Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 138

The girl with the clipboard, Jenny or Jessica or something, had led me to the library a few minutes ago, practically vibrating with excitement. She pulled me into the room with a wide grin, her breath puffing in the cold air seeping through the old window frames.

“Alright, you’re the first murder victim,” she said, flipping to the second page of her notes. “Stabbed in the chest.”

I cocked an eyebrow at that. “Stabbed?”

She nodded, twirling her pen. “Yeah, like, right through the heart.”

I huffed a small, dry laugh. “Solid choice.”

She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. “Wait, would that actually kill you? I feel like you’d just... walk it off or something.”

I smirked. “No. Stabbing to the heart? Messy. Painful. Pretty solid way to take someone out.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Perfect! Okay, yeah, just... act dead. You can move around a bit if you hear a murder happening, but, like, no talking. You’re not a ghost or anything.”

I gave her a slow nod, leaning back on the small leather couch, stretching my legs out, arms draped over the backrest.

“Okay! Have fun being dead!” She scampered off, her ponytail swishing like an overexcited golden retriever.

I close my eyes, letting the crackling fire soak into my skin. The leather creaks softly beneath me as I shift, trying to find a more comfortable position. The room is filled with that old-paper-and-leather smell, mixed with the faint smokiness of the fire.

Dead.

Not exactly a stretch. I’ve played this part before. Too many times, actually.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, followed by a hushed, excited whisper. The door creaks open, and two people shuffle inside, their shadows stretching long across the walls.

“Oh shit,” a guy mutters, stopping short when he sees me sprawled on the couch.

His friend snorts. “Relax, dude. He’s just playing dead. It’s part of the game.”

The first guy lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Yeah. Forgot for a second. He just looks... kinda real, y’know?”

“Man, if he was really dead, do you think he’d be chilling like that? One leg all casually crossed over the other? He looks like he’s about to ask for a whiskey, not a body bag.”

I smirk internally, keeping my eyes closed.

They start shuffling through the shelves, whispering to each other about motives and clues, clearly trying to piece together the “crime.”

One of them gets brave and leans over me, his breath smelling like stale beer and pretzels. “Hey, man. You know who killed you?”

I stay perfectly still.

“Bro, he’s dead. He can’t talk,” his friend hisses, dragging him away.

They leave after a minute, their footsteps echoing down the hall.

I let out a slow breath, my mind drifting to a pair of green, wide eyes and soft, flushed cheeks.

Penny.

I wonder if she’s playing along, throwing herself into the drama of it all, or if she’s tucked away somewhere quiet, hiding from the chaos.

A loud, shrill scream cuts through the hallway, and I sit up, every muscle going tense. My first thought is Penny, but then I catch the familiar, high-pitched giggle of one of the girls from the retreat, and I force myself to relax a fraction.

I push up off the couch, stretching my shoulders as I head for the door.

The hallway is chaotic — people whispering, pointing at each other, acting overly suspicious on purpose. A small crowd has gathered near the grand staircase, heads craning to look at something on the landing.

“She’s dead!” someone shouts, pointing to a girl dramatically sprawled across the bottom few steps, one arm draped over the banister, her head tilted at a cartoonish angle.

“Damn,” a guy mutters, snapping a picture on his phone. “This is actually kinda fun.”

I turn to head back to the library, but something stops me.

A flicker of movement at the top of the stairs.

Long, dark hair. Small, graceful frame.

Penny.

She’s leaning over the railing, watching the scene below with wide eyes, her fingers curled around the polished wood like she’s half a second away from bolting. She catches my eye, and for a brief moment, her shoulders relax.

I tip my head slightly, the smallest of nods, and her lips twitch into a ghost of a smile.

Good. She’s okay.

I step back into the library, resuming my place on the couch, letting the warmth of the fire soak back into my skin. I close my eyes again, forcing my mind to quiet.

But my senses stay sharp, every creak and whisper from the hallway keeping my nerves on edge.

I know it’s a game. Just a stupid, college, murder-mystery game.

But the thought of her name and the word “murder” in the same sentence still makes something dark and primal twist in my chest.

Footsteps echo down the hallway again, heavier this time. I don’t bother opening my eyes until they stop just inside the library door.

I crack one eyelid, catching a pair of beat-up sneakers, scuffed jeans, and a nervous fidget of fingers.

I look up. It’s one of the guys from the football team — wide shoulders, curly hair, a little too tall to be that skittish, but his eyes keep darting around like he expects someone to jump out of the bookcases and stab him for real.

He takes a few hesitant steps inside, eyes sweeping over the old books, the pool table, the crackling fire, and then finally, me.

“Uh... hey, man,” he whispers, leaning closer.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Someone just threatened to kill me,” he says, looking over his shoulder like he expects his would-be murderer to pop up behind him. “Like, in the game. But still. What should I do?”

I tilt my head, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. I’m supposed to be dead, but this guy looks genuinely freaked out.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees, locking my eyes on his. I keep my voice low, slow, like I’m telling him a dark, bloody secret. “Look, I’m not technically allowed to talk, since I’m dead.”

He swallows, eyes flicking to the fire, then back to me.

“But,” I continue, letting my lips twitch into a slow, amused smirk, “if I were you, I wouldn’t go around telling people you’ve been threatened. Pretty sure that’s a fast track to getting framed for my murder.”

His eyes widen, and he steps back like I just told him his fate is sealed.

“Oh. Shit. Right.”

I nod, sitting back again, arms stretching over the back of the couch. “Yep.”

He shuffles awkwardly for a moment, his eyes darting between me and the door. “Okay, uh, thanks, man. Good talk.”

I just nod once, and he backs out of the room, the door creaking shut behind him.

I let out a slow breath, a hint of a smile curling at the corner of my mouth. These people have no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into.

The fire crackles again, and I close my eyes, listening to the chaotic whispers and hurried footsteps in the hallway outside.

If Penny’s still having fun, then I’ll play along. But if someone corners her or pulls her into a room without my knowledge...

Yeah. I’ll come back from the dead for that.