Game Over: He Was Just a Task

"You'll go in her place, Wren." Knox Harrington pointed one finger straight at my face. A throwaway order. It nailed me to the wall in front of everyone.

The dare card on the table spelled out the punishment: confess your love, in public, to the ugliest, coldest freak in the whole school. His childhood sweetheart had drawn it.

She didn't want to go. So to protect her, Knox didn't even hesitate. He threw me out as the fall girl. Chapter 1 The game started without me.

I was still in the kitchen, slicing their cake onto little plates. They hadn't waited for me. Not that it meant anything. That's what I told myself.

It was Knox's twentyfirst birthday, and everyone here was one of his people. His boys. His circle. Trustfund kids from Fairmont's oldmoney crowd, every last one of them.

I barely knew any of them. They ran their own show. That was normal, probably. So I pulled a chair into the corner and sat down. The game was simple. Truth or Dare.

The bottle spun on the table, and whoever it pointed at took the punishment. I watched for a while. It got boring fast.

I had just yawned and was reaching for a slice of cake when the whole room went off. "Finally! Our little princess is up!" "Pick truth, Sloane.

I've got my question ready." They hooted, looking back and forth between Sloane Kingsley and Knox. Someone whistled.

But Sloane shook her head. "No." She reached out and pulled a card from the white stack on the table. "I'll take a dar—" The word snapped off in her throat.

The whole room froze with her.

Until someone stood, leaned over her shoulder, and read the card out loud. "Confess your love to the ugliest, most unpleasant student in school." "Okay, so who's the ugliest?" Someone called out, "The school's huge.

Tough call." Then a guy rubbed his chin. "Isn't it that transfer, Julian Whitlock? The one flying back this week?" Julian Whitlock. I knew the name.

He'd enrolled but never shown his face. Word was he'd been in some accident and went overseas for treatment. He studied remotely after that.

Even landed a few impressive projects abroad. Due back in a few days. His grades were solid. But somehow, the rumors ran ugly. They said he was cold. Arrogant.

Impossible to get along with. And hideous. A scar across his face. The kind of face that scared people. Why would Sloane ever confess to someone like that? She lifted her head.

Looked at Knox, sitting beside her. "Knox." Her voice went small and helpless, like the world was ending. "I don't want to go." "I don't want to confess to anyone else." Anyone else.

Subtle. Knox sat on the couch, just outside the reach of the light. Shadow lay over him like a second coat. He set down his phone. Stretched out one long leg.

The corner of his mouth curled. "Mm. Then forget it." The prince himself had spoken. The tension in the room dissolved on the spot.

People rushed to smooth it over. "Right, it's just a game. Why so serious?" "How could anyone make Sloane confess to that freak?" A scatter of voices, all rushing to take her side.

Then, out of nowhere: "Says who?" A palm cracked down on the table. The girl across the circle shot to her feet.

Sloane's sworn rival at school. "When the game started," she shouted, "didn't Sloane herself say nobody skips their punishment? Nobody backs out?

So why is she the exception?" Chapter 2 The girl's voice carried. She stood her ground, glaring across the table. "No.

I'm not letting this slide." "Everyone before her took their punishment." "So here's the deal, Sloane. Tomorrow you go confess to Julian Whitlock.

Or you find someone in this room to go in your place. Your pick." Sloane's jaw tightened. She wanted to argue. She had nothing.

Because when the game started, those were her exact words: if you can't take the game, don't come back next time. And now she was the one backing out. But look around the circle.

Besides her and her rival, every player was a guy. Who could take her place? She ducked her head and tugged at Knox's sleeve. "Knox! Say something." His expression didn't move.

His gaze drifted over the crowd. Slowly. Slowly. It landed on me. Something in my stomach dropped. No. Knox. You wouldn't. "Wren." He said my name after all. Lazy.

Careless. "Sloane doesn't want to go. You'll take her place." Like it never crossed his mind that his little shadow might say no. I pressed my fingers together.

This was the last task. Two years ago, my boyfriend Noah Reid boarded a plane out of the country. We grew up in the same children's home, the two of us. All we had was each other.

Childhood sweethearts, if the word even covers it. That plane went down over the ocean. Vanished. I cried through the whole night.

The next morning, a strange thing bound itself to me. A System. It told me Knox Harrington was the male lead of a book, and the story had an opening for a simp.

A disposable side girl. All I had to do was stay by his side. Meet his demands. Follow his orders. And when it was all over, I'd get my wish. Noah would come back. But honestly?

This last task was an ugly one. A confession is supposed to be the truest thing you can give someone. It shouldn't be a con. And there was the other thing.

What if he really did come back? What if the first thing he saw was me confessing to another man? The System didn't come with a decline button, though.

All I could do was lift my head and keep my voice flat. "And if I don't want to confess either?" "So?" Knox tossed the question right back.

Like whatever I wanted was beside the point. "Does what you want matter?" Right. Did it? The breath I'd been holding went out of me, slow and even. I nodded. Took a long moment.

Then rose to my feet. "Fine. I'll go in Sloane's place." The words had barely left my mouth when a chime rang inside my skull.

System: [Task 99 initiated.] System: [Upon completion, Host will be unbound from male lead Knox Harrington.] System: [Wishing you success!] And almost in the same breath came Knox's easy reply. "Mm.

Good luck, then." The circle of his boys traded looks. The kind you wear before a good show. Half of them were already laughing. "Wren, the guy's hideous.

Think you can actually get the words out?" "If Julian Whitlock says yes, no takebacks." "Let's start a group chat. Supervise the lovebirds." "That's evil.

I love it." Chapter 3 Two years by Knox's side, and I had no title. No claim. Nothing. To everyone in his world, I was just the rich boy's little shadow. Come when called.

Do as told. And now this. Confessing to a stranger on his golden girl's behalf. So pitiful, right? But God knew. In that whole room, nobody felt more free than me.

So I sat through their mockery without blinking. Eventually they ran out of material. I was bored too. I got up to leave.

Sloane stopped me. "Wren!" "So sorry about this," she said. "Really. Thanks for taking one for me." Then she held something out to me. "Here.

You should take this back." It was my own birthday gift to Knox. A jar of paper lucky stars. Funny thing. Knox was the one who'd asked for it.

There'd been a film screening in class once.

In one scene, the heroine folded a paper star and smiled at the hero. "They say if you give these away, the stars will keep you together forever." Knox had leaned in, out of nowhere. "Birdie.

Fold me a jar of those." Request number ninetyeight. Not hard, as tasks went. But paper stars meant something to me. Something old. Something private.

I tilted my head at her. "Oh," I said, and took the jar. Perfect timing, honestly. All that mattered was the task. I'd never wanted to give it away in the first place. "Sure.

Might come in handy for tomorrow's confession." Together forever. I didn't believe in any of that. But Knox's head snapped up. His lashes lifted, and he stared at me. Unblinking.

Hard. Like he was digging for the truth. Did I mean it, or was it an act? Too bad. After the confession, he and I would be nothing to each other. That part was no act.

Julian Whitlock's flight landed early. The faculty advisor announced it in the class group chat.

He must have caught wind of the rumors, because he added a warning at the end. [I'll formally introduce Julian Whitlock at this afternoon's department assembly.] [This school stands for decency.] [I will not see any student bullied or frozen out.

Not here.] Right after the announcement, one of Knox's friends made good on his promise. A side group chat.

Me, added without asking. [Wren, Julian Whitlock's doing his enrollment paperwork. Get ready.] [Why not confess right at the assembly?] [Heard he's hideous.

Just power through, lol.] It was obvious what this chat was for. Frontrow seats. Those oldmoney heirs had their own circles. Their group chats had never once included me.

This was a first. And it existed for gossip. Commentary. A show. By afternoon, Sloane had posted on Instagram herself. [First assembly today. Counting on you!] She tagged me.

Specially. Everyone from the party piled into the comments. [Counting on you!] [Counting on you!] The post dragged in people who had no clue what was happening. [Someone explain?

What is this?] [What did I miss this time…] She'd probably done the math. With this much noise, I couldn't back out at the last second.

And after all that fire and fanfare, the whole school was counting down to the afternoon assembly. Chapter 4 Before class even started, someone stood up to peek down the hallway.

Then he spun around with the news. "Advisor's coming!" "There's a guy behind him." "Black coat. Tall. Face is, um…" Someone called my name.

One of Knox's friends. "Julian Whitlock's here. Go, go!" His voice boomed through the room. I flinched, then looked back, annoyed.

Knox sat in the back row, watching me with half a smile. His lips moved, shaping silent words. Something like: You can still back out, Birdie.

In that one confused second, Sloane shoved me. I stumbled. Two lurching steps. Straight into the chest of the guy who had just walked in. He wore a black wool coat. Tall.

A cool scent of pine. Familiar, in a way that made no sense at all. The advisor's voice came from beside me. "This is our new classmate, just back from overseas.

Julian Whitlock." Julian Whitlock