Fake Skating(64)

“Well then, I’m glad I showed up just in time,” he said.

“Yeah, why are you here?”

“Richie’s brother kicked us out.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Do you want to play?” He gestured toward the dartboards.

“I’m in,” Richie said, suddenly beside us.

“Me too,” said Cassie, popping up next to him.

“Yeah, same,” Kyle said, and then it was set.

Apparently we were all going to play darts.

I took off my jacket and put it on the back of a chair, feeling slightly unsettled by how social this suddenly felt. I’d purposely left with my mom to avoid this very scenario, for God’s sake.

But once we started playing, it was surprisingly fun.

Ridiculously fun.

Alec’s friends seemed to be addicted to gambling, because they couldn’t play a single game without wagering something. At first it was a couple of bucks, plus they kept buying tickets for a meat raffle (a bizarre fundraiser that’s apparently common in Minnesota in which people try to win a package of meat) when the board came around, but then they all agreed that they didn’t have any more money to throw away.

So they started betting absurd things.

Loser of the next game has to take a sip out of someone’s drink without them noticing.

Loser of the next game has to do a cartwheel.

Loser of the next game has to freestyle dance for two minutes without stopping.

Alec lost that one just as my grandpa walked in.

And yes—he stared at Alec like he was a moron.

I couldn’t stop cackling as Alec continued dancing, his cheeks red, and my grandpa continued scowling at him.

“I officially request that someone kill me,” he said when he walked back over to the table where I was sitting with his friends, “because my soul has already left my body.”

“I cannot believe you just danced for Mick Fucking Boche,” Richie said.

“Yeah, I definitely want him to forget he ever saw that,” Alec said, shaking his head.

My phone lit up from where it was sitting in the center of the table, and every single person in our group looked at it as the words BEN WORTHINGTON showed up on the screen.

“You’re getting a text from Worthington?” Vinny said, looking at me like I’d just gotten a text from Ted Bundy.

“What the hell is that about?” Kyle said, looking at Alec.

“No—he’s my next-door neighbor,” I said defensively. “Sometimes. I mean, he lives with his mom most of the time—”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s texting you,” Vinny said.

“It really doesn’t,” Alec said, looking… so serious all of a sudden.

“Wait—how do you guys even know him?” I asked Vinny. “He goes to school at—”

“St. John’s. Yeah, he’s a fucking Cadet, we know,” Richie said.

“Everyone hates Ben,” Cassie said, as if that explained everything.

“Feel free to read the message,” Alec said to me, his face very unreadable (but definitely not happy). “Go ahead.”

The entire group was watching me like they suspected me of… something. “You guys, my mom made me put his number in my contacts, but I don’t ever text with Benji—”

“You should read it,” Cassie said, “so it doesn’t drive these guys nuts. They reallyhate Ben. We all do, after what he did.”

“What’d he do?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Alec said. “It doesn’t matter.”

I could tell it absolutely did matter, but I could also tell no one was going to share because Alec had told them not to. I grabbed my phone and held it out to Cassie. “You can read it. I honestly barely know the guy.”

She gave me a look that said good movebefore taking my phone and reading his text aloud. “?‘FYI big party in Mendota Heights tonight. I’ll drop the address if you and your friends are looking for something to do.’?”

“Gross,” Kyle said.

“Can I respond?” Richie asked with a grin. “Pretty please?”

“I’m on it,” Cassie said, reading out loud as she texted: “?‘No thanks, too busy celebrating with our hockey boys.’ And… send.”

And that was it. The group went back to their silly games instead of looking at me like I was colluding with Satan.

“Okay, all or nothing,” Cassie said. “Loser of this last one is at the mercy of the winner of this game.”

Everyone let out a collective “oooh,” as if this was a verybig deal.

All I knew was that I did notwant to be the loser.

And I wasn’t.

But my fake boyfriend was not so lucky.

He was the loser, and Richie the Obnoxious was the winner.

“Zeus, Zeus, Zeus,” Richie said, grinning as he looked at Alec.

I giggled.

Which made Richie look at me.

His mischievous grin kicked up a little higher as he looked back and forth between the two of us, and a niggling of unease settled into the pit of my stomach.

“I dare you to kiss her for thirty seconds,” he said to Alec, pointing at me. “Right here, right now.”

“What?” I said, or kind of squealed, actually.