Page 60 of Fake Out

Sitting on my couch, I scroll through the list of movies on the screen, staring at the pictures but not reading the titles.

It doesn’t matter what they are, anyway. I already know I won’t be watching a movie. Just like I won’t be doing anything else anytime soon.

I’ve been sitting here all day long, feeling like there’s a weight tied around my heart. Over and over, I replay the conversation Charlie and I had in the doorway last night.

I know I might have been too hard on him, but it’s impossible to separate him from the wreckage of my career. My whole life feels like it’s spiraling downwards, and if he hadn’t pushed for us to go out the other night, this wouldn’t have happened.

Yes, he apologized — and I know that he didn’t mean any harm by it. And it’s not like I couldn’t have said no.

It’s the fact that this seems like a harbinger of what was to come. From the beginning, I knew not to get involved with him. He was Charlie Elwood, for God’s sake. The football star with a new girl on his arm every week and a new headline every month that would make most people ashamed.

I knew he was trouble, and yet I fell for him. I let him in. Worst of all, I trusted him.

Which I really shouldn’t have done because he has trouble even making good decisions for himself.

So it doesn’t matter how much I want to pick up my keys and drive over to his house right now. It doesn’t matter how much I want to throw my arms around him and tell him I’m sorry and I’ll never leave his side again.

I can’t forget that, with Charlie, there’s always trouble on the horizon.

It might hurt now, but I know that in the end, we’ll be better off without each other.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely register the sound of a key turning in the lock. The front door creaks open, and Ria steps into the apartment carrying a bag of takeout.

“Hey, Marissa,” she calls softly, her voice full of concern.

“Hey,” I reply, forcing a weak smile as I put the remote down.

She studies me. “You’re still in your pajamas.”

I look down at my clothes. “Yeah, it’s only…”

Shoot. What time is it, anyway?

I glance at the window, where the sky is gray.

“It’s six,” Ria says gently. “Six p.m.”

“I know,” I grumble. “I was just…”

I collapse back into the couch cushions. Oh, forget about it. There’s no sense in trying to defend myself or make up a cover story. She’s already seen me for the mess I am.

“How are you holding up?” she asks.

My chuckle is dry. “How does it look like I’m holding up?”

“Honestly? It doesn’t look good.”

“Yeah.” I bury my face in my hands.

Ria sets the food on the kitchen counter and joins me on the couch. “I brought you some dinner. Figured you probably hadn’t eaten all day.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, realizing that she’s right. My stomach clenches at the thought of food, but I know I have to eat something.

“Have you heard from Charlie?” she asks.

“No.” I sigh. “I told him I don’t want to see him again, so it’s not like I’m expecting to hear from him.”

She hesitates. “Is that what you really want? To not see him again?”

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