Page 57 of Fake It 'til You Make It

Is he flirting? No. Surely not. Of course not. But I can’t help the feeling like I have jumping Jelly Beans in my tummy. He’s a pretty hot guy to have flirting with any woman, particularly one who is prone to disaster with men of late.

‘I knew the egotism wasn’t fake,’ I say, though in reality, thinking how decent it was of him to come here and apologize. How truly unexpected. Yes, he misled me but I’ve been fabricating things too, and he actually cares about my opinion of him. ‘Clearly not like that. I have a sofabed in my spare room and you’ll be closer to home in the morning.’

He looks up, as if remembering his ex-girlfriend is above us. Then he glances along my hallway to the bedrooms and back to me. I have no idea what he’s thinking because I’m too busy enjoying the way he’s looking at me. ‘If you’re sure it’s okay.’

Oh boy. That silly fluttering is back in my stomach and it had better disappear because I amnotin the market for a real relationship; I don’t even know who or whatIam right now.

Mikecertainlyisn’t in the market for a relationship, given his most recent one was shambolic.

Nevertheless, it’s nice to have him look at me the way he just did.

23

TED

I guess I’m staying over with Abbey tonight whilst Fleur sleeps upstairs. If I overthink it, it’s weird, and if I don’t, it’s logical. She’s my girlfriend to anyone who’ll believe us and I need a place to sleep. So I’m not overthinking it.

My mind is sufficiently depleted by Fleur for it to sit in this thoughtless void.

Though I knew Roman had asked for two airplane tickets to New York – what happened to him is one of the questions I have for Fleur – I was still shocked to see Fleur standing at my door. Then with her words, seeing her, I went through every feeling from betrayal and fury to longing for my life as it used to be.

I still have feelings for my ex-fiancée. I wish I still had my best friend to talk to about all of this stuff. But what residual feelings I have after their deceit is the part I haven’t worked out yet and what I don’t want to consider anymore tonight.

Seeing Abbey has calmed my mind, even made me laugh, miraculously, and I’m not going to get riled up again.

I can’t replace years of friendship with Rome but I do likehanging with Abbey. I like her influence on my mood. Her quietude.

She has shut down her laptop and agreed not to search the web for information about me – well, Mike. I want to tell her the truth. I almost did. I hate liars and the very last person I want to lie to is Abbey. She flips between spoilt rich girl and the girl next door with ease but I’m starting to think she isn’t like Fleur. I typecast her and I was wary of her, I still am to an extent, but she’s helped me out tonight. She helped me out cleaning Mike’s apartment. And I think I’ve seen a lot more of the girl next door than the uptown girl.

We’re sitting on her sofa, each with a bowl of mixed nuts and a second mug of green tea, both sharing the same side of her U-shaped sofa, facing her wall-mounted television.

‘Sadly, I don’t own a VR machine but I do have Netflix,’ she says, switching on her TV. ‘I’m due a re-watch ofOzark, otherwise it’s true crime?’

‘Either works.’ I feel like I’ll be staring absentmindedly at the screen either way, depleted of mental energy.

‘Helpful input.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Let’s go with true crime. I’ll try to find a homicide. We might pick up some tips on how to kill a cheating ex.’

I scoff. ‘And you asked ifI’ma psychopath?’

‘Lol.’ She drops an almond into her mouth.

‘Abbey, don’t take this the wrong way but you can be a bit weird.’

She laughs so hard, she chokes on her nut. For a very attractive woman with a cool job, she’s a bit of a geek. I should know because it takes one to know one.

Whilst we’re waiting for a documentary about a New York serial killer to start, Abbey pulls her legs beneath her, tells me Iam welcome to put mine up on her coffee table, then asks, ‘How often are you in New York?’

It feels like the question comes from nowhere and it catches me sleeping. The real me is rarely in New York. I come for business every once in a while and sometimes come over for a weekend when my brother is here but, of course, I’m not me. ‘I spend the season in San Francisco, but in the off-season I spend time here. Whilst I’m injured, I can be here more.’

‘Do you prefer New York?’

‘God, no.’ Oops, too severe. ‘I just mean, I love San Francisco. Though I will say, the more time I spend here, the more I realize there’s a laidback aspect to the city. Not just the party life my brother tries to show me.’

She focusses on me intently. ‘You’re a bit of an onion, aren’t you? You seem to revel in your success and not to labor the point but my brief internet search showed you enjoy the sports guy lifestyle. Yet, you weren’t really into the party on Friday night and sometimes,sometimesyou have moments where you actually seem… considered.’

Now I choke on my laughter. Without knowing it, Abbey just summed up this ridiculous double-identity I’m running. If I’m an onion, I have two layers. The first is Mike. The second is me. Even I’m starting to get muddled and trip myself up.

Maybe I should just come clean. But tonight, I don’t have the energy, so I change the topic to something safer. ‘So, you’re an actress. What kind of things do you work on?’

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