I Can Use Filthy Game Currency In The Real World
Chapter 48: Girls Fakes That

Chapter 48: Girls Fakes That

Not just any bar, a quiet, cozy room bar, perfect for private chats. The air smelled faintly of wood polish and alcohol, with a low hum of muffled voices from beyond the walls. I blinked, quickly scanning my surroundings to get my bearings.

The room was boxed in by wooden walls, their grainy texture catching the dim amber light from a single hanging lamp. A sliding door sat at one end, half-open, letting in a sliver of the hallway’s glow. I glanced at the seat across from me, empty. Hailey hadn’t arrived yet.

We’d agreed to grab drinks together, but I’d gotten here first and was waiting. My mind adjusted fast, like slipping into a familiar pair of shoes.

By my reckoning, the morning chat with Hailey in the park was just five minutes ago, so fresh I could still hear her laugh. I liked that. No matter what she said next, I was set on sticking to my earlier lie.

Bzzz—

My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out and saw a long message. Hailey had texted me the room number and told me to come in. Good thing she was already here, I’d have looked dumb asking the staff.

"Oh, I’m late, aren’t I? Sorry," she said, sliding the door open. "The team leader grabbed me out of nowhere..."

Her voice was rushed, a little breathless. She stepped inside, her jacket rustling as she shrugged it off and tossed it onto the bench. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from hurrying over, and her hair was slightly messy from the wind outside.

"Nah, you’re fine," I replied, waving it off. "I made you wait earlier, didn’t I?"

I leaned back against the cushioned seat, the fabric cool against my shirt. The room felt snug, almost too small, with a low wooden table between us cluttered with coasters and a menu tablet.

"Lol," she giggled. "What’d you order?"

Her laugh was light, bouncing off the walls. She plopped down across from me, tugging her scarf loose and letting it pool around her neck. Her eyes darted to the table, curious.

"Nothing yet," I said, tapping the tablet. "What do you want?"

"Ugh, I’m starving," she groaned, already scrolling through the menu.

Her stomach growled loud enough for me to hear, and she laughed, pressing a hand to it. She flicked through the options—snacks, fried stuff, the usual bar food—and picked a few things. For drinks, she went with alcohol. The tablet beeped as she confirmed the order, its screen flashing green.

"You good at drinking, Alex?" she asked, glancing up with a smirk.

"Uh... I don’t know?" I shrugged, unsure.

"Eh?" she blinked, tilting her head.

Her brows lifted, waiting for more. Honestly, I wasn’t great with alcohol—never had been—but I wondered if that carried over here. The room’s lamp swayed faintly overhead, casting soft shadows across her face.

"Let’s find out tonight, then!" she grinned, clapping her hands.

"Hehe, I love drinking," she added, then paused. "But I’m not good at it!"

Her laugh was louder this time, warm and carefree. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her sleeve sliding down to show that silver bracelet again. The door slid shut behind her with a soft thud, sealing us in.

"Aha," I chuckled, nodding along.

As we swapped small talk, the drinks arrived first. A waiter slid the door open just enough to slip in a tray—two bottles of alcohol, chilled and frosty, plus glasses and a plate of salty snacks.

The glass clinked as he set it down, then he vanishied, leaving us alone again. We poured each other’s drinks naturally, the clear liquid glugging into the cups, and grabbed some snacks to munch on.

"Wow, I use that too!" Hailey said, popping a peanut into her mouth.

"Haha, heard you liked it," I teased, sipping my alcohol.

The burn hit my throat, sharp and clean, warming me from the inside. The peanuts crunched between my teeth, salty and crisp, cutting through the alcohol’s bite.

"Ugh, still, it’s bitter," she grimaced, scrunching her nose.

She took a swig anyway, her lips puckering for a second. She seemed in a good mood, her cheeks already tinged pink from the first sip. I could tell she was waiting for the right moment to steer us back to that spicy, 19+ topic from earlier.

"So, tell me more about what you said before!" she urged, leaning in.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," I stammered, caught off guard.

I hadn’t expected her to bring it up first—it threw me, and heat crept up my neck. She chewed on a snack, her eyes brighter now than they’d been in the morning park, sparkling under the bar’s warm light.

"So..." I started, fumbling for words.

Truth was, I’d already spilled everything—there wasn’t much left to add. This could go south fast if I didn’t think quick. The alcohol bottle sat half-empty already, condensation dripping onto the table.

"How much did we talk about?" she prompted. "Your girlfriend was having a tough time, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "But I’ve been thinking about it. Doesn’t your boyfriend ever feel unsatisfied?"

"Huh?" she blinked, her glass pausing mid-air.

"Uh... might sound sad to you, Alex," she said slowly, "but I thought about it like I was your girlfriend. Maybe she flipped it around instead."

"No way," I shot back. "That’s impossible."

"Why?" she pressed, her tone light but sharp.

Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and curious—or maybe teasing. I couldn’t tell. She swirled her glass, the alcohol sloshing gently, and the lamp’s glow danced across her face.

"Well," I said, leaning forward, "I saw with my own eyes how much my girlfriend liked it."

"Nah," she smirked. "You’d be surprised how many girls fake it~"

"Hm," I hummed. "Really?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "How can you be sure? Unless... maybe she liked girls too, and that’s why she struggled—so breaking up wouldn’t make sense otherwise, right?"

"You act pretty normal, though," I pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"...Uh, sometimes?" she giggled, shrugging. "Hehe."

Her laugh was soft, almost shy. As we talked, those photos and videos I’d seen flashed through my mind, stirring something deep. I shoved down the urge to picture her naked, moaning right here, and kept going. She’d had a decent amount of alcohol already—maybe we could push harder now.

"Every time we did it, she’d say I finished her off," I said, testing the waters.

"Pfft—cough, hahaha!" Hailey choked, coughing hard. "Kuhhh—"

"You okay?" I asked, half-laughing.

"Aukugh—kuhh—kuh—" she wheezed, pounding her chest.

She’d started coughing the second I spoke, just like with the coffee earlier. This time, it was water she’d grabbed to chase the alcohol, and it sprayed a little as she sputtered. Her face went red, eyes watering, but she waved it off with a grin.

"Ugh... ha," she panted. "Alex, you’re such a dog."

"Haha... another alcohol?" I suggested, holding up the empty bottle.

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded eagerly. "I like it."

Before I knew it, the first bottle was long gone, its glass slick with melted frost. I tapped the tablet, and a fresh one arrived fast—chilled, gleaming, ready to go. I poured her glass, the liquid glugging out, and the conversation kicked back up as the night rolled on.

"Anyway, you can’t fake that, right?" I said, leaning back in my seat.

The bar’s warm light flickered overhead, casting soft shadows across the wooden table cluttered with empty bottles. The air smelled sharp with alcohol and salty snacks, a faint buzz humming in my ears from the drinks.

"That’s... true...?" Hailey replied, her voice trailing off. "Wow."

She blinked at me, her glass paused halfway to her lips. Her cheeks were flushed now, a rosy glow spreading across her face—either from the alcohol or the topic, I couldn’t tell. She set the glass down with a soft clink, her fingers lingering on it.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I think she just wasn’t the right match for me. You know how it goes—some couples split because their bedroom tastes don’t line up."

The words slipped out casually, but I watched her reaction closely. The room felt smaller now, the wooden walls closing in with every sip we took. A faint draft slipped through the sliding door, rustling the coasters on the table.

"Uh, huh," she hummed, tilting her head.

"Hailey, why?" I asked, catching the flicker in her eyes.

"Oh, no way," she waved a hand. "Well, I mean... uh."

Her voice dipped, hesitant. She grabbed her glass again, her bracelet jingling softly as she moved. Then—gulp—she downed a full shot of alcohol in one go, no chaser, no snacks, and fired a question right back at me.

"So, what’s the deal?" she asked, leaning forward. "What happens if a girl finishes like that?"

"Huh?" I blinked, thrown off.

"Well, I’ve never done it before..." she mumbled, dropping her gaze.

Her voice turned small, almost creepy, like she was embarrassed to admit it. She hunched over slightly, her hair falling forward to shield her face. The heat in her cheeks deepened, and her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve.

"Oh, it takes some skill," I said, recovering fast. "To answer what you asked first... yeah, it’s literally just that. Finishing."