Page 87 of Fake Game

“Can’t. Have to make sure you’re safe.”

And that’s when I see it again, the anxious panic bubbling beneath the surface, the stuff she is trying to keep hidden but is struggling to contain as it grows.

Her resolve wavers just enough to afford me the chance to slip through her reinforced walls, and I use that split second to usher her inside her apartment, following closely behind.

But as soon as she crosses the threshold, every string that has been keeping her upright snaps. The familiarity and safety of her apartment strips away her hard shell, and I watch as her steps start to drag as she trudges into her bedroom, failing to slam it closed.

I close the door behind me and head to her fridge, pulling out her water filter and pouring us each a glass.

When half an hour passes, I begin to wonder if she’s actually going to come back out or just leave me here…I wouldn’t put it past her.

I raise my knuckles to her bedroom door and give it a short rap.

“What.”

“I brought you water.”

There’s a beat of silence before the door cracks open. I hold the glass out to her, and she takes it between her hands, cradling it to her chest as she peers up at me.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because I didn’t want you to be alone.”

She lets out a sigh and opens the door fully before turning to head into her bathroom. I take a seat on the footboard bench, watching her.

“You feeling better?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Okay.”

She eyes me through the reflection in the mirror, her nails tapping rhythmically on the marble counter. “Do you have any other questions?”

“I do.”

“Are you going to ask them?”

“Would you answer them?”

She slumps forward onto her elbows, dropping her head so her pink hair creates a curtain around her face.

My body moves on its own, unable to watch as the cracks in her armor begin to bleed. I wrap my arms around her, lightly pulling her into my body.

“Have a shower. Take a breath. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I place a kiss on the top of her head—not giving it much thought—before letting go and shutting the door behind me. It only takes a few minutes before I hear the shower start up, and it helps calm the tapping of my foot on the carpet.

I have questions. Of course, I have questions.

Like who the fuck is Deirdre? Are her eyes blue or did I imagine them a different color? Does she feel safe in her new apartment? Has she had any more nightmares? What’s her favorite season? Did she actually enjoy watchingDevil Nun? Who are her parents? Does she have any siblings? What’s her favorite Pokémon (I think it’s Togepi)?

I don’t know my fake girlfriend, and it’s driving me up the wall because for the first time in years, I find myself actually wanting to get to know someone. Deer has found a way to get under my skin, and now I’m determined to do the same. I want her to think about me just as much as I think about her. I can’tbe the only person in this relationship who feels like their entire world is slowly tilting.

The bathroom door opens and a cloud of steam wafts out. Deer hugs her fluffy pink robe close to her body as she makes a beeline for her walk-in closet. She finally emerges in an over-sized anime T-shirt and micro shorts.

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