Page 47 of Faking with Three

“Uh-huh.”

“Come on,” she presses, sitting up straighter. “It’s perfect. It’s interactive, it’s fun, and it’s free because I already own the game.”

“That’s... not the worst idea,” I admit begrudgingly. “But where would we even do it? We can’t exactly take a gaming console to a coffee shop.”

She shrugs. “Why not here?”

“Here?” I glance around my apartment, which is definitely not what I’d call camera-ready. There’s a stack of laundry on the chair, my desk is a mess of wires and notebooks, and the lighting is about as flattering as a DMV photo booth. “This isn’t exactly a ‘date night’ vibe, Chase.”

“Think of it as... intimate,” she says, her grin turning sly. “Low-key. Authentic.”

“Intimate,” I repeat the word slowly as if trying it out. “You mean cramped and poorly lit.”

“You’re such a buzzkill,” she groans, tossing a pillow at me. “You can fix the lighting. You’re the tech guy, remember?”

I catch the pillow and toss it back. “Fine. But if we do this, I’m running a test shoot first. I’m not having our audience think I live in a cave.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of victory in them. “Deal. I’ll grab my console.”

Before I can argue further, she’s up and out the door. I sigh and rub my temples, wondering how I let her talk me into these things.

Olivia returns a few minutes later, carrying a sleek portable gaming console under her arm. She breezes past me, completely at home in my apartment, and sets it up on my system like she’s done it a hundred times before.

“Alright,” she says, her fingers flying over the controller as she boots up the game. “Ready to get your butt kicked?”

I smirk and sit beside her on the couch, close enough to catch a faint hint of her perfume. “Please. I’ve been gaming since I was a kid. You’re about to witness greatness.”

She snorts. “We’ll see about that.”

The screen lights up, displaying theDeath Crunchlogo in bold, fiery letters. A dramatic soundtrack blares through the speakers, all pounding drums and ominous violins. The game itself is a mix of survival horror and strategy—a post-apocalyptic world where players must gather resources, fend off zombie-like creatures, and outsmart rival factions. It’s dark, gritty, and surprisingly fun.

“Alright,” Olivia says, handing me a controller. “Here’s how it works. You’ve got to find food, water, and shelter while avoiding the undead. Oh, and don’t trust anyone. They’ll stab you in the back for a can of beans.”

“Sounds cheerful,” I deadpan. “Perfect for a first date.”

She grins, her competitive streak already shining through. “Ready?”

“Bring it on, Chase.”

Within minutes, chaos erupts on the screen. My character is desperately scavenging for supplies while Olivia’s is already armed to the teeth and hunting down rival players.

“You’re supposed tosurvive,not pick fights with everyone,” I tell her as I watch her ambush another player and loot their backpack.

“Thisissurviving,” she counters, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Besides, it’s fun.”

“You’re terrifying,” I mutter, but I can’t help laughing. She’s clearly in her element, and it’s infectious.

As the game progresses, I manage to build a decent shelter, but Olivia’s relentless attacks keep me on edge. At one point, she sneaks into my base and sets it on fire, cackling like a maniac.

“You’re the worst,” I groan, trying to salvage what’s left of my supplies.

“Admit it,” she teases. “You’re having fun.”

I glance at her, and I forget about the game for a moment. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright with excitement, and there’s a smile on her face that makes my chest feel weirdly tight.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice softer than I intended. “I guess I am.”

Her gaze flicks to me briefly, and something passes between us—something unspoken but undeniable. But then she’s back to the game, and the moment is gone.

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