Playing For Keeps Meaning Novels & Stories

“So what exactly are we playing tonight, Vero? You built this up like it’s going to be the highlight of the week, but if it’s just another lame round of charades or something tame like that, I’m out before we even begin.” Her tone carried that sharp, teasing lilt she always used when she wanted to poke at me, the kind that stirred up memories of her whispering similar challenges in my ear while her hands wandered lower, and I could already feel my pulse quicken at the thought, my skin warming under her gaze. I let a slow smirk spread across my face as I shuffled the cards between my fingers, the familiar snap of them echoing softly in the room. “Trust me, it’s nothing like charades, and defi

Riley said, shoving another forkful of pancake in his mouth. “Guess what we get to do later?” Jack said, trying to lighten the mood. “What?” Riley asked without enthusiasm. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?” Riley frowned. “Forgot what?” “Do the words Paper Gate mean anything to you?” Riley’s eyes went wide. “You got the game?” “I got the game,” Jack said with a grin. “Can we play it now?” “Nope. Eat your breakfast and get dressed. After the visit with your mum, we’ll play.”

"Why don't we play a game to take your mind off things for a bit?” The game they haven’t played in so long—seven minutes in heaven, is now the only bud of hope that could cradle both their anxiety and longing to feel each other close. A sin so sweet that not even Reigna herself could say no or worry about tomorrow. "Fine," she huffed, averting her gaze as she played with the hem of his shirt. "But we're sticking to the rules this time, Carlisle. Just seven minutes, no funny business." Ah. But that clearly is a form of denial, isn’t it?

“Hey, Charlie, my man? That’s not how you play, man. You can’t just hog the ball like that—” “F*ck what you think, loser! Who the f*ck are you to stop me, huh? This is how I’ve always played basketball!” Charlie snarled. “Tell you what, I’ve never lost a single game throughout my life. I’m number one, and no one—I repeat, no one—has ever kept up with me!”

"Come on dude, we should celebrate and you should forget about that fancy debutante of yours. You know I smell trouble the first time mom tried to introduce you to her. She looked too happy." My younger brother Winston kept on nagging me, to come to Players tonight. I was actually looking forward to relaxing and drown myself in pity. "Okay...Winnie, but just for a couple of hours okay? I got to go to the beach house tomorrow and air out the house. I need to start my training for my next championship." I said as I start getting my fresh shirt from the walk-in closet.

"Real hot." Speaking of real hot... "Evans, are you gonna play, or what?" "Right, sorry." I pick up my hand, giving the cards a cursory look. I'm not really invested in the game, so I don't really care if I lose. All I have to do is listen to my friends talk, contribute a little to the conversation, pretend I'm playing poker, and give Carolina as many orgasms as I possibly can. "So what are you gonna do about it?" Declan asks Reed, perusing his cards.

Bruce watched other company of families playing the same game, perharps a bit shamed by what he has said? "What am I going to do pal?"he asked. "You shoot a ball into this basket." the gamekeeper artificial red lips broadened. "And get it to stay. it has to." "That is silly."bruce yelped."its almost a mile away and for a worthless price." "Please,honey do it for Adulf, please?" It began with an over high arc and backspin. non landed in the front of the baskets after many tries and Bruce hadn't won. the gamekeeper was laughing but Bruce had made it his destiny to win.

"I'm tired of it. Maybe I should have just let the pieces fall." "No," I countered, looking at him seriously. "The point of Checkers is to make it to the other side and become a King. You can't do that if you stay on the defensive your whole life." The clinic room, with its sterile white walls and quiet hum of machinery, became our temporary sanctuary, a place where the rules of the corporate world didn't apply. We played, we laughed over his terrible attempts at bluffing during a round of Crazy Eights, and we slowly, piece by piece, put our broken emotional connection back together.

He changes the single-mode to a duel. "Is that why you called me?" I asked and paused the game. "Of course." He said and resumed the game. "That's not the way to call someone for PLAYIN A GAME." I said stressing on words 'playing a game' and paused again. "Doesn't matter. Now play please." He resumed again.

"Where’s Ethan?" "Uncle Ethan is with... a friend." "Playing?" "Yeah," I said, a bitter edge slipping into my words. "They’re playing a very high-stakes game of keep-away." "With a toy?" "With something our friend treated like a toy for a long time," I whispered. "And with something else. Something much more precious."