Page 36 of Fake Game

“Hey,” I counter. “I’m a nice person. People love me. I’m sunshine and rainbows and fucking unicorns.”

“You swear in every third sentence,” Jackson deadpans.

“I’m Irish, sue me.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t want a fake girlfriend.”

“Well, I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend—even if you beg. Who would want to be tied to your grumpy arse?”

Jackson gives me a once over, the slightest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Sure.”

My eyes narrow. “Try me.”

He doesn’t deign to give me a response, just goes back to ignoring me and playing with Aleks. Frustration bubbles under my skin, uncontained energy coursing through me.

A light tap on my hand pulls me from the death glare I’m trying to laser into Jackson’s brain.

“You good?”Stevie mouths to me. Her eyes dip to where my nails are digging into my biceps.

I release my grip, little red crescents marring my pale skin. With a deep breath, I plaster a smile on my face and roll my eyes. “Yeah. Boys,”I mouth back.

She gives a light chuckle before holding her wine glass out to me. I carefully pluck it from her grip and take a healthy gulp, pushing my emotions to the side.

But now that the idea is in my head, it starts swimming around, and some strange kernel in my chest lights up. Jackson’s hot. Dating him wouldn’t be a chore in the looks department. Plus, I might even feel comfortable enough to leave the apartment with someone like him by my side. He would be like my own personal bodyguard.

Except, the idea seems as appealing to him as broccoli to a toddler. It doesn’t matter how good I might be for him; he’s just going to push me to the side until someone forces his hand.

NINE

JACKSON

Istare down at the fairy strewn across my bed sheets. Her head hangs off the side, pink hair dangling to the floor as she watches me upside down.

It’s been three days, and I’m seriously starting to question my decision to bring her here.

She is everywhere, even when she isn’t. Pieces of her linger around the apartment, and my bedroom is starting to take on her brown sugar scent.

I should’ve just let her stay in Parker’s room.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

But, like every other time I’ve entertained that thought, my chest swirls with a sourness.

Not to mention, every time I look at her, I remember her proposal the other night.

“I’ll date you.”

As if that would work. My family would combust at the idea. There is no way they would ever believe it. My auntie already scrutinizes everything I do, the last thing I need is to give her more ammunition for why I’m ruining our family’s reputation.

And yet, I can’t stop thinking about it.

What a fucking nightmare I’ve created for myself.

“What do you want, Deer?”

“Nothing.”

I look down at her, and for the twelfth time, I have to avert my gaze from her tits that are trying to escape the confines of her tight top. Gravity isn’t doing me any favors.

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