A Cruel Game Chapter 2

          The streets were not as packed as they could be, still the road was busy and the sidewalk did have a reasonable selection of pedestrians. Daniel and I were walking in the direction of Monica's school, with the intention of giving Daniel his first shot at her. Of course the walk was time to setup rules and regulations.
          "So," Daniel started, "No cock-blocking?"
          "Of course not," I replied, "Hell no interaction at all, last time we tried that the chick got so pissed."
          Daniel chuckled, "Yeah, I recall."
          "Okay, so observation is allowed?"
          Daniel nodded, "Yes, but no talking about it with her."
          "Cool."
          We were at the college now, we both sat on the steps for a moment, my eyes locked with his, the pale orbs of blue that caught everything's attention, then I turned away, focused myself on the girls walking by. We sat there for several minutes without passing a word. Finally the clock struck fifteen after, it was time for me to move away. As I dismounted the stairs Daniel positioned himself on the bottom step and pulled out a small book, Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights and he began to read it starting somewhere in the middle. His eyes were cut at a slant as he gazed up the steps, watching for her approach. After about three minutes, and the passing of several men and women, she appeared. Radiantly glowing in the sunlight at the peak of the steps she was more beautiful than either of us had thought just based on window observation and print-outs. She was at the bottom of the stairs when Daniel's foot slipped and caused her to trip, dropping a collection of books, including on Wuthering Heights.
          Daniel quickly leaped up and began assisting her with the books, apologizing profusely. When she picked up her copy of the aforementioned book, Daniel saw to it that she grabbed his copy. From there it was easy, he flipped open her copy, saw where she had written the name, and as she turned to walk away he dropped a line.
          "Nightingale, well that's a gorgeous last name."
          She stopped dead and turned, "Excuse me?"
          Daniel blushed, it was a natural reaction for him, "That's your name? I think I grabbed your book by mistake."
          Monica looked down and flipped through his book, finding Daniel Stewart scribbled on the inside cover, "Oh, Daniel?"
          He blushed again, uneasily rubbing his neck, or at least it seemed like unease the way he played it off, "Yeah that'd be me."
          "Well it appears I have your book," she stated, smoothly swapping the two, "I'm sorry about that."
          Daniel was careful to brush his hand against hers as the books changed possession, "Oh no, again it's all my fault, I'm awfully sorry...Monica?"
          She smiled, it was dazzling, those perfect teeth shone brilliantly in the sunlight. It occurred to me at this point that the girl Monica was much more perfect than I had bargained for. But that only made it more interesting as to who she would fall for first.
          She simply stood there for a while, as Daniel held out his hand dumbfounded. He didn't react to her giggle, or her nod, but finally when she shook his hand a jolt of life shot into him, "Umm...Monica would you- would you be interested-"
          She waited patiently, letting him form the sentence in his mind. Patience was a virtue and this girl apparently possessed and controlled it.
          "Would you like to go out some time?" Daniel finished.
          Monica smiled, "Sure, can I get your number?"
          Daniel reached for her hand and without hesitation gripped it firmly as he slid her book free and replaced it with his again, "My number is in the cover as well."
          Monica nodded, "Then I'll text you later so that you have mine."
          Daniel blushed again, this seemed more real than before, "Th-thanks."
          She smiled again, that dazzlingly beautiful smile, "Well have a good day Daniel."
          "You too, Miss Nightingale."

          Little did I know that that turn of events would be the death of our game, this girl would be my undoing and Daniel's downfall. It was unfortunate that I didn't know that then, or I would have called off the game, even if Daniel claimed I was chickening out, it would have been better than the ultimate end. But I did not know, how could I? That blush, that smile, they were all real, it was at that moment that Daniel Stewart fell in love with Monica Nightingale. As Daniel walked toward me I noticed his smile, and that innocent blush. Something terrifying crept up my spine, as my eyes met his pale blue eyes, might I have fallen for him? Well now I know that there was something more to it than just pretty eyes, but it is rude to discuss things out of order. Next it was my turn to try to get a date with her, and date her I would, despite my strange attraction to those pale blue eyes.

          We were back at my apartment now, Daniel was collapsed on my bed, and I just kept staring at him. It seemed strange to me at that time that I would stare at him so hard. I chalked it up to curiosity, as he did continue to talk about her, he went on and on.
          "God Sven, you were right," he nearly exclaimed, "She truly does seem perfect."
          I nodded, my eyes locked on him.
          "You know I don't think I've ever seen anything like her, never, I don't think there's any work of art or any movie star that's anywhere near that!"
          "Well," I pondered for a moment, "When I'm right, I'm right."
          "So where are you gonna meet her at? How are you gonna score your first date?"
          "I'll meet her at the bar she socializes at on Fridays. This Friday to be more specific," I grabbed her picture from the floor, finally tearing my eyes away from him, "I'll win Daniel. Question is how."
          Daniel smirked, "How indeed, I intend to win this one."
          I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about his intentions, I did respond however as best as I could, “I intend for you to lose.”

          The bar was not as noisy as one might expect, it was in fact quite quiet, people seemed to stick to themselves or their small groups. It was a nice setting, we were not packed in, and there was no seeming urgency amongst the crowds. I had been sitting at the bar for about an hour now, Daniel was in the corner, I looked back every now and then, confirming that he was still there, or making sure he was still looking at me. She finally came in; Monica sat about three seats down from me at the bar and ordered a soft mixed drink. I stared at her for a while as she swirled the glass, then took a small sip from it. Her eye seemed to flicker in my direction while she drank. Ah, she was aware that I was watching.
          I let her continue her drinking for a while, until finally she couldn’t take it anymore, she gracefully slid down the bar stools to me. She sat herself gently in the stool beside me.
          “Can I help you?” she asked.
          I smirked, “Well I believe you already have.”
          “Oh and how is that?”
          I nodded to the bartender, “Well you’ve quite decided what I’ll be drinking tonight, I simply couldn’t decide.”
          At that moment the bartender brought a glass of the same mixed drink to me and set it down, then went back to his place at the bar, watching the television across the room. It was sweet and fruity, as I had expected, but not without a bit of bite from whatever he had mixed in. I sipped slowly, staring over the rim of the glass at her.
          “Well then, I’m glad I was of some assistance.”
          She went to stand, without a motion I caught her with my words, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
          “And I haven’t got yours,” she replied rather bluntly.
          “Sven, Sven Thompson,” was my answer.
          “Well, thank you Sven,” she sat back down, settling her arms on the bar, “I’m Monica Nightingale.”
          “Mind if I buy you another drink?” I continued, “You seem to have almost finished yours.”
          “That’s not necessary, thank you though.”
          I frowned, “Oh but Miss Nightingale, I insist.”
          “Well, if you must,” she smiled, that brilliant dazzling smile, and then drank down the remainder of her glass.
          We sat and talked for a little while, I paid for two more glass of the fruity drink for her, and another for me. It didn’t take long for me to strike up a conversation about her school, and from there about literature, and from there about my writing career and my need for inspiration. This particular myth caught her attention, and she stated she would love to read some of my work. At that point I went ahead and told her my apartment was a mess at the moment, but if she would like to come over some time I would be happy to have her. She gave me her number, and told me she would be glad to.
          We talked for a little longer but that was the end of it really. I had what I had come for, a phone number, and a plan. She eventually left, I watched her leave, every sway as she headed out the door. But, as she left, my eyes locked with the figure beyond her, Daniel’s pale blue eyes caught mine, and I was stuck. I found them quite intriguing yet again. I continued to watch him for a few moments, he was not intent on me anymore, he had allowed his eyes to wander after she left. Finally I got up, dragged his attention back to the present, and we left.

          It was not very often that I encountered such a situation as not knowing what to say, but that night Daniel and I sat on my bed, with the intention of carrying on a conversation regarding our plans, but I was lost for words. I just kept staring at him, and he accepted it, he did not seem to care one bit. After a while he thanked me and wished me the best of luck in the game, then he left, and I was alone. At that point I was very uncertain as to what I was to do. I was tired, I knew that, but I could not sleep. For some reason, every time my eyes closed one of them was there, either that beautiful dazzling smile, or those entrancing pale blue eyes. I finally resolved to clean up my room, I threw away most of the pictures the only ones that I didn’t trash were the print outs of Monica, and a couple of photos I had taken with Daniel over the years, both of which found their way into a drawer.
          I did not sleep that night, instead I worked on a convincing lie as to my writing. I was not without skill in the subject, and I managed to jot up several romance stories, all rather horrible at their bases but with reasonable character designs and at least a semi-decent plot line. Then I read over a few, and began shredding them, the last thing I needed was for Monica to read them and find a perfect description of the boy who had asked her out before me. I laid in my bed after that, quite confused as to what I was doing, but I never slept, I just stared and wondered, wondered and stared.