Page 56 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

He was making breakfast on the third day—buttering a bagel because it somehow reminded him of her—when the idea struck. It was obvious, really, wasn’t it? He couldn’t go to her, but he could make it as easy as possible for her to come to him.

She’s not going to come to you. She hates you. She’ll never forgive you.

Nik flicked that voice away like the gnat it was. He hadn’t studied sports psychology for years just to let negative thoughts colonise his thinking and fuck up his game.

If he gave Aria everything she’d need to get in touch, and maybe apologised again—in a way that didn’t put any pressure on her—she’d have time to work through her feelings. She could decide if she wanted to see him. And if she did, she would. And if she didn’t…

Well, if she didn’t, he’d have to leave her the fuck alone, wouldn’t he? Even if the thought cast a film of grey over his life, his future, his everything. He couldn’t push her; he’d already pushed her enough. He’d pushed their entire relationship into being, as if she were some kind of doll and he was the puppet master. And that wasn’t how he wanted them to be. It wasn’t who he wanted to be.

So, he’d wait. He’d wait for her. Even if it took a fucking century. Even if she never came at all.

Abandoning his bagel, Nik found his phone and brought up Keynes’s number.

I need you to send this to Aria. Please send exactly this? Okay? Please. It’s important.

I’m sorry. I’d find you and tell you exactly how sorry I am, but I don’t think you’d want me to do that. I won’t contact you again—directly or indirectly—unless you ask me to. If you don’t want to now, but you do later, that’s cool. Even if ‘later’ winds up being 2067.

If you need to talk, or you just fancy sending me a bag of dog shit, here’s my address. Also, the hotel’s address, in case you want to tell my mother what a dick I am. That would be excellent revenge, because she would beat me with a spoon, and those things hurt. While we’re at it, here’s my number, my email (which you already have) and every social media account I’ve ever made. I will check those every day, just in case. Even if it halves my productivity and makes me want to claw my eyes out simultaneously.

I know I fucked up. I know I lied. But everything else between us, from the first email I sent you to this message, is 100% real to me. I wasn’t trying to trick you into something you didn’t want to give. I didn’t expect things to happen the way they did. I just loved you. I love you now. I wanted to be around you and I was incredibly selfish about it. I’m sorry. I will never be sorry enough. But I am sorry.

Yours faithfully,

Nik.

A few moments later, his phone buzzed.

Good luck, mate.

* * *

Aria thought she’d finally gotten the tears out of her system when she woke up to a text message from Keynes. Or rather, from Nik. Whatever she called it, its effect was the same.

She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her phone and cried some more.

God, she was so bored of crying. But at least her outbursts remained varied and exciting, right? Over the past few days, she’d cried over betrayal; then bagels; then her tan lines, which reminded her of things best forgotten; and finally, her sox, which was forever ruined. And not just because she’d sat on it.

Now she was crying over Nik’s message. Because, as she read the words, she could hear his voice—all cockiness gone, his tone soft and hesitant, the way it got when he was nervous.

He’d been nervous, sometimes. With her.

And once she remembered that, she remembered a thousand other things too, all of them jostling for attention, desperate to be the main cause of today’s tears. Nik’s smile, sometimes sweet, sometimes wicked, always provoking. Nik’s constant humour, his warm, easy affection and his recklessness. She threw the phone onto the bed and slapped her hands over her eyes as if that would stop the memories, but of course it didn’t.

She loved him. She loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone. She didn’t know what to do with all this love. She was drowning in it, but the only thing that scared her about that was…

Well. Nik wasn’t there to drown in it with her.

Aria stared at her hands for a moment and realised they were shaking. Then she crawled across the bed, picked up the phone she’d thrown, and called Jen.

“Hey, love. What’s up?”

“Do you trust me?” The question sounded abrupt and slightly rough, a little too urgent, but that was okay. It reflected the way she felt right now.

There was a slight pause before Jen laughed, “Well, good morning! Of course I trust you.”

“Even though I…” No. Aria stopped, shaking her head. She wasn’t going to ask about Simon. Jen had told her the answer often enough, and it was time to start believing in it.

Even if she had to fake it before she genuinely reached that point.

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