Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Eight

EIGHT

DEER

“ W hat the fuck, Deer?”

I grin, my cheeks splitting wide. “What?”

“You’re screen peeking,” Aleks huffs.

“I am not.”

I definitely am.

“Oh, yeah? Then explain how I just died?”

“Because you’re a lousy player, Blade.”

“Bullshit.”

“Sometimes even the king must admit defeat,” I croon, cocking my rifle as I run my character across the map.

“I thought you hated shooters.”

“I do. I get performance anxiety; I’m sure you know what that is.”

Stevie lets out a cackle, and I let my attention slip as I turn to give her a conspiratorial smile. Her long legs are strewn over Aleks’ lap from the other side of the couch as she sketches in her notepad.

The elevator pings open, but Aleks and I don’t move, locked in a stalemate, our eyes focused on the TV screen.

He isn’t wrong. I do typically suck at first-person shooter games, and I wouldn’t attempt to play FrozeLine or Kill Strike if my life depended on it. But Frontline Doom ? I’m not that awful at it—I’m actually kinda decent. I just hate playing online ‘cause the male population gets weird and judgy which makes me nervous and ends in my own performance anxiety. I don’t know how Lee does it as a career, streaming these every day.

But it doesn’t matter how passable I am at the game, Aleks is a million times better.

So, yes, I am screen peeking to get an advantage.

Sue me for wanting to win.

My eyes flick from my half of the TV over to Aleks’, and I let out a curse as I watch his character headshot me with a pistol.

“Mother fucker.”

“For someone so tiny, you have the vocabulary of a sailor.”

“Blame my da.”

I focus my gaze on the map to find a way from the respawn point back to where Aleks just killed me. This is exactly what I needed tonight—a total distraction from reality. I might be a solo gamer ninety percent of the time, but there really is nothing better than finding a game to play with friends.

“Hi, Jackson.” Stevie’s lilt pulls me from my focus, and I turn to follow her gaze.

Jackson grumbles a response as he tosses his keys into the bowl by the elevator and kicks off his sneakers. I trace the lines of his arms as he reaches behind his head to tie his black hair in a knot at the base of his neck.

“Bad date?” She pushes, pausing to look at a fake watch on her wrist. “You weren’t gone long.”

Jackson remains silent, meandering into the kitchen and opening the fridge to take out a beer.

“Grab me one,” Aleks calls out.

Jackson sighs, pulling a second beer from the fridge.

“Oh, I’ll take some wine while you’re at it,” Stevie jumps in.

Which means I obviously have to join as well. “I’ll take some wine, too. Or a seltzer.”

He levels me a glare, but I just grin even though I’m a little miffed. He didn’t mention having a date tonight when I talked with him this morning. I’d thought that since he is the one who stubbornly brought me here that maybe he did consider us friends. But no.

Nope, we aren’t even close enough for that.

Jackson plops the two beers, a bottle of white wine, and a cherry seltzer on the coffee table.

“What, no glass?” Stevie cocks her head.

“Do I look like your butler? Get it yourself.”

She lets out a tsk and swings her legs off her boyfriend. “Definitely a bad date.”

Jackson continues to grumble as he cracks open the beer and takes a long sip. Curiosity gets the better of me.

“She wasn’t nice?”

“She was fine.”

“She wasn’t hot?” Aleks reaches for his beer.

“Aleksander,” Stevie chastises, sinking back down on the couch next to him and pouring a healthy glass of wine. “Be nice.”

Jackson holds his hand out to me, and I stare at it in confusion. He nods, angling his chin down at the controller in my lap. “The date was fine, she’s just not my type. None of them are.” The tips of his fingers brush against my thumb as he tugs the controller from my hands.

The boys start a new match, but I struggle to keep my attention on the screen, my gaze slipping to Jackson over and over again.

“What?” His eyes clash with mine.

“That was, like, your fifth date, wasn’t it?”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

“It’s just morbid curiosity, like watching a plane crash.”

“Sure.”

I take a sip of the cherry seltzer, eyeing him over the can. “It’s a pity. All those good looks and you can’t even land a girlfriend.”

His brows pull together and he starts to open his mouth but Aleks’ voice cuts in. “Sucks to suck, loser.” Jackson flicks his attention back to the screen, and he lets out a curse as Aleks rains a parade of bullets at his character and continues to mock him. “You’re really off your game, bro. Literally and figuratively.”

“Let me get one thing straight,” Jackson uses the controller to punctuate his words, “I could date any of those women if I wanted to. I just don’t.”

“Then why bother with the dates?” I ask.

“Because I have to. At least, until my grandmother gives up.”

“Dude, your grandma is even more stubborn than you,” Aleks chuckles. “You’re going to be stuck going on dates until your dick shrivels up.”

“That’s not…” he trails off. “Fuck.”

“See.”

“Why don’t you just date one of them for a little while, get her off your back?” Stevie’s suggestion turns the fizz in my stomach sour. “You could break up after like a month, but at least it’ll show you tried.”

“I thought about that,” he admits.

“And?” The singular word feels like tar as it passes through my lips.

“And I don’t want to lead someone on,” he sighs.

“Your funeral,” Aleks and Stevie say simultaneously.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his beer.

And then, my brain malfunctions.

Aliens come down from some alternate universe and zap me, frying any sensibility and making me say something that is so out of pocket that I honestly wish the ground would swallow me up and chuck me on some distant planet to die.

“I’ll date you.”

Everyone’s silent. There’s just the sound of the grenade Aleks’ character launched exploding.

“What?” Jackson looks at me like I have three heads—which I might, you know, if the aliens are involved.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Stevie leans forward and curls her hand around my shoulder. “Not bad at all.”

“That’s a fucking awful idea,” Jackson exclaims, and my insides shrivel up and die. He sounds absolutely appalled by the idea, which is just fabulous for my self-esteem.

I square my shoulders, letting his insult roll off my back as I drain the last of my seltzer.

“Rude. I’ll have you know that I am a delightful girlfriend.”

“Delightfully awful.”

“I’m going to be honest, I’m on the same page as Jackson here,” Aleks interrupts. “Not the best idea.”

I glare at him for the betrayal, but he’s still zoned into the game.

“Don’t give me that look,” Aleks drawls.

Okay, apparently he has the peripheral vision of a freaking shark.

“All right, go on then. Throw in your two cents,” I huff.

“You’re a little,” he tilts his head side to side, “pink.”

Jackson snorts and I grit my teeth.

“What’s wrong with that?”

This time, Aleks does give me a glance. He even goes so far as to pair it with a weak smile. “I’m not sure dating you would be a solution to the issue. You’d probably freak his family out and make it worse.”

“Yeah, Sparkles, you’re not really their ideal type,” Jackson tacks on.

Okay, I’m a little offended.

“Whatever, it was just a joke.” I attempt to brush the entire conversation under the rug.

Aleks, however, doesn’t seem to get the message.

“Although,” he drawls as his gaze returns to the game. Aleks manages to get a few shots off at Jackson’s character before losing him to a flash bang. “Maybe if you dated Deer, your family would be so appalled that they wouldn’t care if you didn’t date at all, so long as it wasn’t her.”

And now I’m a little more than a little offended.

“That’s also not a bad idea, babe,” Stevie chimes in.

“Hey,” I counter. “I’m a nice person. People love me. I’m sunshine and rainbows and fucking unicorns.”

“You swear in every third sentence,” Jackson deadpans.

“I’m Irish, sue me.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t want a fake girlfriend.”

“Well, I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend—even if you beg. Who would want to be tied to your grumpy arse?”

Jackson gives me a once over, the slightest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Sure.”

My eyes narrow. “Try me.”

He doesn’t deign to give me a response, just goes back to ignoring me and playing with Aleks. Frustration bubbles under my skin, uncontained energy coursing through me.

A light tap on my hand pulls me from the death glare I’m trying to laser into Jackson’s brain.

“You good?” Stevie mouths to me. Her eyes dip to where my nails are digging into my biceps.

I release my grip, little red crescents marring my pale skin. With a deep breath, I plaster a smile on my face and roll my eyes. “ Yeah. Boys,” I mouth back.

She gives a light chuckle before holding her wine glass out to me. I carefully pluck it from her grip and take a healthy gulp, pushing my emotions to the side.

But now that the idea is in my head, it starts swimming around, and some strange kernel in my chest lights up. Jackson’s hot. Dating him wouldn’t be a chore in the looks department. Plus, I might even feel comfortable enough to leave the apartment with someone like him by my side. He would be like my own personal bodyguard.

Except, the idea seems as appealing to him as broccoli to a toddler. It doesn’t matter how good I might be for him; he’s just going to push me to the side until someone forces his hand.