Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Fifty

FIFTY

DEER

O NE MONTH LATER

“ A re you fucking kidding me?”

“What’s wrong?” I frown as I focus in the mirror on slotting another pin into the left space bun I twisted atop my hair.

“He rejected me!” Jackson shouts incredulously from the bedroom. “I spent the last six hours wooing this man, doing all the little things he likes—including wasting one of my days helping that annoying band camp chick—and he just rejects me? What a fucking douche.”

I stifle my laugh. “Let me see.”

He hops off the bed, stalking over as I tuck the last flyaway behind my ear.

“Look.” He holds out the Switch like he’s presenting a badge.

I turn and squint at the screen, looking at the different statistics of Lucien LaRue, one of the conquerable love interests in Love Love Passion School: Summer Session .

“Ah.” I tap the screen with the tip of my nail. “You’re half a sun rating off.”

“What? I thought you said it only mattered what the heart ratings were.”

“Yes, on normal mode. But you’re the one who insisted that he was too good for that, picked hard mode, and then said you didn’t want any help because that was cheating .”

He tsks.

“I told you that hard mode is no cakewalk; those men are a finicky lot.”

“Whatever,” he huffs.

He is such a sore loser, but I have to admit it has been funny watching him these past few days trying and mostly failing to win some of my otome games.

Since he arrived here four weeks ago, Jackson has helped me ease my way back into gaming. No streaming or content filming—nope, he just lies next to me on the bed as we both play our Switches, or he sits next to me when we’re on our laptops. He gives me commentary on when he thinks I’m picking the wrong villager to woo or animal to invite to my farm. Thanks to him, I now have this ugly octopus resident on my Cherry Farm , and it looks like I’m going to marry the hot florist girl in my new Moonstone Valley save file.

He's helping me see the world as fun again, and I couldn’t be more grateful that he has stuck by my side. He hasn’t wavered once, encouraging me and letting me take my time but still pushing me when he knows I can handle it—even when I doubt myself.

Which is why today is so important.

“You look cute.” Jackson gives me a knowing smile, eyes lingering on the way my breasts aren’t exactly hiding in my House of CB pink floral sundress.

“Thank you.” I grin, cupping my hands under my chin in a V shape and wink at him.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve gotten more and more back to myself, back to being Deer. The excitement I used to feel at picking out my outfits for the day has returned piece by piece— a skirt here, some heels there. I am able to face myself in the mirror now without seeing a zombie staring back. My naturally flushed cheeks have returned, bringing color to my still pale skin—because Ireland is not the place to live if you hope to get any sort of tan.

“Let me get my sneakers on and we can head out.” He drops me a quick kiss.

With his back turned, I take a deep breath, fisting my hands at my sides. I close my eyes, letting that breath sit in my lungs as I center myself.

I can do this.

“Ready?”

I open my eyes.

“Yup.”

***

My hands tighten on the steering wheel the closer we get, and I can’t stop my gaze from constantly flicking back and forth between the road and the GPS—watching as the kilometers slowly tick down. I’m pretty sure my neck is going to be stiff as a tree trunk by the time we get there.

Less than ten kilometers now.

Jackson reaches down and places his hand on my left thigh, calming the way it jostles up and down. It happens every once in a while, and he always seems to notice, even when he is deep into playing games on his phone.

I focus on my breathing as the traffic gets a bit more congested. I’d thought that by picking a weekday it wouldn’t be so busy, but it is Dublin after all.

I’ve spent the last month and a bit building up to this, learning to calm my anxiety. From walking around the empty fields at the house, to sitting at the pier and listening to the fishermen go about their days, to venturing into the town itself and slowly staying longer and longer each time. Last Thursday, we’d spent the entire day out, and then we’d gone to the Sunday market, which is the busiest place in town, and I was there for three hours before I needed to get out of the crowds.

Today, I am taking the next step. I know if I can do this…

I smile to myself, that sparkle of hope shining within me.

We cross the threshold of River Liffey into the main city center, and it takes us a solid thirty minutes until we’re able to find a place to park the car. I press the stop button and wait as the music in the car switches off and the quiet rumble of the engine disappears. All that’s left is the noise of the city around us.

I can do this.

I’m safe.

There’s no one here out to get me.

Rick is behind bars, awaiting his court date. Paige has been working with the prosecutor’s office and says the case they have is iron clad.

Unbuckling my seat belt, I reach for the door handle and open it before I can second-guess myself. The chatter of the street becomes louder without the walls of the car to muffle it—but the market on the weekend prepared me for this.

Jackson quickly rounds the car and comes to my side, offering me his hand. I take it, feeling his warmth as he gives me a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, here we are.”

I take a deep breath, looking around. “Yup, here we are. We are here. In Dublin. Very cool.”

Jackson chuckles at my nervous babbling, and I shoot him an annoyed pout.

“Come on.” He smiles, tugging me onto the sidewalk. “What are you going to show me first?”

I perk up. “St. Stephen’s Green.”

We begin walking down the brown brick street, and he lets me chatter away, chuckling while I talk nonsense.

As we near Grafton Street, the prattle around us gets rowdier and the road begins to cram up with more bodies. It’s the most touristy path in town and mostly stacked with chain restaurants and shops. My palms start to sweat as my attention bounces between all the people walking near us.

I veer us onto Wicklow Street, which is still busy but not as stifling. It’s lined on both sides with three- to four-story red brick buildings. People walk on both the sidewalk and the black stone road, filling up the entire path as they wade through. They pass in and out of shops, and I’ll admit, what is supposed to be a ten-minute walk ends up taking us close to twenty because my feet drag a little slower.

It’s one of the things that is most confusing. You would think because of how alert I am about my surroundings and the way my heart is beating a few ticks higher, that I would be trying to rush through, but it’s the opposite. I lag, constantly cataloguing everything around me.

The crowds start to thicken again as we near the park, the clear skies and gentle temperature bringing out everyone in a fifty-mile radius. It seems like everyone is watching me, and I make eye contact with more than a dozen people, only confirming the feeling. That telltale crawl of ants over my skin starts to appear, and I step a little closer to Jackson while fortifying my mental walls.

He squeezes my hand, bringing me out of my head, and I realize I’ve been quiet the last few minutes.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. How’re you holding up?”

“Fine. It’s just,” I swallow, “there are a lot more people staring than I expected.”

Jackson hums. He doesn’t try to tell me I’m just imagining it, that people aren’t ogling us as we pass. Instead he says, “Well, that’s what happens when you’re gorgeous.”

“Or when you look like a walking pink highlighter,” I counter.

“Then you’re the most high-end highlighter a stationary enthusiast can purchase.”

“Thank you?” I laugh as the ants on my skin trickle away, replaced by the mild warmth of the sun shining down.

He cringes. “I spent too much time around Parker when you were gone. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Or what? You’ll gag me?”

His eyes heat and he leans down, lightly gripping my chin. “Oh, I’m going to do that anyway, Sparkles. That’s a promise.”

My thighs squeeze together, his words igniting that need deep within me. I push past the flush that’s creeping up my cheeks and raise my brow, taunting him. “Promises, promises. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He smirks before catching me in a quick, blinding kiss, his tongue snaking past my defenses and sweeping inside me with a moan. My mind swims all dizzily as he pulls back and snakes his arm around my ribs, tugging me close, his thumb grazing the fabric beneath my breast.

My body is like a marshmallow on fire, melting under his hot touch.

Being with Jackson is an easy distraction from all my worries. There’s no one else on this earth, in this universe, who is able to clear my mind like he does.

We continue wandering around the park, stopping a few times to take pictures and lingering on the bridge to watch the way the stream bubbles, before we make our way to Dublin Castle.

The gray stone former medieval fortress is less packed than usual, and we’re able to take our time exploring all the history. We head down to the cooler Subterranean Chamber, where all the original fortifications are preserved, before trekking back up to get some fresh air in the gardens. As we amble over to St. Patrick’s Hall, where the ceiling is covered by three large canvas paintings by Vincenzo Waldré, I can’t help but think of Stevie, how she would love this.

I miss my friends.

By the time we leave the castle, my social battery begins to wane again. Being around large crowds for the last few hours has drained me more than I realized, but not once did I feel like I was going to have a panic attack.

That knowledge brightens the sparkles within me, and I know I’m about to make the right choice—that I’m ready for that choice.

We head to a hole-in-the-wall pub on the outskirts of town to grab some pints and food. It’s one that’s dotted exclusively with locals who know the area well enough to find it. The chatter in here is low and the lights are a dim orange. It gives me some space to think and breathe as I prepare myself.

The butterflies brewing in my stomach aren’t from nerves but excited anticipation.

“You’ve been smiling at my beer for a couple of minutes.” Jackson nods. “You good?”

I look up and lock eyes with him.

“I want to go home.”

Jackson pauses mid-sip, putting his pint down. “All right, I’ll go get the bill. Are you fi—”

“I don’t mean Carlingford.”

He tilts his head.

“I mean home .”

“To Cali?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” He smiles but then schools it. “You’re sure? You’re not just saying that? Because I have no issue staying longer if you’re not ready. I like Ireland, lassie.”

I snort at the awful Irish accent he tacks on at the end. He really is too sweet to me.

“Really. I’m ready. I miss our friends. I miss free two-day delivery. I miss my nail technician. And, Gods, I miss having our own space where we can, ya know, without worrying about my parents.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You make a fair point. It’s hard to fuck you right when you scream so loud.”

I duck my head, glancing around at the nearby tables as I hiss, “Really?”

He reaches out and takes my hand; it’s a little cold from the beer. “If you’re ready, then, okay, let’s do it.”

I smile. “Let’s go home, Jackson.”