Page 98 of Fake Game

A lot of people attend these events, and it can be overwhelming to deal with them. Because of the way I look,people automatically think they can touch me. Maybe it’s the anime-pink hair, maybe it’s because I’m so small, but regardless of the reason, they feel like I am up for grabs, and I hate it. It’s nice being called cute, until they think being cute gives them a reason to touch you.

I feel like I’m treated like a small and fluffy white dog on the street—people walk past and automatically think they can pat you without asking permission because you seem like a toy.

The lack of consent from strangers makes me want to hide away from the world and stay in my own little protective bubble.

I hate letting that fear rule me.

I want to actually be able to walk around this time and see the different booths. I want to experience the con and not hole myself away from society. There is a fan artist from Canada attending I would die to buy an expo-exclusive art piece from for my new place, and this guy who makes these really cutePassion Schoolvarsity jackets that I have to snag for my collection.

The only issue is, as much as I want to do all that, I don’t know how to quiet the noise in my head. The thought of wandering through the crowd alone with all these threats around me is something I’m still struggling to push past. I don’t want to take an entire security detail with me because that will just draw more attention and really make me feel like everyone is watching me.

I groan, slumping backward on the hotel bed and watch the ceiling fan twirl around for a minute. My eyes track the monotonous spinning, using it to calm the nerves that are constricting my throat.

Knock, knock.

“Hey,” Lee’s voice calls out. “Want to help me do my makeup?”

I flop right back up and slide off the mattress, moving to crack open the door. Lee grins at me, bare faced. I brace my forearm against the frame, and give her a look.

“You know we have to be downstairs in twenty.”

“And?”

“And what if I said no?”

She rolls her eyes. “As if.”

“I could’ve still been getting ready.”

Lee nudges the door open and slips past me. “Yeah, yeah. When have you gone to an event and not had your hair and makeup done like hours in advance?”

I can’t argue with that. Getting ready before an event is how I calm myself down and allow my public mask to slip into place—it’s an entire therapeutic ordeal.

“You have to tie me into my corset as payment,” I call after her, following her path to the bathroom.

“Deal.”

I pat my hand on the counter, and she hops up, dangling her legs as I sift through my makeup bags.

I take a quick look at her outfit: low-rise black cargo pants, a cropped fishnet top with a white bandeau underneath, and a pair of Swarovski-covered platform sneakers—in other words, her usual color palette of black and white and nothing in between.

I, on the other hand, am cosplaying as my own farmer fromCherry Farmfor the first day, which isn’t that different of an outfit to what I usually wear to cons. It’s a custom pink corset dress; the bodice part is hand stitched with strawberry vines, and the ruffle skirt hits just an inch or two below my ass—which I make up for with sheer white thigh highs and a pair of special-order strawberry-bejeweled heels.

Lee pulls up some music on her phone, and I hum along as I begin painting her face.

“I’m glad they put our meet and greet lines next to each other.”

“As if you’d let it be any other way,” I snort.

“Well, duh.”

She doesn’t say it, but I know it’s so her security team can keep an eye on both of us at the same time instead of having to split their efforts.

“I forget, are you doing the showcase tomorrow?” I grab one of my thinner brushes to contour her aegyo sal before digging around for the right liquid glitter shadow.

“Nah, just the guys are doing that. I do have to be at theGods Leaguebooth for a signing, though. You?”

“Nah, they have me adjudicating the cosplay competition tomorrow.”

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