The Game Of Quadruplet Mates
(Bk 2) Chapter 18

"I will not be wearing any bracelet either." O says when the organizer asks him, his hand still on his wrist like he was feeling the ghost of my bracelet that he threw back at me last night.

In the end, Mister W, F and 0 all didn't wear any bracelets as the organizer gathers them all to get ready for the contest.

No one else but me received a bracelet from the participants. And it was from Mister W. I held it with my fingers, tracing the leather as mats were carefully laid down on the grassy ground so the contestants didn't slip and break their necks. The rules were simple enough. Everyone starts with the lightest weight and they must all lift it from the ground over their heads. Anyone that cannot lift it overhead is out. Each round they add more and more and more weight until there is only one left. The strongest.

There were about twenty of them competing, all bigger and stronger than the last, but the confidence of Mister Wand O is what brought them apart from everyone else.

They knew they were going to win.

The question was... who would come out on top?

Lined up around the clearing, the participants prepared themselves with all of them removing their buttoned up tops and providing us with a clear view of hard muscles that was more than I could count.

Miss E cat called them all, hooting and gawking

Miss A knew what she was doing when she chose these seats as we were close, ridiculously close, enough to see the veins in the participants' arms or how sweat trickled down their chests. It was a very flustering sight to behold

I tried not to stare, busying myself by drinking from my bottomless liquor and poking at the food that was offered to me.

"Look at the veins coming out of his pants." Miss E not so quietly, whispers to us, eyeing Mister Wand O. "D a mn, imagine if he didn't have pants."

This made me choke on my drink, the strong alcohol going down the wrong pipe as I was unable to look at both boys.

With both E and A enamored by what's in front of them, my guard comes to my rescue, handing me a glass of water and patting my back.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asks, his mouth pulled up in a scowl.

"Not at all." I choked out, blinking to get the tears out of my eyes.

My guard was hovering over me, his eyes boring down on me, but what grabbed my attention was his pants-particularly the pockets as I saw the tips of lace and pink flowers on them. It was my bracelet.

But he said he didn't have it.

Our eyes locked, his lips still pressed close, but he had seen what I had just seen and quickly shoved his hand in his pockets. He quickly returns to stand behind me, eyes faraway.

1 didn't have much time to understand it as the organizer clapped his hands, once more signalling the start of the contest.

The first that they were going to lift was at least twice my weight as big, thick plates were slid into the bars. With a cheer, the organizer told them to begin and all the participants bent down to grab their barbells and with a snap they all lifted their barbels over their heads with ease.

Except for Mister O who lifted it with only one arm, making all the girls s c re a m as he held it there for a long time before bringing it down.

He makes it a point to look at me, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

I do not know what he was doing but the desired effect was instant, as I felt my heart start hammering itself against my ribs.

With everyone passing to the next round, the organizer doubles the weight and still 0 does the same thing, carrying the barbell with only one hand, his eyes on me the entire time.

We lose the first few participants in this round, Mister F along with them.

But no one lingers, everyone's eyes on Mister Wand O, who haven't shown any signs of slowing down yet. Round after round after round came and it was only the two of them left now. The weight they were lifting was heavier than all the problems in the world. Sweat was now dripping down both their bodies, their chests and arms pulsing with muscle as they continued to lift and lift and lift.

The bars were bending, the weight too much to bear, but they still continued. Their bodies were at their limits. I can see how their muscles contracted and tightened.

I do not know if the crowd was still cheering or if they had gone completely mute like me. Either way, I could not hear them over the beating of my heart.

Behind Mister Wand 0, the organizers are discussing what to do. They were about to run out of weight plates to add.

Should they crown both of them before it goes horribly?

Just as the organizers look to have decided on something, Mister W nearly topples over with his barbell with three-six of the staff helping him up.

Now I know that the crowd goes wild, all waiting for 0.

Because if he lifts this, he is the winner.

It was all on him now.

O looks at me one last time, his gaze burning me from the inside. He bent to grasp the barbel that cried over the unbelievable weight of the plates on either side and, with one deep breath, his arms that were so tight and taut, pulled and pulled and with a flick, the bar was over his head.

People are s cre a min g, I am sure now. Every single one of the attendees was on their feet.

All except me who he stared at.

The barbel breaks then, literally snaps as the weight plates fall to the ground, shaking the entire clearing and the trees with disturbed birds flying over us

But he was okay.

And he had won.

"OUR WINNER, MISTER O!"

Everyone rushed forward, running to him and taking his arms or touching his back. Anything to get close to him.

Champagne and whatever else is sprayed all over 0, showering him in sparkle. Still, he did not break eye contact as dozens upon dozens of attendees celebrated his win beside him.

I tilted my head in his direction, giving him a quiet congratulation.

He winks at me, the smile I'm used to back on his lips, but I do not return it, keeping my eyes on the table.

"I did not expect that at all." Miss E says to us, finishing yet another glass. "I'm a little disappointed."

I do not tell her that I am proud, dizzyingly proud of O. More than a pack member should be.

Because if I said it, it would make it real.

And it would mean, I still hoped, confirming that I was foolish. Terribly foolish.

The celebration didn't stop for a very long time, cheering O like he was the new King. I remained where I was with Miss A and Miss E, playing a drinking game about how many women would come to try and steal a kiss from O.

So far, we were at twenty nine glasses already and, with the way my stomach was twisting - hopefully not because of jealousy or some sort, it has been a lot.

It was maybe an hour or so later when the organizer asked for everyone to take their seats. "Our winner will now be choosing who he shall award his pin to!"

The entire clearing quiets, with hopeful girls clutching their hearts. I kept my head low, hunched over my table as I drank and drank and drank.

I did not want to know who he was giving that pin to.

I know it will not be me.

I know it will be-

"Miss X, His voice shook the entire clearing and I swear I hear whimpers from the other girls as he said this." Remember your promise."

I could not breathe. I could not think.

We were less than friends and strangers, we were nothing.

That's what I said, wasn't it?

He wanted nothing to do with me, right?

But as he said... I promised.

I don't even remember what I promised.

Something in me wanted to cry along with the other girls, but I surprised myself by standing up, my legs steady despite how wobbly I felt and when he approached me with the pin in his hand, it was all over for me. I still cared.

We were not strangers to me.

He says nothing more as he places the beautiful pin right above my heart.

I could feel him staring, waiting for me to look up, but I am a coward who doesn't. I don't even thank him as he steps away and the organizer announces the next contest.

"This will not only be our only contest of the day!" The happy organizer declared. "There is another and this time it will require a team of two. One man and one woman.

The attendees glanced around each other, confused. This must be a new thing.

"We call it shoulder fight." The organizer explains to us."

The way this will go is that one of the two participants will be sitting on their teammate's shoulders. And then meeting in the middle, the object of the game is to knock down or separate the opposing team. If one falls from the shoulders of their teammate, they are out. Whoever is left standing, wins."

This excites everyone as this is the most contact there's ever been in the contests.

"Since Mister O won the contest before this, he will be the first to choose his partner."

As if on cue, the attendees looked at 0 and then to me, who he awarded the pin to.

I replace myself looking at him, our eyes meeting for the first time. My stomach twisted again, making it hard to breathe.

Was he going to choose me?

But he opens his mouth and I am stunned.

Because he doesn't call me even if I thought he was going to.

With the way he was looking, I thought that it would be me he would call, but it wasn't.

His lips say letter that isn't mine.

He calls a random girl I haven't seen before in my life to stand beside him and when he takes her hand, I think I might throw up, the alcohol I happily drank coming up the way it came.

I should have known better.

I should have.