Page 6 of It's Not All Fake

She looks stunned by my question, falling silent.

“There are no photos of you with a partner,” I press, glancing around the room. “So, what happened to you?” I challenge her.

She swallows hard. I see her mood change as a crease forms between her eyebrows.

“How am I supposed to take advice from someone who hasn’t been successful at love?” I continue, a defensive anger gripping me. “Your own methods don’t work for you?” I scoff, searching her expression for an answer.

She is motionless. Then I notice her eyes glistening. “Excuse me,” she whispers, quickly standing up and leaving the office.

Oh, fuck. I scrub my face in my hands.

I am such an asshole.

“Chloe—” I jump up and run out after her.

She’s already down the stairs and outside the building by the time I catch up with her.

The night air is warm, and a salty breeze is blowing in from the dark ocean. Chloe is standing on the sidewalk near a bike rack, her back to me. Her long brown hair is waving in the wind.

“Chloe,” I say as I get close.

She spins around and shakes her head. “I’m fine, Liam.” Her cheeks are rosy and damp. Her long eyelashes are also glistening wet.

I can tell she’s about to give me some lame excuse for running outside. I reach out and grip her shoulders gently to stop her.

“I was a dick,” I say earnestly. “I’m sorry.”

I feel her shoulders drop as she releases a breath she was holding, letting her guard down. She wipes away a leftover tear and nods.

“You were a giant dick.” I notice a small smile creeping onto her face. She is lovely as she looks up at me, my hands still holding onto her. The moment suddenly feels intimate, and I imagine kissing her.

But the thought is completely inappropriate. I quickly dismiss it.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat and drop my arms to my sides, standing up straighter. “I guess that’s why I’m seeing you.”

“Giant dicks are my specialty,” she agrees but then twists up her face in horror, realizing how that sounds.

I chuckle. “Alright, coach, shall we go back upstairs?” I meant to change the subject, but my question sounds more suggestive than I intend.

She laughs nervously. “No, that’s all for today. See you next week.” She gives me a small smile and brushes past me. I’m speechless as I watch her walk back inside the office building.

After she disappears, I check my watch. We only spent thirty minutes of the allotted hour together.

But, somehow, she got under my skin.

I absolutely cannot let that happen again.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHLOE

“Ifucking cried in front of him,” I groan.

Ashley starts laughing. She’s been my best friend since high school when I first moved to Los Angeles and, as a social worker, she’s in a similar helping profession. Unfortunately, I swear she uses up all her empathy on consoling her clients, leaving none left for moments like this.

I give her a look. “Can you at least pretend to be concerned?” I take a sip of my mimosa and look out at the Venice boardwalk. We managed to snag an outdoor table despite the brunch crowd and have a prime view of rows of colorful paintings on display and musicians setting up.

“Oh, Chloe.” She smiles, flipping her curly blonde hair behind her shoulder. “You gave him a demonstration on how to be vulnerable.” She shrugs and rubs her hands together in delight as the waiter sets food down on the table.

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