of money, and they got mad…”

“Stop talking!” I mutter heatedly.” “I can’t believe you brought these men to Gran’s house. You’re such an asshole! What if she would have been here? They could have hurt her.”

Rafa’s eyes roll around his head. “Are you high right now?” I ask incredulously.

Rafa scoffs. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Hold still,” I mutter, taking his hand in mine and look it over. The hand is bleeding and shaking, one of his fingers is bent at an odd angle, and the knuckles are swollen. He has a large gash on his forehead that leads up to his scalp. “Your finger is broken, but the rest of your hand is fine. It looks like you need stitches. Stay here, I’m going to get my bag, then we’re going to talk about what happened.” I whisper huskily.

Without another word, I wrap up his hand and sew up his scalp. Unfortunately, we don’t get to talk because Rafa passes out halfway through me, wrapping up his hand. Giving him a mild sedative, I drag him to the living room, turn over the couch, and settle him awkwardly on top of it. Rafa may be skinny and sickly, but he’s still six feet of dead weight. Gazing down at his sunken eyes and sallow skin, I close my eyes and resist the urge to cry. His dark hair is long and ragged around his face, his beard is knotted and scruffy, and his clothes are hanging off his sickly frame. He looks like a vagrant.

I’m fully awake now. The fear that my grandmother could have been hurt snapped my body back to full awareness. Rafa said she went back to work, which means she’s at Logan’s house. I need to tell her what happened to Rafa. Concerned that she might come in and find the place wrecked, I decide to call her. Unfortunately, she doesn’t answer her phone. Desperate, I try a few more times, but all I get is her voice mail.

Groaning with resignation, I see no choice but to go to Logan’s house and tell her in person. A large part of me dreads driving over there, but a small part of me tingles with anticipation.

The public car drops me off in front of Logan’s house with a wave. My car is in the shop. Logan’s house is quite impressive, and I love that it’s near the beach. Running my hands down my blue and white striped halter romper, I curl my toes around my white wedges and wind my way up the driveway. Thankfully, I changed out of my scrubs at the hospital. I have two days off, and I didn’t want to leave wearing my work uniform.

Taking a deep breath, I ring the doorbell and shift nervously in place. My heart thrums in my ears, and my breath hitches. Every part of me stills when the door opens. That’s when I realize that I’m in deep. Why the hell did I come here?