Page 117 of Fake Game

“You okay?” A strong, calloused hand grips mine, and Jackson pulls me close to his body.

His touch centers me, grounding me back in the present. And when I look up into his gaze, it helps turn some of that noise to a quiet hum.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

He squeezes my hand, and though I can’t see it, I know he is smiling at me from the way his eyes soften and the skin around their edges crinkles slightly.

“Come on, I mapped out where the booths are so we won’t get lost in the crowds.” He starts walking at a slower pace for me, and my chest warms.

“Really?

“Yup.”

Jackson really must have studied the hell out of the convention center because it takes us less than ten minutes to find the artist’s booth. That and because of his massive frame, the crowd basically parts and makes space for him to stalk through.

I should bring him more places; he’s quite efficient. If I’d been left on my own, I think it would’ve taken me a solid thirty minutes to get here…if I even made it at all.

“My lady,” Jackson gestures dramatically at the booth, and I giggle at him before taking a look at the booth and letting out a small squeal.

It’s so adorable!

All the art prints and merch are set up on the wall behind the artist, and I’m at a loss for exactly which one I am going to purchase. She has this really cool nineties shoujo manga art style that just melts my heart.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” I give her a small wave.

“Just browsing?”

“Oh, no! I’m totally here to buy. I’m a huge fan.”

Her face pulls in mild shock before she looks away. “Oh, wow. That’s…thank you.” She clears her throat. “The large prints are twenty and the standard ones are fifteen. Here, you can flip through this book if you need a closer look.” She hands a binder to me. “I also have some stickers that are three for ten dollars, plus keychains for six.”

“Awesome.” I flip through the binder, trying to decide which I want. The prints are a little blurry in my vision, almost like mycontacts are giving out. I squint my eyes, focusing on them until I land on the ones I want to buy.

“Can I do these three? Large, please.”

“Sure, that’ll be sixty. I can take cash, card, or you can tap.”

“We’ll do cash.” Jackson holds out three twenty-dollar bills.

The girl takes the notes before I have a chance to stop him.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, softly nudging his arm with my shoulder.

He pulls his mask down and smirks at me. “Treating you.”

I roll my eyes, but when the girl hands me the plastic bag with the prints all neatly packaged together, he grabs that as well and a small part of me is a little giddy over the fact. I make more than enough money myself, and anything less than a hundred dollars doesn’t really blip on my radar—I know it’s the same for Jackson. Which is why it kind of matters even more; he’s not trying to be showy by flinging his money around or expecting me to front it because I have the capital, like other guys have done in the past.

He's doing it because he knows it’s something I actually care about.

I bite my lip to stop my smile, afraid he’ll be able to read my emotions even when they’re covered.

“Come on, the jacket place is on the other side of the Artist’s Den.”

He grabs my hand again, and it really just reinforces the fuzzy feeling going on inside that’s making me feel a little weak in the knees.

Or maybe…a lot.

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