Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Four

FOUR

DEER

I ’m not fine.

I haven’t slept in days.

Well, technically, I’ve slept in random thirty-minute intervals, but that doesn’t really count. The second my body begins to doze off, there will be some sort of tiny noise that rocks me right back to reality and sends my blood pressure spiking. It also doesn’t help that every time I close my eyes, my overactive imagination conjures scenarios where the SWAT team actually fires off their guns, and I just see myself sprawled on my floor, bright red blood pooling against my pink hair.

I’ve clocked in over forty-two hours of The Sims , thirty-six hours of Cherry Farm: Harvest Season , and twenty-nine hours of Moonstone Valley in the last five days, and that isn’t even counting the beta testing I’m doing for a new Kickstarter cozy game. It’s not normal, even for me.

On the bright side, I have enough content filmed to last through the next month easily. On the negative side, it made me realize I need to upgrade my CPU because I’ve noticed a few of the mods lagging.

Some people—prejudiced, misogynistic people—think spending four grand on a setup to play simulators is excessive, but those people don’t truly grasp the processing power it takes to run thirty-plus mods. In my baby gamer days, my laptop used to run so hot you could have tried cooking an egg on it.

I sigh, looking in the mirror that hangs on the back of my front door, and press the bags under my eyes, begging them to go away.

Today is the first day I’m leaving my apartment, and I’ve been standing at the door for fifteen minutes, willing myself to exit. My right hand is poised on the doorknob. All I need to do is turn the damn thing. But I just can’t bring my body to function—a cloud of fear is cancelling out all rational thoughts.

My phone buzzes a few times, and I reach down to pull it out of my heart-shaped handbag to see a slew of texts in my group chat, which is aptly named “MURDER SQUAD.”

LEE: Where are you guyssss

STEVIE: literally in the elevator

SYD-BAE: coming

ME: that’s what she said

STEVIE: nice

SYD-BAE: sometimes youre as bad as my boyfriend

ME: /3

LEE: Deer?

ME: on my way

I groan, clicking off my phone and dumping it back in my bag. I know there’s no avoiding this. The girls would sooner come over here than let me skip out on Crime Night without a solid reason—and there is no way I’m letting them know just how much this swatting has been affecting me.

Pushing past the fear, I twist the doorknob and take my first step past the threshold of my apartment. My breath freezes in my lungs, and I strain my ears for anything that might sound off.

When no random assassin drops from the ceiling to murder me, I let myself take another step forward, and then another, until I make it all the way down the hallway and into the elevator. My body moves like a robot, but at least it’s functioning.

It’s only when I get down to the lobby that I stall again.

There’s a man in a black hoodie and black face mask parked on one of the couches by the community pool table. Most people wouldn’t give him a second glance, but I do. Because I recognize him just by his eyes.

My platform heels click softly on the tiles as I make my way to him. I force myself to calm and let my mask settle over me with practiced precision—no hint of anxiety leaking out. It’s only when I stop right in front of him that he looks up from the mobile game on his phone. My skin heats from the intensity of his gaze, his eyes swirling pools of bottomless black framed by thick lashes.

“Why are you here?”

“You headed out?” He meets my bluntness tit for tat.

“Um, yeah. I’m going over to Lee’s.”

“’Kay, let’s go.” He stands up, his chest coming to rest mere inches from my nose.

I take a startled step back as he steps around me to head out of the complex. My brain glitches for a second as I stare at his retreating form.

“Uh…what?”

I jog to catch up to his long strides. The fresh outside air fills my lungs as I pass through the revolving door and into the late afternoon sun.

“I’ll drive you.”

“Did you come all the way here just to drive me to Crime Night?” I quirk a brow.

Jackson hands a ticket to the valet outside my apartment before turning back to give me a bored look.

“I was in the area and Lee asked.”

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to determine whether he is telling the truth. It annoys me that he can read me like a book, while I struggle to even read his blurb.

An Army green Jeep comes to a stop before us, and Jackson opens the passenger door. “Do you want to be late?”

I let out a huff, hauling my ass into the passenger seat. “I could have driven myself,” I mutter as he gets into the driver’s side.

Jackson says nothing. He just removes his face mask and hood before putting the car in drive. I pull my phone out of my handbag to fiddle with it, but really, I’m just using it as an excuse while I stare at him out of the corner of my eye.

It’s frustrating how attractive he is. His long black hair isn’t tied in a bun for once, and the ends graze the top of his shoulders. My fingers twitch to rake my nails through it. This isn’t the first time I’ve had the urge, and if the last year had taught me anything, it’s that this urge isn’t going anywhere soon.

My eyes trail down his arms to the strong hands gripping the steering wheel. Last Halloween he’d worn this super tight T-shirt that showed off every muscle on his perfectly sculpted body, and I’d spent more time than I’d ever confess to drooling over him. He is the kind of guy who could toss you over his shoulder without a second thought.

And I have thought about it.

There was a time when I harbored a tiny little crush on him. But super tiny and it was ages ago when I first met him. I’d quickly snuffed out that crush once I realized that he sees me as a by-product of his other friendships—an acquaintance at best. He’s never made the effort with me before, this car drive notwithstanding. So, I’ve just accepted that while I find him hot as hell, it’s just a physical thing. His grumpy personality has left more to be desired.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring.” There’s a glint in Jackson’s eyes as he drawls out the words.

“So?” I can feel a flush creeping up my cheeks, but the amount of blush on my face hides any hint of it.

“Just making an observation,” he muses, turning his attention back to the road. “You seemed preoccupied.”

“I was just thinking about how they say men with big hands tend to have big penises.”

The car jerks as Jackson’s head whips to me, his eyes wide. I feel a sliver of satisfaction as his mouth opens and closes—even though I’m mentally kicking myself for saying that. I don’t know why I say the randomest things when I’m around him…and now I’m thinking about his cock when I seriously don’t need to be.

“Although, I’m not really sure there is any scientific evidence backing that statement. Not that I’ve Googled it or anything, but it’s food for thought,” I continue to babble, even though I wish I would just shut-up.

Jackson clenches his jaw. “You’re spending too much time around Stephanie.”

“I’m always like this.” I shrug, pretending to clean under my nails.

Jackson doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride, and I can’t tell whether he is miffed with me or just embarrassed by my comment.

The car rolls to a stop outside Lee’s opulent apartment complex, and I waste no time unbuckling my seat belt and popping open the door.

“Well, thanks for the ride. I’ll be sure to give you a four-star rating.”

“What time will you be done?”

I halt, one foot on the asphalt, and turn back to him. “What do you mean?”

“Your little Crime Night, when does it finish?”

I frown. “I don’t know. Depends on how much we drink. Why?”

Typically, if we have a particularly tipsy Crime Night, I end up just crashing at Lee’s instead of waiting to sober up and drive back. Occasionally, Syd will drop me off at home, but then I have to deal with getting my car the next day, and that always ends up being a pain. If it is a pretty sober night, I drive myself home, but there is never any telling how a Crime Night will turn out. That is the beauty of them.

“So I can drive you home.”

“Why? I’ll just have Stevie or Syd take me.”

His eyes give me a quick once over before he turns away from me. “Fine.”

“Okay, bye.”

I shut the door, half expecting him to take off and leave me in a cloud of dust, but instead he just waits. When another second passes and he just stares at me through the window, I give up and turn around to walk into the building.

I really do not understand that man.

“Evening, Miss Deer,” the doorman greets me when I walk inside.

“Evening, Bill,” I smile back before making my way to the elevators. I come here often enough that I am practically an honorary resident. It is a stunning apartment complex, almost as nice as the one The System lives in.

I eventually reach Lee’s floor and stand outside her door, taking a deep breath and centering myself before punching in the code and walking inside.

“Your favorite human has arrived,” I chime in with a smile.

“Hi,” Stevie’s voice trills back.

Lee’s head pops around the corner from her kitchen, and she gives me a massive grin before bounding over and crushing me in a hug.

“I missed your face.”

“I missed yours, too,” I say, squeezing her back.

“Come, I need help making a drink. I’m out of ideas.”

“What would you do without me?”

“Dunno.” She cocks her head. “Buy premades, probably?”

“Fair.” I open her fridge and scan it before taking out a carton of watermelon juice, a can of club soda, maple syrup, and lime juice. One of our rituals for Crime Night is making different alcoholic concoctions; sometimes they are failures—like our coconut rum hot chocolate—and sometimes they are total wins—such as our peach schnapps-spiked boba.

“I didn’t think you’d come for a second there,” Lee whispers.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “I considered it.”

“Deer.” Empathy fills her voice, and I give her a stern look.

“Don’t. I’m fine.” I reach for the vodka and begin to mix all the ingredients together before pouring the pink concoction into two glasses with some ice. I hold one out to Lee. “I just want to enjoy a little murder, okay?”

“Okay.” She takes the glass from me with pursed lips, giving me a once over. “We decided on unsolved crimes tonight, by the way.”

“Fun.” I give her a wink before taking the lead and heading into her living room.

While my aesthetic might be e-girl pink, Lee’s aesthetic is just aesthetic . Everything about her apartment is pretty, from the meticulously cared-for aquarium below her giant TV, to the opalescent coffee table, to the moon-shaped lamp. It gives lunar princess vibes.

I drop onto the couch, snuggling myself into the corner as I take a sip of my watermelon concoction. It isn’t half bad.

“Syd’s not here yet?”

“Nope. I think you were right, she was probably coming,” Stevie smirks.

I snort and Lee lets out a muttered, “Oh my God.”

“Let’s start, and we can catch her up.” I reach forward and grab the remote to flip to the right channel and pull up our show.

“I’m fine with that. To the murder,” Lee cheers, holding her drink out.

“To the murder,” Stevie echoes with her own wine glass.

“To the murder,” I smile, finally feeling at ease.