Page 66 of The Wrong Game

I half wanted to hide, half wanted to trade Belle spots and sit next to Gemma. I didn’t want to play this game. I just wanted to talk to her.

Maybe that’s exactly what I should do…

As if she could read my mind, Belle tugged on my arm, pulling me back into her plan.

“This is so fun,” she said, bouncing.

“You hate football.”

It was the first thing Gemma had said, and as soon as the words left her lips like they were poisonous darts, she cleared her throat, forcing a smile.

“I mean, it’s not really your thing, I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Well, maybe a zebra can change its stripes, after all,” Belle said in a sing-song voice. She leaned closer to me, looking up at me through her lashes. “Besides, these seats have a great view.”

I smiled, but before I could respond, there was a commotion in Gemma’s seat. Belle and I both looked over in time to watch ketchup and cheese drip from Gemma’s hand onto the concrete between her legs.

She held her squished hot dog out and away from her clothes, cursing under her breath.

“Here,” her date said, handing her a stack of napkins. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Gemma clipped. She shoved her ruined hot dog under her seat without taking a single bite, using the napkins Jordan had handed her to wipe the ketchup off her hands. “There was a bug.”

“Oh,” Jordan said, frowning. “Want me to go get you another hot dog?”

She hook her head. “No, no, it’s okay.”

Gemma forced a breath, tucking the messy napkins under her seat with the hot dog and sitting back up with a new resolve. She glanced at me with a tight smile before leaning into Jordan. “Guys, Jordan here is adoctor.”

The way she stared at me, I saw it — what Belle said would be there.

She was playing the game.

We’d triggered her, and I was about to find out if that was a good or bad thing.

Belle raised her brows. “Oh, is he now?” She turned her attention to Jordan. “What kind of doctor?”

“Ah, I’m just a pediatrician,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a blush. “I love kids.”

“That’s so sweet,” Belle said. “Good pick, Gemma.”

Gemma seemed validated by Belle’s comment, and her smile loosened, taking on a more smug appearance. “Right?And,he has a dog.”

Jordan whipped out his phone, showing us all a picture of a golden retriever. I had to give it to him, he had the whole perfect date thing down. He was easy to look at, educated, had a great job, and a love for animals. If I was a chick, I’d swoon, too.

But I couldn’t help but notice that while Gemma’s hand was holding his, her eyes were still on me.

Jordan kept swiping through photos, telling us all about his dog while Belle laughed and Gemma held her chin high like Jordan was her prized pony instead of her date. Once Jordan tucked his phone away again, Belle squeezed Gemma’s knee.

“Yep, you picked a winner, Gem.”

Jordan smiled, tucking Gemma under one arm. “We both did.”

Gemma smiled up at him just as a breeze blew through, blowing a few strands of her hair over her face. Jordan swept them away, tucking them behind her ear, and my throat tightened.

I didn’t know how long I could wait to find out if this hair-brained scheme would work if I had to watch him touch her like that all night.

But Belle must have sensed it, my inner freakout, because she played our next move like a genius.