Page 71 of Fake It 'til You Make It

This isn’t real, I remind myself.You can’t miss what you don’t have.

I glance across the street to Andrew, who’s walking hand in hand with his girlfriend but his focus is most certainly on Mike and me. Andrew holds up a hand in hello and for some obscure reason, I return his wave. Mike’s jaw clenches, in response to my reaction, I think, and who could blame him; I’m mad at myself for being polite.

‘Looks like your plan to make him jealous is working,’ Mike says, tugging me closer to him.

I guess he’s hating on cheaters as much as I am of late. I want to tell him that I’m not simply trying to make Andrew jealous, I’m just trying to not look like a girl who thought she had everything one day then had nothing the next.

But neither of these sentiments leave my mouth because I’m still dumbfounded by my body’s reaction to his touch. By my irrational and momentary lapse in judgment, because I really did want him to be making a move.

Neither of us are in the market for that.

29

TED

Last night was… What was last night? Not how I thought it would be? Spontaneous. Unexpected. Head messing.

It started out as a learning meet up – I’ve been so busy with meetings, trying to learn all the things about Vanguard that I’ve previously left to Roman, and Abbey has been pulling long hours filming, so we haven’t had much time for Abbey to learn about Mike. Me, as Mike, learning about Abbey.

It was intended to be a homework session. Friendly. An arrangement. A favor in return for a favor.

Only at some point, it felt like I was getting to know Abbey. Me, not Mike. And I liked it. I like her. Increasingly. I just don’t know in what way.

I tried to give her as much insight into me as possible. I suppose I was testing the water at times, seeing what kind of guy she’s really into. Even though sensibility tells me the actress wants the ball player. The king to her queen.

So why am I curious? I don’t know. I kept asking myself that too – what game am I playing?

Because I know I can’t fall for her and it wouldn’t be fair to let her fall for me.

She doesn’t know who I really am. And though I wanted so many times to expose my true identity last night, I couldn’t. I can’t. I’m too deep in the lie.

We fly to Canadatomorrow.

But there’s a very real part of me that’s… confused. That needs to be reined in.

I was desperate to touch her all night. Lying next to her on our movie blanket made me feel like a teenager with his first infatuation. It was torture.

Then Andrew appeared and it was bittersweet. A reminder that she isn’t looking for a new guy and I am so far from being datable or wanting to dip my toe in that ice water again. I’m not even sure that Fleur considers me unequivocally out of a relationship right now.

But finally getting to touch Abbey, to feel the shape of her against me, to nuzzle into her neck and breathe in her heady mix of subtle perfume and outdoors, that was sweet. Too sweet.

For one thing, anything I might be feeling, even if I will admit to anything, is not reciprocated. For all I know, I might just be having some kind of existential crisis, or rebound lust or whatever.

It really doesn’t feel like it. It feels… No, I won’t let myself make more of this.

In any event, if Abbey did give any sign that she might have more than companionable feelings toward me, I need to remember that they aren’t actually for me, they’re for Mike. I’m Mike to her. That’s who she thinks I am and who she wants me to be, even if it is all fake.

It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who is so like me in so many ways. When she isn’t in stuck-up actress mode, she’s a bit nerdy, she likes space and numbers, exercises mostly because she needs to in order to stay healthy, comfort eats, which goes back to the needing to stay healthy thing, would rather be outdoors than anywhere else, finds arrogance off-putting, hates showiness.

I may have put words into her mouth with some of those descriptors, but the point is there are times when I feel like we get each other. And that’s without mentioning the biggest thing we have in common of late, which is that we both just ended serious relationships because our other halves did the dirty on us.

I’ll add one more thing about Abbey, then I’m putting these thoughts to bed for the day, with zero innuendo intended.

I can’t help wondering what would have happened if we had met under different circumstances. If we had met first. Before Andrew. Before Fleur. Before I became Mike. Because I think possibly, maybe, we’d have been a good fit.

It’s Tuesday morning and I should be ecstatic because I am finally getting out of New York, bound for Canada with Abbey, but in my latest moment of self-doubt, I’ve turned to one person I know, without a shadow of doubt, I can truly rely on.

My brother is literally guffawing down the line. Despite the wind blowing around him, loud through his cell phone as he jogs along Ocean Beach, I can hear the depth of his amusement.

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