Page 54 of The Pucking Grump

I’m getting tired of the gasps.

Faye is staring at me, her face white as a ghost. I’m suddenly aware of the fact that everyone here thinks that we are dating, and I should be doing something like strolling up to her and kissing her on the cheek. Maybe I should have brought flowers.

But then, I’m about sick of pretending.

“Can we have the room?” she calls, sounding perkier than I remember. Her team files out silently.

The door shuts behind the last of them, and an awkward silence reigns between us. Faye struggles to her feet as some color returns to her face.

“Blake,” she whispers. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

I can’t tell if she’s pleased or just thrown off. It shouldn’t matter to me, anyway.

“Yeah, I just came from practice. Congratulations on your show.”

“Thanks.” She gives me a feeble smile. “It’s all because of you, though, the fact that I was able to come back so quickly. So really, thanks.”

I officially hate this conversation. Is this how it’s always felt between us, this stilted? Because even while we were strangers, I recall being able to actually talk to her.

“So . . .” Faye shifts her weight from one foot to the other, reminding me dimly of the girl that stayed in my cabin. “Why are you here?”

She’s definitely just thrown off.

“We need to talk,” I say.

She nods, crossing the room so she stands right in front of me. “Okay. Do you think it’ll be a long conversation?”

A wall of resentment rises up in me. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt you preparing for your show.”

Her eyes fill with confusion. “No, that’s not it. I just wanted to know if we needed to sit down.”

Her explanation is perfectly reasonable, and I nod.

“It’ll be pretty short, I think,” I say. “I can’t fucking do this.”

She blinks. “Do . . . what?”

“Pretend to be in a relationship with you when we’re not even speaking.”

Damn. Hadn’t meant to say that last part. Now I just sound like a desperate fool.

Faye looks confused. “What are you talking about? We’re speaking, Blake. We’re speaking right now.”

Anger forces me further down the desperate path. “You know what I mean. We haven’t spoken in days. And . . .”

Faye’s eyes grow wide with more confusion. “Because I’ve been organizing my move and preparing for this show, and that has taken all my time. Also, I thought you didn’t want to speak to me. You haven’t said a word since the interview, and I thought you wanted your space.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I realize I’ve got nothing to say. Again, it sounds perfectly reasonable.

Hurt sparkles in her eyes. “So, you were going to come in here and break up with me just before I go on stage?”

I’m not used to standing in one spot and feeling like the biggest asshole-idiot in the world, so I have absolutely no idea what to do.

Faye doesn’t wait for my response. “You know what? Fine. We can call it off. I’ll get with Kevin, and we’ll figure out how to announce it.”

How is it that the plan, which was completely rational back in the car, now seems like the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life?

“Thanks for your help so far,” Faye says, already turning away.

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