Page 52 of Dice & Dekes

Knova doesn’t talk a lot on the way over; she mostly asks questions about my trip, the games, what we ate and did while we were away, that sort of thing. It still feels like there’s something in between us, something that’s wedged us apart in a way that’s hard to put my finger on.

We pass a few groups of people on the way. I catch a group of teenage girls raising their phones to scan our QR codes. When they do, the whole group breaks out in giggles. Odd.

A block later, we pass two guys around my age who do the same. One of the guys snorts and shows his phone to his friend.

“Brutal,” the other guy says.

“Hey, Knova?” I lower my voice and tip my head toward the guys. “Any idea what they’re talking about?”

“Nope,” she deadpans. “It’s a mystery.” When she smiles, she reminds me of a predator baring its teeth. It’s not a comforting sight.

“Right.” I reach for her hand, but she swerves away and stuffs them both into her pockets. It’s like reaching for a life preserver only to realize the rope’s been cut. I want to believe this is one of our games, that she’s teasing me, but the pit in my gut says otherwise.

Something is most definitely up. I should have scanned both QR codes before agreeing to this.

It’s probably just a prank, though. That’s not unusual for us. We like to play tricks on each other. It’s one way we express affection. Except, Knova hasn’t been all that affectionate lately.

Shit.

As soon as we reach the Puck Drop, I leave Knova with Vivian and Sofia while I pull Knight aside. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” I ask under my breath.

“Depends on the favor,” Knight says. “Making an agreement with you is like making a fae bargain. I’m not going to agree until I know the rules.”

“Very wise.” I turn around and gesture to my back where the QR code is. “Can you scan this and tell me what it says?”

He narrows his eyes. “Is this a trick? Why would you wear a shirt with a mystery QR code? Is this going to give my phone a virus or something?”

“No, your sister gave it to me. Can you just… please…” My desperation must be evident in my expression, because Knight takes pity on me and opens his phone screen. A moment later, he grimaces.

“What did you do?” he demands.

“I’ve been asking Knova that exact question all week. What does it say?”

Knight shows me his screen. Instead of the Venom logo, there’s an extremely unflattering picture of my face over the captionAsk Me About My Roster.

“Ouch,” I murmur. Not gonna lie: that one hurts. Worse than I want it to. I didn’t realize how much I’d been hoping—no, praying—that we were moving forward. Instead, she branded me with a punchline.

Knova’s made a lot of accusations over the years, some of which are well-earned, but this one doesn’t fit. I would never cheat on her. Shit, we’ve only been together a few weeks, and we’re not even together-together. We might be married, but I’m painfully aware that we’re not really a couple.

Knight tilts his head. “So… is Knova on your official roster now? Or is she just a really committed free agent?” His brow furrows.

I grab his arm. “We can’t talk about this here. Come with me.” I drag him off in the general direction of the bathrooms. We won’t get any privacy there, though, so I keep going until we stumble across a door near the staff area. I pull it open and peer inside. It’s a dry storage area. Perfect.

“In here,” I hiss, and step inside. Knight follows. I find a light switch near the mop station and flip on the single bulb, then press my back to the door so nobody can come in unannounced.

Knight holds up his phone to show me the offending image. “I have questions. Spill.”

I take a deep breath and slip against the door. “Knova and I accidentally got married after the season opener. We were drunk as hell, and Dante… pulled some Dante crap.” Let’s skip the part where Dante was planning to throw Knight and Sofia a surprise wedding. “And she wants to get divorced, but I don’t, because—”

Knight blinks. Once. Twice. Then blinks again, like he’s waiting for the punchline. “You what?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet. “Tell me you’re joking. Please tell me I’m not hearing that my best friend married my twin sister in secret and didn’t breathe a word of it for how many days?”

I shift on my feet. “Technically... since the party at the Mona Lisa where we all drank far too much tequila.”

Knight scrubs both hands over his face. “Oh, so weeks. Cool. Normal. Nothing says ‘trust’ like hiding a literal marriage.”

“We didn’t mean to get married. It just happened.”

“Like falling into a manhole.”

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