Page 66 of Fake Game

The fuck?

She’s never greeted me with a hug before.

Why do my friends get special treatment?

“Happy?” She releases him and cocks her head to the side.

“I guess,” he grumbles, his lower lip pouting slightly.

“Good.” She pats him on the shoulder. “Now, where’s Syd?”

“Jet lag. She went straight to her place.” Parker flops down on the couch, taking Deer’s vacant spot next to me. He reaches forward and takes a sip from one of the flutes on the coffee table. “Ugh, what happened to this champagne?” He looks at the glass like it has gravely offended him. “It tastes like ass.”

“And you’d know what that tastes like,” Aleks tosses, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Fuck off.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s not champagne.” Deer plucks the flute from his hand and settles herself next to him on the couch. “It’s sparkling water, gin, lemon juice, and some sugar.”

Parker scrunches his nose. “That’s basically a poor person’s version of a French 75.”

“Sue me for being lazy.” She rolls her eyes, taking a large sip of the concoction.

My jaw works back and forth, annoyance brewing as Parker and Deer laugh.

“So, are you and Jackson bunking together?” Stevie tosses her legs over Aleks’ lap as she looks at us.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been sleeping in his room, haven’t you?”

Fuck.

I turn to Parker, but he just has his pointer finger pressed on the tip of his nose, “You gotta take the couch, mate.”

“What? No. What are you even doing back early? You were due back Tuesday.”

“Oh, so you finally realized?”

“Parker,” I growl.

“Syd made us come back early because I have a last-minute photoshoot with Health Potionz. You’re looking at the new face of HP energy drinks.” He leans back, throwing his arms overthe cushions. “Besides, it’s my room. In fact, it’s my apartment complex. I don’t need your permission to be here.”

“Go crash with your girlfriend.”

“No.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Stevie jumps in.

“Or did she just get sick of looking at your ugly face?” Aleks laughs.

“Bloody hell. I forgot how awful you lot are,” he huffs. “No, she just wanted a night back at her own place.”

“I can take the couch.” Deer’s soft voice slips through the barrage of noise.

“You’re not taking the couch,” I cut back.

“But—”

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