Losing At A Game Novels & Stories

“You’re bold tonight.” “I’ve got nothing to lose.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You always have something to lose. Everyone does.” That last line hit harder than I expected. I didn’t respond. I just played another card, and the game went on. The rhythm of it was strange — soft shuffles, glances, silence. Every card felt like another round in a battle neither of us wanted to end. Finally, my hand was down to two.

If Evie wanted to play games, I’d give her the board, the pieces, and the rules. Because every game has an ending. And when this game concludes, one of us will be checkmate. And for the first time in my life, the possibility of loss doesn't feel like a threat. It feels like an atonement. I’ll finally know if I gambled like a genius, or if I just handed the devil the keys to my kingdom.

THE WEEKS ROLL by and the wear and tear on my body makes me down ibuprofen in order to function. Two losses followed our win against the Scorpions. I had two interceptions in the last game, was sacked twice, and Jordan missed a field goal. I've been here before and it's a shitty feeling. Our team should be better than this.

He finally realized that Hunter had intentionally pretended to be trapped to make him lower his guard. After being unable to score four times in a row, there was no point in continuing the game. Lloyd knew that he had lost the initiative, and a 9-0 defeat was a huge disgrace for him. Even if he and his team managed to make it a tie in the end, he would never shake off such humiliation. "We lost," Lloyd said dejectedly. "You guys won." "Yeah!" Hunter and his teammates laughed heartily. This game not only humiliated Lloyd but also cost him 10,000,000 dollars. Whether in spirit or money, he suffered heavy losses.

I tried to hype myself up, but it didn’t stop me from feeling like Gilbert was winning and I was losing. My mind was made up. I wasn’t going to her room. If she wanted her deadbeat husband over me, fine. Her loss. But I needed to cool off. I left my room and walked to Justin’s. He was slouched on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, watching a game. Damn. I was on the verge of losing Julia. Now I was standing in front of the one game I’d lost—and probably would never get to play again. I was losing on every side.

Alistair screamed, his face contorted with rage. Derrick’s men hesitated, unsure of what to do as their prize vanished into the night. **The coin was gone**—lost somewhere in the forest, far beyond anyone’s reach. Lillian stood, her chest heaving, her eyes locked on Derrick. “It’s over,” she said, her voice shaking but steady. “You’ve lost.” Derrick’s face darkened, his rage boiling over. But without the coin, he had nothing. The game was over.

My teammates clapped shoulders, slapped sticks together. I couldn’t even look up. Because I knew. We’d won the game by one point, barely—but I’d lost something way more personal out there. He didn’t just make a fool out of me. He fucking dismantled me.

I get the clap from my offensive coach, and I nod at the little recognition he gives during a game for a job well done. We get the field goal and then kick the ball back to Cowboys. There’s only three minutes left in the game, and I doubt I’ll get back on the field today. I watch as the poor defensive team makes a valiant effort to turn the ball back over to us, but time runs out and we lose, 28-21. I am beyond frustrated and angry with my teammates, and I seriously think I’m terminating my contract. I can’t deal with this any longer and being away from Maddie is killing me. I need her and I want to go back to the pack, be her mate and start our family. This team I no longer consider family,

He skated in, pulling two defenders with him. I cut toward the net. He looked at me. For a second, time slowed. The spark hit again. That strange pull. Anger and something softer under it. We moved well together when we let ourselves. He passed. But I had already shifted left, thinking he would keep it. The puck slid through empty space. Their defense cleared it. The buzzer screamed. Game over. We lost. The locker room was silent. No music. No jokes. Blake sat across from me, unlacing his skates with sharp pulls. His hands were steady. Too steady.

“At a point he had the lead, but you covered it in one shot.” Emeril watched him, smiling. “I doubt you are simply stating an observation.” “No,” he admitted. “You let him think he had a chance, did you not?” Emeril smirked. “I did.” “Why?” “Because nobody likes losing. Even if they lose, they’ll come back, as long as they think they almost won. They’ll always think they had a chance; always think they were so close. Always fail to realize the lie.” Recently that was how Sethlzaar’s games with Soartin had being going. He was always finding himself close to victory, only to lose it. He’s playing you.