Page 38 of Fake Game

She tosses the DVD on the couch, not stopping her stride as she starts opening cabinets in the kitchen. I lean my hip againstthe island as I watch her stretch on her tiptoes to grab a packet of microwavable popcorn, her T-shirt riding up to show a sliver of smooth skin. My fingers twitch to wrap around her waist.

Something is definitely wrong with me.

“Do you want a drink?”

I drag my gaze back up to her face. “Sure.”

“Perfect, just wait. I make the best drinks.”

There’s an excitement pouring off her that I’ve rarely seen before. The bubbly sweetness of her personality doesn’t seem artificial but natural. It’s refreshing, cute.

A sparkle enters her eyes as she mixes random liquids together, the drink going from purple to pink with a squeeze of a lemon. She crouches to eye level as she begins to pour in the vodka. More vodka than I expect her to pour in.

Fantastic…

The smell of popcorn slowly starts to permeate the air as the pops get louder and louder. Deer frowns as she turns around and eyes a bowl that’s just out of reach. The tips of her long, pointy nails tap against the glass rim.

I push off the island and move in behind her, reaching to help her grab the bowl. But just as I position myself around her, she lifts a knee up on the counter and hoists herself up. Her ass presses right against my crotch, almost grinding on it. She gives a surprised yelp, and I hold back a groan. A warmth spreads throughout my body, and my hands close around the bowl as I take a massive step back.

“Here.” I hold the bowl out to her, trying to ignore the last five seconds of my life. Trying to ignore the feel of her against me.

She blinks down at me, those thick lashes fanning up and down.

“Thanks.” She slips off the counter and takes the bowl from me, filling it up with the fresh popcorn. “Do you mind grabbing the drinks?”

“Sure.”

“Ya know, if I hadn’t watched some of your streams, I’d think you didn’t know how to speak in complete sentences.” She gives me the side-eye as she pushes past me to the couch, and I’m stuck trailing behind her again.

“You watch my streams?” I taunt, but it rolls right over her.

“Duh.” She shrugs, opening up the DVD and slotting it into the PlayStation.

I fall back onto the couch and watch as she goes around turning off all the lights before plopping down next to me, crossing her legs. She leaves a healthy foot between our bodies, and I can’t tell whether I should take offense to that.

The movie starts up and, while it is one of my favorites, I’ve seen it enough times that it’s easy for my mind to constantly stray to the woman next to me. I keep watching for shifts in her expression so I can gauge if she hates it or not.

I shouldn’t care, and yet there is a part of me that is secretly hoping she loves it.

By the time we are halfway through, she’s managed to inch her way closer and closer across the cushion. I don’t think she’s noticed. Her drink sits empty on the coffee table, and there are only sad, unpopped kernels remaining in the bowl she keeps clutched between her hands.

The vodka has started to work its way through my system even though I’ve only drunk half of what she poured. The girl has a heavy hand. My body relaxes into the sofa, and I let my legs splay open a little farther, so my knee rests only inches from her own.

I watch her jaw drop as the main plot twist is revealed, and her hand shoots out to grasp my thigh.

“No,” she whispers. “No!” She turns to me all starry-eyed, a disbelieving smile creeping along her face. Her joy is infectious, and I have to stop myself from smiling back. “I totally did notsee that coming.” The flash of the TV illuminates her skin, and I can’t help but admit she really is a pretty thing.

Her hand doesn’t leave my thigh as she turns back to the TV, instead, her grip loosens so it’s just lazily caressing. Every once in a while, her hand will twitch, those sharp nails dragging slightly. And I grit my teeth during a particular scene where her thumb presses just a little too high.

And yet, I say nothing. For some godforsaken reason, I say nothing.

Instead, I spend the last twenty minutes of the movie telling my dick to calm down because seriously, who the fuck gets hard while watching a horror movie.

As the final scene comes to a close, she turns to me, her face only a few inches from my own. “That ending was a total mindfuck,” she whispers. “Best movie I’ve seen in forever. Ten out of ten. You said this was one of your faves, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what’s another?” She leans in closer like she’s looking for me to spill a secret. All personal space has been eradicated.

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