Page 51 of Forbidden Game

Parker Covington doesn’t like me.

Sure, he’d kissed me, but that…I don’t know what that was. Maybe he just got caught up in the moment, in the proximity. It was late, and we were sharing the same bed. It was dark.

I mean, come on. This is Parker. He doesn’t take anything seriously. There is no way he thinks of our kiss as more than something in the heat of the moment.

I kissed him and I don’t like him.

I mean, I like him. But I do not like like him.

I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

“I think you’re all reading into it waaaay too much.” I wave them off, reaching for the TV controller and bumping up the volume. “It’s Parker. No one knows why he does anything he does.”

“Whatever you say.” Stevie smirks at me, and I fight to not let my skin flush.

I’ll have to play this carefully for the next few weeks. Stevie is more observant than people give her credit for. I mean, she figured out The System’s real identities in just a few weeks when people had been trying to figure it out for years. I have no doubt she might be able to sniff out whatever is going on with Parker and me. I need to bury our tension under ten layers of dirt and then build a house over it.

My phone pings with a very particular alert tone across the room, and Lee levels me with a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I peel myself off the couch, thankful for the distraction. “You know I have it set so I only get specific notifications during Crime Night.”

Which is not a good sign.

“I know. Grab the blondies while you’re up.”

I roll my eyes.

“Pleeeease,” she calls out.

“All right, all right.”

She blows me a kiss before snuggling into Deer and turning her attention back to the TV, which is showing an opulent mansion with hundreds of police cars outside it. Stevie gives me a look over her wine glass before also returning to the murder-stalking at hand. Honestly, I’ll do anything to keep them from fixating back on Parker.

I pluck the tray of fresh-baked blondies from on top of the stove and grab more of the spiked-boba concoction from the fridge. Maybe if I ply them with enough sugar and alcohol, they’ll forget the Parker thing entirely.

I balance the tray on my forearm as I pick up my phone and then almost drop it when I see the name on my screen.

Justin Rivera.

I plop the tray on the table and fill up Deer’s cup with the drink before flopping into the corner of the couch, angling away from the girls before unlocking my phone.

JUSTIN ?? RIVERA: Hello

ME: Yes.

The phone rings and his caller ID pops up. I hit decline. Any call with Justin is on the record, and if he’s messaging me this late at night, it won’t be anything good.

JUSTIN ?? RIVERA: Really, Lake?

JUSTIN ?? RIVERA: I have a gift for you.

ME: Return it. I don’t want it.

JUSTIN ?? RIVERA: Are you sure?

ME: No gift from you is free.

JUSTIN ?? RIVERA: And here I thought you would be interested in some…interesting…photos I have.

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