Page 22 of Our Final Game

“I know you are.”

“Okay, so use your cloak and sleep on the floor.”

“Chandra! I promise I won’t lay a fucking finger on you! So either shut the fuck up and get in the bed, or sleep on the fucking floor. I don’t care!” He snarls at me, and I stand frozen, staring at him, my heart feeling like it’s beating in my throat.

“You’re unbelievable,” I breathe, finally stepping into the room and closing the door behind me.

Tyson just stands there, looking at me, his expression growing bored. “What a waste of a pretty face,” he scoffs.

“Oh, you think I’m pretty, Tyson?” I sneer and use the game’s interface to change out of my armor and into regular clothes.

“Who wouldn’t think that? I’m not in denial like you,” he says while I kick my boots off, placing them by the door.

I turn around swiftly. “What am I in denial about? Enlighten me!”

“That you’re attracted to me. And I think you like arguing with me. You like it when I yell at you and tell you what to do.” Tyson smirks.

“Oh, you’re definitely not okay. Did you hit your head on the rocks back at the tomb when you fell asleep?”

He ignores me, looking up at the ceiling instead. “Ah, and what happened to calling me daddy? I liked that Rohan.”

A chill runs down my spine; I can’t do anything but glare at him, my face burning with embarrassment. Truly, he’s the worst, and I can’t believe this is happening to me. He’s right, this has to be a nightmare. The worst one I’ve had yet, to be exact.

I can’t believe they’re the same person.

I don’t believe that.

“Exactly,” he says as I stand quietly. And it feels like he’s beaten me at something yet again. I fucking hate it. I hate him.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!”

“Yes, yes, I know, so you’ve been telling me.” He yanks the blanket away, uncovering the bed, and lies down, spreading his long limbs out. I swallow, watching his movements, the way his tongue plays with his snake bites, and the way his bicep flexes when he puts one of his hands behind his head makes my mouth dry up.

And he’s so fucking big.

Ugh.

“Move. Over.” I grit my teeth as I drop my knee onto the other side of the bed. He rolls his eyes and moves his legs closer to his side so I can get in. I lay beside him with my back turned away and try to keep as much space between us without falling off this stupid fucking bed. Which there isn’t much, because it isn’t even that big to begin with.

What did I do to deserve this?

Who did I piss off?

“I can hear you thinking from here.”

“Shut up, Tyson,” I say, and he lets out a small laugh.

* * *

The sun coming through the small window feels warm against my cheek, waking me up from my sleep. I blink once, twice, three times. My head is hazy, but I’m hoping I’m back in my room and last night was a weird nightmare in which Tyson is tormenting me even more after losing the competition. Maybe my mind was playing with me because I couldn’t stop thinking about the loss or something.

But no.

I open my eyes fully, and my body is curled flush against Tyson’s large, warm form. He’s still asleep, his breathing even. But once my brain catches up to what my body is doing, I flinch away, noticing how close we got throughout the night.

Thank God I woke up first.

I would’ve never heard the end of it.