Page 65 of Fake Game

“Thanks.”

SIXTEEN

JACKSON

“Guess who’s back, losers.”

I ignore the noise, centering my concentration as I speed up my car using a rainbow pad. Stevie throws a green turtle shell from her car, but it’s easy to dodge. I shoot out a banana peel, but she narrowly avoids it. I’d never admit it, but she’s getting a little too good at this game.

“Nice try, but I’m winning this round,” she croons.

“We’ll see.”

I still have a trick up my sleeve.

“Hello? Any of you wankers listening to me?”

“No. Stop distracting me,” Aleks clips.

My eyes dip down to the bottom right quadrant of the TV screen to see Aleks riding in seventh place. The corner of my mouth ticks up in satisfaction. Since I met him in high school, he’s always crushed me in practically every game we play. It doesn’t matter how many more hours of work I put in; he is just a natural at everything—except racing games. They are his Achilles’ heel, and I exploit that weakness like no other.

“Come on, come on,” Stevie whispers under her breath.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” I swerve my car right, angling it into the shortcut hallway. I manage to hit the ramp with enough speed tocatapult across the gulf. My car spits back onto the main track, ahead of Stevie.

“Dammit, Jackson.”

I grin. Sweet, sweet victory, just seconds away.

I demolished this game.

There’s a light chuckle from my left.

My car goes spinning to the side, a giant bullet knocking me completely off track.

“What the fuck?” Stevie and I yell.

It takes me too long to get myself situated again, and by the time I cross the finish line, a third-place banner unfurls across my square of the screen. The quadrant below me is lit up with a first-place trophy.

I turn to glare at the culprit.

“Ooooh, sorry. Did that mess up your winning streak?”

Deer smiles at me, her tone anything but apologetic as her blue eyes gleam with success. My gaze dips to the low-cut top she is wearing, and my annoyance wavers.

“Nice.” Aleks leans across me, brandishing his knuckles. Deer knocks them back with her own, the two conspirators gloating.

“Whatever, I still won the most rounds.”

“Barely,” Stevie huffs. “If I’d won this, we would’ve been tied.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, so sucks to suck.”

“God, you’re such a sore loser.”

“I’m kicking you all out of my apartment if you don’t start paying attention to me.” Parker plants himself in front of the TV.

Deer laughs, uncurling herself from the couch and padding over to squeeze him in a hug. “Welcome back.”

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