The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

He grins, his eyes lighting up. “You’ll do it?”

“Yes,” I say on a sigh, “but you better not make me regret this.”

“Never,” he vows.

I stand up. “I better go, boyfriend.”

He grins. “See you later, girlfriend.”

I haven’t seen Grace all weekend, and I’m sweating bullets that she’s changed her mind. I stupidly didn’t even get her fucking phone number.

Good one, Bennett.

So now, I stand outside her dorm at the ass crack of dawn with coffee and cupcakes—because that’s what a good boyfriend would do, right?

I’ve only ever had one serious girlfriend, and that was in high school. It lasted two years and ended badly—bad enough that it left a sour taste in my mouth when it came to relationships.

I see Grace through the glass door, but she hasn’t spotted me yet. Elle has, though, and her mouth pops open. She smacks Grace in the arm and points. Grace turns and looks, her perfectly-curled hair swishing against her shoulders. She looks surprised but quickly schools her features and says something to Elle before they head out the door.

“Hey.” I step up onto the stairs and hold out the coffee and cupcakes—I purposely got enough for Elle too. It would’ve been rude to leave her out. “I got you this,” I add unnecessarily and immediately want to smack myself in the forehead.

Brilliant, Bennett. You really know how to keep it cool under pressure on the ice, but when it comes to a girl, you completely lose your marbles.

“Thanks.” She takes a coffee.

“For you, too.” I indicate the other coffee for Elle.

“Thank you,” she takes it and I hold onto the holder, letting my hand fall to my side.

“There are cupcakes too.” I indicate the other box I hold.

Grace takes it. “Thank you. What’s the occasion?”

“A guy can’t surprise his girlfriend?” I grin crookedly, tilting my head to the side. I said it purposely, to see if she’d freak out.

“I guess it’s okay,” she reasons, shrugging. A smile tugs on her lips.

“I can’t believe you just told me you guys were dating. How long has this been going on? Since the bar?”

“Yes,” I say at the same time Grace says, “No.”

She glares at me.

“Officially it just happened,” I amend. “But there’s always been something between us, right, Grace?”

“Right?” she says, lifting the coffee cup to her lips.

Elle looks between as if she’s not quite buying our story. I don’t blame her: Grace and I are terrible actors.

“Well,” Elle begins. “I better head to class before I’m late. Professor Bend is a bitch with a capital B.” She rolls her eyes.

“I’ll see you for lunch,” Grace calls after her.

When Elle disappears, I whisper to Grace, “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want people to think we’re actually dating.”

She takes a sip of her coffee and I know she’s thinking through what she wants to say. Her eyes flick away and back to me. “Maybe you should pick someone else.”

“I don’t want to pick someone else,” I argue as she starts toward her class. I fall into step beside her. “Besides, we’ve already been photographed together.”