Page 49 of Hard to Fake

Miles: Need a ride to laser tag?

I shouldn’t want to be alone in a car with Miles when a woman is posting cute pics of them on social.

My fingers hover over the keyboard.

Brooke: I'm going with Jay. I’ll see you there.

* * *

When Jay and I arrive at the laser tag arena, Miles is waiting by his car in a white T-shirt and faded jeans, and he could be the boy next door.

If the boy next door had a wicked smile, A+ genes and a devout workout habit.

“Shit, I have to take this,” Jay says, motioning to his ringing phone.

I shut the car door and start toward the building without him.

"Hey Princess,” Miles says as I approach.

"Hi." I’m distracted enough I don’t correct the nickname.

I stop a few feet away, trying to reestablish boundaries.

“How was your week?” His gaze searches mine.

“Good. Fine. Perfect.” I force a smile I don’t feel. “We should suit up.”

We head into the arena and meet the others.

When I get inside, they’re deciding house rules.

“Fouls are same as basketball,” Rookie says.

“No way. The ref last night was way too tight with his damn whistle. This is full contact. Retribution,” says Atlas.

“Says the man with an injury who can’t play,” Jay notes.

Atlas frowns. “It’s my shoulder. I can run fine.”

“No one touch Atlas. We need him back yesterday.” This is from Clay.

“You get the ref isn’t here, right? You can’t take him out.” Rookie talks over Clay to Atlas.

"You realize we're not ten years old?" I taunt as I suit up.

“Maybe your girl should get a head start since she’s so tiny,” Jay says to Clay, glancing at Nova.

“My wife might be small but she’s fast,” Clay grunts.

Nova smiles sweetly and shoulders her rifle.

I feel Miles’s eyes on me as we get ready, but as we strap on our gear for the game, anticipation builds in me.

I'm ready to kick some ass.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Jay suggests. “Loser buys dinner.”

He names an expensive restaurant nearby.

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