Page 35 of Fake

“How can you have an awful night when you look that good?” Fallon frowns. “And how is it that you look that good and I don’t know why?”

Everything happened so fast today, I didn’t call her after lunch to tell her about my new fake relationship. She’d make a bigger deal out of it than it is, maybe try to talk me out of it, or maybe I was just embarrassed by the whole thing. Even now, I’m a tad hesitant to fill her in, and that doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s because I know how she feels about him. Whatever it is, it’s time to get over it.

“I was with Nathan…” I begin, but the rest of the sentence sticks in my throat.

“Nathan? As in Nathan West? You look like that because of Nathan West?” Fallon waves her hand over my face and body, looking intrigued.

“You are so not prepared for this.”

“Something tells me whatever happened tonight is gonna make my readers go crazy when they read about it. My sub count has grown so much since I started talking about Nathan West.” Her gaze shifts toward the ceiling, her eyes glazed and faraway. She’s already trying out headlines and that isn’t going to work. I might not like Nathan, but that doesn’t change the definition of right and wrong.

“Nope. No way. Hard stop. You either promise this is protected by best friend code, or I keep the story to myself,” I say, holding up a finger. “You absolutely cannot publish any of this.”

Fallon blinks. Frowns. For a moment, I wonder if I misjudged the power of best friend code, but then she bobs her head and shows her palms. “Done. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Nathan and I had a meeting scheduled this afternoon to talk about some of my ideas for his house, and you will never guess what he asked me.” Stalling, stalling. Why do I keep stalling? Does some part of me not trust Fallon with this information?

“To come up with an entirely different scheme, using colors that will clash with his personality and ruin the flow of the space.” She speaks with the confidence of someone who’s listened to me complain about work too many times.

“It's worse than that,” I respond with a laugh. “Way worse.”

Fallon puts a hand to her heart and drops her jaw. “Tell me he didn’t decide to go with the architect’s functional placement for the staircase rather than your more aesthetically pleasing idea?”

See? This is Fallon. There’s absolutely zero reason to feel weird about sharing this story with her.

“I mean, that sounds exactly like something he’d do, and bless you for listening to me enough to know that’s even a thing. But no. It's worse than that. Best friend code?” I ask, arching a brow and cocking my head.

Fallon mimes zipping her lips. “This information is protected by said code and shall go no further.”

I explain lunch with Nathan and his request for a fake date, his sudden disappearance and me deciding to use the internet for inspiration on what to wear.

“Which turned out to be a total bust, by the way. Imagine meeting Nathan’s family, who are all perfectly sweet, pretending like I’m falling in love with this guy that I barely even know and what I do know, I don’t like. All while wearing this dress while everyone else was super casual.” I flare my hands down my body, remembering the way Nathan trailed his finger along the swell of my breast. My body throbs its approval while I shove the memory into a dark corner to evaluate later. Or never. Whatever’s better for my mental health.

“Oh, Mina.” Fallon flops back, resting her head on the headrest and her feet on the coffee table. “You always, always meet up before the first date and get your stories straight. You know, set ground rules.”

She speaks with such authority, I wonder how many fake relationships she’s been a part of, but we’ll circle back to that later.

“You mean ground rules like no groping?” I ask. “Or making comments on my underwear choice?”

I flash to the look of contrition on Nathan’s face when I called him on it, then the look of shock when I grabbed his butt. My cheeks twitch into a smile that Fallon wipes away by hitting me in the arm.

“He did not grope you and talk about your underwear!”

The arch to my eyebrow asks her why I’d lie. “His hands. Headed for my butt. But I returned the favor and that seemed to set things straight.” I explain what happened and I can’t believe it, but I’ve finally rendered Fallon speechless.

“This…” she finally manages, “is exactly why you need ground rules.”

I stand and move to the kitchen, my heels clicking across her tile floor until I stop and kick them off with a sigh of relief. “We were supposed to discuss things before the party,” I say as I yank open the fridge. “But he…”

I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I’m not hungry. Or thirsty. And a reason to avoid telling Fallon Nathan ditched me to play White Knight for a little kid isn’t sitting next to the ketchup. If I give her this tidbit of kindness on his part, she’ll be sure her plan to shame him back into his old self is working and I’m not sure that’s true. I don’t want to encourage her.

“He what?” she asks from the doorway, clearly finding my behavior suspicious.

I lean farther into the fridge. “He had something come up.”

Fallon’s head pokes in beside mine. “Something came up. Are you kidding me?”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Especially because I negotiated the rest of my design fee back, plus twenty percent.” I straighten with a little swagger in my step, then swing the fridge door shut like the badass I am.

---