The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

“What the hell? Go away.” I try to shove Elle off my bed, but her skinny ass isn’t going anywhere.

“Wake up,” she demands. “You’re famous.”

That gets me to sit straight up in bed. Elle bounces by my feet, absolutely giddy.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Look.” She shoves her phone in my face. “This is everywhere.”

I snatch the cellphone from her hand and look at the screen. An image of the kiss Bennett and I shared at the hockey game is plastered across the screen along with an article about us. I scroll down. It talks about how we’ve been dating for a month now—nearly two months actually, but whatever—and that I am a freshman. They even list my hometown and talk about the fact that I’m a Wentworth and therefore worth billions.

A fact I’ve kept a secret about myself. Not even Bennett knows. I mean, it’s not a huge secret but since we keep to ourselves and don’t really infiltrate with the high society life outside of our home state, it’s not common knowledge.

“You have to be kidding me,” I mutter.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re rich. I mean, I kinda guessed it based on the way you dress, but billions? I had no idea.”

I shrug. “It’s not important. It’s old family money. My dad owns a mechanic shop now. He didn’t want any part in the business. My uncle Trent has more to do with the business than him, but still not much. It’s just not a big deal.”

Elle raises a brow like she begs to differ. “But you’re like … royalty or something.”

I snort. “Hardly. We live in a normal house, in a normal neighborhood. We’re a normal family. I promise you.”

She takes her phone from me and hops back to her side of the room. “This doesn’t change anything,” she says softly. “Just so you know, you’re still Grace to me and I still think you’re way too prissy.”

I snort. “Thanks, Elle.”

I shove the covers off and decide to get ready for the day. It’s Saturday but I still have a helluva lot of homework to do.

I dress comfortably in a pair of jeans and a sweater and apply my makeup. I don’t feel like messing with my hair, so I gather the long dark strands into a ponytail.

When I’m ready, I grab my backpack and a stack of books. “I’m going to study at the coffee shop,” I tell Elle.

“Cool.” She nods, looking at her phone. “I’m going to meet Ryland for breakfast.”

“Have fun,” I tell her with a small wave, but she’s too busy looking at her phone to see.

Outside, the air is nippy, and I curse myself for not grabbing a coat. I still haven’t adjusted to the cooler temperatures here. Back home, it would be ten degrees warmer than this.

The campus is beautiful, though, with its cobblestone paths and old gothic-style buildings. I had a hard time picking a college, especially with my parents begging me to stay close to home, but I know I picked the right one. This is where I’m supposed to be.

I step into the coffee shop and inhale the smell. To me, a coffee shop smells like home and comfort. I love it.

I step into line and place my order for a coffee and sandwich and then snag a seat in the back where it’s quieter. I scatter my books around the table and place my order card where someone will see it.

Before I can sit down, my phone rings shrilly in purse.

I pull it out and see MOM flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer in a bright tone. I try to call her at least once a day in the evenings, but I forgot to yesterday after the hockey game. I came back to the dorm and crashed. Hockey games are exhausting even when you’re not the one playing. “I’m sorry I forgot to call you.”

“That’s not why I’m calling, Grace.”

I know instantly that I’m in trouble. Parents just have that tone they get and you know it’s game over. “What did I do?” I cut to the chase.

“Apparently, you have a boyfriend and didn’t tell us.”

Shit. I completely forgot to tell them about Bennett. I mean, it’s kind of hard to tell your parents you’re fake dating someone you told them you weren’t dating—sounds like total bullshit, right?