Page 111 of End Game

I immediately stop.

Fucking traitor leg.

Cami’s mouth curves, but she looks back out the windshield without calling me on it.

Because here’s the thing.

Cami and I have done a lot together. We’ve lived together for months. I’ve seen her sick, pissed off, half-asleep, laughing until she snorts, and standing barefoot in the kitchen eating shredded cheese directly from the bag like some kind of feral dairy goblin.

We’ve also had sex.

Very memorable sex.

But we’ve never done this.

Just Dex and Cami. No party. No NPCs. No Micah beside me making everything feel easier.

Apparently that’s enough to make my fucking leg bounce.

And after all the discussion the other night about relationships being different—not better, not more important, just ours—I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Cami and I deserve an ours of our own.

“So where are we going?” she asks.

“Can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a surprise.”

Her eyes narrow. “Did Ronan help you plan this?”

I gasp. “Take that back.”

Her laughter gets louder as I turn into the parking lot and gesture triumphantly toward the arcade.

Cami looks at the building.

Then at me.

Then back at the building.

A grin slowly spreads across her face. “Oh, you’re going down.”

Every nervous thought in my head disappears. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Dollface, I brought you here because I love watching you lose.”

She unbuckles her seat belt. “You better have brought your credit card, because you’re about to spend a lot of money learning some things about me.”

Grinning, I climb out of the car. “Is that a promise?”

I learn two things within the first fifteen minutes.

One: Cami is a fucking menace at air hockey.

Two: I’m apparently dating a cheater.