“The chances of this NOT being a trap are as good as your chances of making the football team.”

“I’d rather bathe a tiger than join our college’s football team. Not that I see a difference between the two.”

“You WOULD say that, you weenie. But I bet the option you’re taking is just as bad.”

His best frenemy’s words rang dimly in Sam’s mind, bouncing off the new blank spaces in his brain as he stared at the spectacle in the centre of the living room.

At the time, Sam’s insistence that he knew what he was getting into had seemed perfectly sane.

Now, it was just another echo in the cacophony swirling through his head: a chorus of inane questions, obvious statements, and random vowel noises.

In a distant corner of his mind, Sam was aware that the door was sliding closed. It would be easy to escape, but somehow the sound of it clicking shut felt like a signal that he’d just been locked in an asylum and was expected to run the place.

“Hi.”

The word left his mouth before he could quell the social reflex, and panic slugged him in the chest, as if his heart had decided it was tired of living in a body with an idiot and was trying to punch an escape route through his ribs.

Speaking of supporting people and getting cool rewards...