Page 77 of Fake Game

She’s interesting.

Well, that isn’t a bad thing.

With my grandmother’s approval, everyone starts moving again, packing into their cars so we can make our drive to the restaurant. It is like a religious practice; whenever we have something to celebrate, we go to this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that’s been running for the last forty years—basically sincepo poimmigrated here from China with mygung gung.

“Should I get in your car?” Deer keeps her voice hushed as she walks alongside me.

“Where did you park?”

“Like over there-ish. Doesn’t matter though, I’m getting in anyway. Looks more couple-y.”

She waves me off, the charms on her nails glinting in the sun, and makes her way to the passenger side. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I realize my mistake too late.

Fuck. I should’ve opened the door for her.

And because I can’t seem to catch a God damn break today, the back door opens, and I watch in the rearview mirror as my sister climbs into the back of my Jeep.

“Angela, what are you doing?”

“Mom said I could ride with you.” She closes the door with more force than necessary.

Great. How am I supposed to figure out what the hell is going on with Deer when I have Angela in the car? We are about to be surrounded by ten of my family members, and she has absolutely zero prep as my supposed girlfriend.

“So, this is your girlfriend?” Angela leans forward over the center console and peers at Deer without any remorse. “Is he blackmailing you or something?”

Without missing a beat, Deer laughs. “She’s funny. Clearly the humor in the family skipped a sibling.”

Angela pauses, reassessing her, but I see the way the compliment runs over her and soaks into her skin. She doesn’t smile, exactly, there’s just a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth as she says “thanks” before slumping back in her seat.

Angela doesn’t seem to notice the tension radiating from me or the way I keep sneaking glances at Deer, who seems to be cool as a fucking cucumber while she scrolls through her social media.

“So, how long have you been sucking face with my brother?”

I almost swerve off the road.

TWENTY

JACKSON

“So, how long have you been dating?”

“Just a few weeks.”

It’s the same response Deer gave my sister earlier.

Every question that’s been thrown at us, she answers before I’m even able to take a breath. Deer is weaving a story, like a spider creating a delicate web in the corner of a dark room. No one knows that she is carefully trapping them in it with every detail she spins.

It helps that the narrative she’s crafted runs parallel to our real life—just with a few embellishments.

“I didn’t know he was even interested in anyone.” Mom hasn’t taken her eyes off Deer once since we’ve sat down. She seems to be analyzing her within an inch of her life.

Then again, everyone is. Deer sits at the round table like a bright pink gumball.

I reach forward and drink what is probably my fifth cup of jasmine tea in the last half hour. It’s the only thing I can do to keep myself busy other than stuff my face with food because I don’t want to say the wrong thing and screw this up when it seems to actually be working.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been crushing on him for years and had no idea either. Totally took my chance confessing to him.” She places a hand on my forearm.

“You confessed first?”

---