Page 135 of Fake Game

“Deer?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you don’t come, I’ll have to drag Aleksander. And I’d much prefer you because you’re prettier than him, more fun, and actually care about the movies.”

“But—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The response is automatic, and I know in that moment that I’m going to go. Because I do trust him. Even when it seems like the world is aiming a thousand arrows at me, I know Jackson will step in front of me with his shield to prevent it from hurting me.

“Then let me take you to the movies. It’ll be safe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

DEER

Iregret this.

Jackson parks the car, but I don’t make a move to get out or unbuckle my seat belt. I just stare straight ahead at the movie theater. The tinted glass makes it impossible to see inside.

There could be dozens of people inside. They could recognize me. Take pictures. Post them online so anyone can come find me. Sotheycan find me.

I really regret this.

“Deer?” Jackson’s voice breaks through the hum as he opens my door and leans over me, unbuckling my seat belt and grabbing my purse. My body stays stock still—I just look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Come on.” He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. My traitorous body seems to not be communicating with my brain because it follows him out of the car.

“Jackson,” I whisper, grabbing his bicep with my other arm. I’m clutching onto him like a small sugar glider that’s staring wide-eyed at its surroundings and shaking from the potential predatory threats. “What if people recognize me?”

“They won’t.”

I scoff. “You can’t guarantee that.”

“Trust me, they won’t.”

As we walk up the stairs, the tinted doors swing forward, a man in a suit holding it open for us. My steps falter as I take his large frame in, but my nerves steady as I realize I’ve seen him before. He’s one of the security members from the expo.

I give him a small nod as we walk inside, my nails gripping Jackson’s arm even harder as I wait to see just how busy it is.

“In and out,” I mutter to myself, taking controlled breaths through my nose like the therapist instructed me. The smell of buttery popcorn and salty pretzels wafts around me and I look up.

It’s…empty.

I mindlessly follow Jackson as my eyes dart around the theater foyer. There are two employees, one at the ticket office and one by the concession area. I note three more people in suits stationed throughout, whom I’m assuming are extra bodyguards.

I know it’s a Tuesday afternoon, but I still thought more people would be here. Maybe all the other movies just started…

“What do you want to snack on?”

“Hmm?” I blink up, noticing he’s led me right to the concession counter. “Oh.”

Candy, popcorn, pretzels, pizza, chips, slushies, ice cream, curly fries, mozzarella sticks, chicken tenders…my Gods, there are a lot of options. When did movie theaters get so complex? It is like a drive-through in here.

“A pack of fruit gummy worms and a large salty popcorn.”

---