Page 13 of Gamebreaker

The SHAU4 car pulled up. I climbed in, gave the driver a weak smile, and spent the entire ride home replaying the dinner in my head.

When I got home, I poured another glass of wine, collapsed on my couch, and stared at my phone.

A text from Laine lit up the screen.

Laine

For what it's worth, I think this will eventually blow over. But if you’re not careful, you two will end up sleeping together.

I stared at the message, my face heating up.

Harper

Have you lost your entire mind? Did you miss the part where we hate each other?

Laine

All that passion has to go somewhere. Trust me. I know these things.

Harper

You're insane. We just had a massive fight. She stormed out. I called her fake for being in the closet like the biggest asshole in the world. There is zero chance of anything happening between us. Besides, there’s no proof I’m even her type.

Laine

She has eyes, Harper. And she definitely noticed that dress.

I threw my phone across the couch, drained my wine, and told myself Laine was absolutely wrong.

But I couldn't stop thinking about the way Cam's eyes had tracked over me when I'd walked in. The way she'd looked at me across the dinner table. The way her voice had sounded when she'd said You don't know anything about my life.

She was right. I didn't know anything about her life.

I didn't know what it cost her to stay closeted. I didn't know what she was protecting, what she was afraid of losing. I didn't know anything except that she'd hurt me and I'd hurt her back, and now we were both angry and raw and probably never speaking to each other again.

"This is fine," I told my empty apartment. "Everything is fine. I'm fine. I'm definitely not thinking about her. I'm definitely not feeling guilty. I'm definitely not wondering if I was too harsh."

I was definitely lying.

And that was the worst part of all.

4

Please Stop Talking

Cam

The clock read 11:47 PM when I gave up on the pretense of sleep.

I'd been lying there for two hours, watching shadows move across my ceiling, replaying the dinner like game footage I couldn't turn off. Harper's voice kept cutting through every defense I had, finding the gaps in my armor with the calculated skill of someone who knew exactly where to aim.

You admit you're hiding who you really are.

I was dressed and out the door in five minutes. Sports bra, loose tee, compression shorts, shoes laced tight enough to hurt. No music. Just me and the pavement and the truth I was trying to outrun, even though we both knew I'd never been fast enough to escape myself.

The October air hit my face, cool and cutting, carrying the salty smell of the ocean from miles away. I started at an easy pace, letting my muscles warm and my breathing find its rhythm, that automatic calibration my body had learned over decades of conditioning. Left foot, right foot, the familiar pattern that usually brought clarity.

Not tonight.