Page 46 of Faking with Three

She raises an eyebrow, popping a chip into her mouth. “The channel? Or something else?”

My jaw tightens. She’s too perceptive for her own good. “The channel,” I insist, though my voice sounds less convincing than I’d like. “Things have been crazy since the restaurant fiasco. The fans are eating it up, but we’ve got to be careful. It’s a lot of pressure to keep the momentum going.”

She nods, crunching on another chip. “Yeah, it’s been a wild ride. But it’s working, right? The subs, the views—it’s all going up.”

“Exactly,” I say, leaning forward. “But it’s not just about numbers. It’s about—” I stop, realizing I’m circling the real issue. I take a breath. “It’s about us. The dates. The dynamic. People are shipping you and Jax. You and Marcus. Hell, they’ve even started shipping you with me.”

Her face freezes mid-chew, and she quickly swallows. “Seriously?”

I nod. “Seriously. It’s getting... complicated.”

She sets the bag down, her expression guarded. “Are you saying you want me to quit?”

“No!” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just—” I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated. “I don’t know. I don’t want things to get messy.”

Her lips twitch, and for a second, it looks like she might laugh. “Ethan, it’s already messy.”

She’s right. It is. And yet, I can’t bring myself to regret any of it. Not the channel. Not the chaos. And definitely not her.

“Yeah,” I admit, meeting her eyes. “It is.”

The air between us feels charged for a moment, like something unspoken is hanging there, just waiting to be said. But before I can figure out what that something is, she leans back, grabs the bag of chips, and changes the subject.

“So,” she says, grinning, “what’s the plan for our next episode?”

I exhale, both relieved and disappointed. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I need help figuring out our next episode.”

She glances up at me, her lips twitching with a mischievous smile. “You’re asking me for ideas? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I tease, though I’m genuinely curious. “I figure you’ve got a lot of pent-up brilliance waiting to blow my mind.”

Olivia laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, Mr. Sarcasm. What do you have in mind?”

“Something that doesn’t involve us getting kicked out of another restaurant, preferably.”

Olivia smirks, brushing crumbs off her hands. “You mean something low-key? Chill? Something that doesn’t make me want to throttle you mid-scene?”

“Exactly,” I deadpan. “You’re catching on.”

She laughs, and for a moment, it’s easy between us. Comfortable. But then her eyes light up with that spark—the one that usually means trouble. “What if we play a game?”

I squint at her. “A gaming challenge?” I repeat, leaning forward. “That’s your idea of a date?”

Olivia raises an eyebrow, unfazed by my skepticism. “Not just any game, Ethan. Death Crunch.My game.”

Of course, her game. I should’ve seen that coming.

“Look, I’m all for promoting your project, but are you sure a video game date is going to land with the audience?” I ask. “It’s not exactly candlelight and wine.”

“That’s the point,” she shoots back. “It’s unique. And it’ll show off the game. Besides…” She pauses, her green eyes gleaming. “You afraid I’ll beat you?”

I scoff, leaning back in mock offense. “Me? Afraid of you? Please.”

“Youshouldbe,” she says, her grin widening. “Death Crunch is a test of strategy, reflexes, and sheer guts. I’ll destroy you. We’ll play together—see who survives the longest. The fans will love it.”

I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow. “And by ‘fans,’ you mean you? Because this sounds suspiciously like a setup for you to embarrass me on camera.”

Olivia gasps, putting a hand to her chest like I’ve mortally offended her. “Ethan, I would never.”

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