Page 78 of Fake

“You’re not a nobody,” Fallon retorts with a ferocious shake of her head that sends her silky locks swinging.

“I know, I know. You’re gonna say a bunch of positive ‘ra ra go Mina go’ stuff, but in the scheme of things, Benjamin has made a name for himself, and I haven’t. Not yet anyway. He’s established. He wins awards. I work for a tiny firm here in the Keys. There’s a difference. Just like there’s a difference between me and Nathan. His entire family is dripping with money and stability and opportunity and I haven’t experienced much of that. Like ever. Not to mention they break every single stereotype I have of the rich and famous. They’re kind and generous and welcoming…”

“Too bad Nathan doesn’t fit that description,” growls the watchdog.

“He might be the best of them,” I retort with a warning arch of my brow. Again, if she’d been paying attention to anything I’ve said over the last five or six months, she’d know this.

I tell Fallon about his plans to expand the foundation, leaving out the whole Blossom story as the catalyst. I won’t share Nathan’s tragedies. Fallon has proven I can’t trust her with the juicy bits.

“Are you gonna use your connection with him to apply to the foundation and get your mom’s medical bills taken care of?” Fallon asks, crossing her arms and stalking to the window to stare at the sky. “Like pull some strings and jump to the front of the line?”

“What?” The suggestion is so shocking I actually step back. “No. Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Fallon sounds disgusted with me, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. If anyone should be disgusted, it should be me, seeing as I now have to explain how not to take advantage of a person you care about to someone I thought knew better.

“Nathan and I just started dating. What we are is brand spankin’ new?—”

“You’ve been together for six months, Mina.”

“But it didn’t get real until recently.” I furrow my brow. “There’s no way I’m going to him with my hand out, expecting him to solve my financial problems. That’s just not how you handle relationships.”

“So now it’s a relationship.” Fallon looks like she wants to choke on the word. “Isn’t the whole thing supposed to be fake?”

Is she really calling me out on not being in a relationship when just five seconds ago, she suggested we’ve been together long enough to ask him for money?

What am I missing?

How are we miscommunicating?

“It was fake. But now it isn’t. If you’d just listen, you’d know that, especially because I haven’t gotten to the best part. I was at Nathan’s house last night. This morning too,” I finish with a grin that feels a tad forced.

“You slept with him?” Fallon leans against the window and the grim set of her jaw says she hasn’t been listening at all. She’s too busy being protective. Given what she thinks she knows about Nathan, I can understand.

Time to remedy her misconceptions.

“We had that night, Fal. You know the one. There’s talking and making love and it's intimate and sweaty and beautiful and you know, just connecting with another human being on this personal level with all the physical stuff thrown in to make it real and raw and…” I trail off because Fallon’s just standing there. Staring at me.

No…glaring at me.

“Are you done?” she barks, and I recoil.

“I am now. Why do you look like I just force fed you garbage?”

“Because you did!” Fallon’s jaw drops like I’m an idiot for asking. “For God’s sake, Mina! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I’d share the best night of my life with my friend, and she’d be happy for me.”

“How can I be happy when you’re being a damn fool?” Fallon closes her eyes, exhaling slowly, then softens her tone. “We talked about this. Nathan is using you.”

She emphasizes the last sentence, speaking deliberately, enunciating every messed-up syllable.

Now I’m genuinely annoyed. She’s obviously not heard anything I’ve said lately.

“We did talk about this.” I enunciate even harder than she did. “And I informed you that you’re wrong about him.”

“Yet you still can’t talk about money. Or your mom. Or any of the things that matter. Did you tell him about me? That we’re friends?” She holds out her hands, like she’s begging me to see her point, but all I see is someone who’s too proud to admit she might have been wrong.

“I’m sorry but you weren’t exactly top of mind last night. We were at an event?—”

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