Page 70 of It's Not All Fake

“Um, no,” I admit.

“Chloe is a total romantic and believes in that kind of love. She needs something real.”

“It’s not all fake,” I argue, feeling defensive.

“That’s not good enough.” Ashley shoots back, her eyes boring into mine. “Because if you’re not sure, you need to figure it out—fast. Chloe deserves someone who’s all in, not someone half-committed to a charade.”

My lips part, ready to speak, but nothing comes out. I don’t have a rebuttal. Somewhere deep down, I know she’s right, but I shut out that voice.

I shake my head, trying to cast aside reasons to question our arrangement.

“I need to talk to her,” I declare. “Where is she?” I glance back toward the bonfire, scanning the crowd, hoping she’s arrived.

But Chloe is nowhere to be seen.

“Just do the right thing,” Ashley pleads, clearly urging me to end it.

I exhale, irritated by her persistence. I don’t want to break it off. I want more blissful days with Chloe. But I don’t want to hurt her either.

I check my phone impatiently, but there are no messages from her. “She’s late. Did she text you?” I ask Ashley.

“No, she said she’d be here by nine,” Ashley frowns at her phone, the digital clock already reading half past. “I’ll see where she’s at.” She taps on her phone screen.

I expect her to call Chloe, but instead, Ashley pulls up an app with a map.

“You can see her location?” I ask, realizing Chloe must have shared her phone location with Ashley.

“Yeah, in case we’re abducted by some creepy guy,” she explains, giving me a pointed look.

I narrow my eyes, surprised that she could think so poorly of me. So much for reassuring Ashley, I think. I recall telling Chloe I could ease Ashley’s mind about our relationship, but her mind seems made up.

Ashley zooms into the map, frowning. “That’s weird,” she mutters. “She’s still at home.”

I mirror Ashley’s frown, confused. Possibilities race through my mind as Ashley puts the phone to her ear, calling Chloe.

I watch with anticipation, but it goes to voicemail after one ring. Ashley’s face sours. “What the hell?” She pulls up her text messages and starts typing out a message to Chloe.

I pull out my own phone, checking again. Still nothing. A sense of unease grows in my gut. Something’s wrong.

“Oh, she’s writing something,” Ashley says, staring down at her phone. I can see the bubbles appear, and every second waiting feels like torture.

Then a message pops up:

Sorry, Ash. I’m not feeling well. I’ll call you tomorrow.

“So weird, it’s not like her,” Ashley says as she types something back.

Chloe had a completely shit day. I wonder if she told Ashley about the ransomware. I was surprised she was still planning to attend the bonfire tonight. I understand her deciding to cancel, but I can’t understand why it’s so last minute. And why I didn’t get a message at all.

As if on cue, my phone vibrates. I open the message:

Liam, I’m so sorry for not texting sooner. I wanted to go tonight, but I’m just not feeling good. Please understand.

“She texted me too,” I tell Ashley.

“Maybe this is her way of giving you a hint,” she suggests as she walks past me toward the bonfire. Her level of disdain is almost comical.

I spin toward her. “I’m not a bad guy, Ashley.”

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