Page 52 of Hard to Fake

When the bill comes, he’s the first to reach for it.

I fall into step with Nova on our way outside, talking about her plans for a new art exhibit.

“Hey, Brooke.” We glance back as Miles catches up to us.

He shrugs under his jacket, a lingering grin on his face from the round of jokes and ribbing inside.

Clay loops an arm around his wife, and they break off with the others. I glance back only to realize everyone’s out ahead of us.

“I was thinking about this sorority thing." Miles pulls the collar of his jacket up.“It's one thing if you have a date, but it's better if you have a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend?” I echo.

“Yeah. A serious one. You want to put on a good show in front of these sisters, then let’s go all the way.”

My mouth drops open.

“You want to be my fake boyfriend.” It sounds even crazier out loud.

“Why not?”

I laugh. “I have a lot riding on this, Miles. And you’re not capable of that kind of deception."

“Act like I'm in head over heels for you? Like I have been for a while?” His smile is heart-stoppingly sexy. “Game on, Princess.”

13

BROOKE

"The chair coverings should be cream, not ecru. The resort said they didn't have any in stock. Can you believe it?"Caroline demands.

The Zoom call to go over last-minute sorority weekend planning was supposed to be over ages ago.I've already done what I said I would do.Now, they're going through every tiny detail.

Kill me.

Brooke: I can’t believe you dodged Caroline’s planning call.

Ruby: I was performing emergency surgery on an eighteen-year-old kid who impaled himself on a bong.

Brooke: You’re a lucky bitch.

I turned my video off to sift through the piles of designer clothes I dragged out of my wardrobe so I can find some pieces to sell until I get this contract.

But as I go through one dress and bag after another, it’s hard to identify any I could bear to part with. I have amazing memories of all of them, ideas of ways I haven’t worn them yet.

"Brooke, are you even listening?" Caroline's voice interrupts my thoughts.

I click on my video, tilting the camera so it’s not obvious I’m on the floor surrounded by clothes. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, can you confirm the table chart for meals?”

"It’s done. I’ve emailed it over."

“Good. Hannah was supposed to do it, but she’s been a flake.”

I frown. “I thought she was pulling eighty-hour weeks at her firm?”

“Everyone has an excuse.” Caroline sighs, nodding as she scans something on her screen next to the camera. “That’s it.”

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