Page 40 of Gamebreaker

"We should get back to the game," she said.

"We should."

Neither of us moved.

"Cam—"

"Round two!" Isla's voice carried from the living room, breaking whatever moment we'd been building.

Cam stepped back first. "Yeah. Coming."

I followed her back to the living room, vodka soda in hand, trying to ignore the electricity still crackling between us.

Round two: Cam drew a perfect lamp. I guessed it immediately.

"See?" I said, trying to recapture our earlier rhythm. "When you draw with actual talent, I'm a genius."

"You guessed one household object. That doesn't make you a genius."

"I'm taking the win. Let me have this."

"Fine."

"Did you just agree with me? Are you feeling okay? Should I call a doctor?"

"Harper."

"Sorry. I'll stop. But for the record, you agreeing with me is very out of character and I'm concerned."

Morgan laughed. "Oh my God, you two are like an old married couple."

"We are not,” Cam and I said in unison.

"You even finish each other's sentences," Destiny added, grinning.

"We don't finish each other's sentences,” Cam said flatly.

“We absolutely don’t finish each other’s sentences,” I said at the same time.

"You literally just did it again," Alex pointed out.

I grabbed my vodka soda and took a long drink. This was fine. Everything was fine.

Somehow, impossibly, we started winning.

Maybe it was the competition. Maybe it was spite. Maybe it was the vodka making me brave. Maybe it was the fact that we were both too stubborn to lose in front of everyone. But we figured out a rhythm. Cam would draw with her annoyingly perfect, steady hand, and I would guess with increasingly unhinged enthusiasm. When it was my turn to draw, I'd make it as chaotic as possible, and Cam would somehow translate my artistic disasters into correct answers.

"GIRAFFE!” Cam shouted, pointing at what I'd thought was clearly a giraffe but everyone else insisted looked like a deformed ladder.

"Yes! See? My partner gets me."

"I don't get you. I'm just good at pattern recognition."

"You get me. Admit it."

"I will not."

"Coward,” I said accusingly.