Page 58 of Fake It 'til You Make It

It’s an abrupt segue and it feels like the question hangs awkwardly between us for a beat longer than it ought to. Maybe she’s suspicious?

Then she smiles and tells me, ‘Actually, I started filming for a new series on Monday. It’s a sort of family drama but with vampires. I, erm, don’t have a starring role but the production hasa really good cast. I also get to work with my sister, and it’s being filmed in Central Park for the next week or so, which is great because it means I don’t have to go away. I’m kind of a home bird. I like my own space and my own things.’

‘But you’re from Canada. If you love home so much, how come you’re in New York?’

She does it again, takes a pause before she answers. And just when I think she’s about to, she shifts her attention to the TV. ‘Ooh, here we go. I love this detective. He’s done loads of these documentaries.’

At some point, I get lost in the documentary and forget the need to make conversation. Abbey and I just watch the show in companionable silence. It’s… nice. Really nice. I can’t remember the last time I hung out with someone like this. Easy. Relaxed.

Between episodes one and two, Abbey refills our snacks and when she returns to the sofa, she sits much closer to me, tugging a blanket from the back of the sofa and laying it over our legs.

I never did make the end of episode two. I fell into a remarkably peaceful slumber.

Until I awoke under a blanket on the sofa, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. By my watch, it wasn’t even 2a.m. and my mind started wandering, spiraling.

I don’t want to spend another day with Fleur. Speaking to me as if this is the same as every other time she’s broken us off then changed her mind and come crawling back. And I’ve taken it, every time.

Not this time.

But insomnia has also proved to me that I am an emotional train wreck. I’m vulnerable to her.

On top of that, I have no idea what’s going on with Roman and I’m for sure not ready to take him on, too.

I’ve laid still as long as I can but I absolutely have to go to the toilet. It’s around 6a.m. The sun is up. Abbey isn’t.

In the bathroom, the sight of the man I catch in the mirror is ghastly. There’s no denying that I look and feel like crap – pale skin everywhere except the darkness under my eyes.

Where I was wound up a few hours ago, awake with conflicting thoughts, now I feel sluggish and confused about what comes next with Fleur, Roman and Vanguard.

After splashing my face with cold water, I step into the corridor, only to be near bowled off my feet. ‘Whoa.’

Abbey presses two hands to my chest. She has one sneaker on and would be stumbling toward the ground but for me blocking her fall as she tries to move and put the other shoe on at the same time.

‘Yikes, sorry.’ She straightens herself and the canvas bag that has fallen from her shoulder. ‘I should be on set by now.’ She starts walking backward in the direction of the apartment door as she speaks, a little disheveled-looking, like she’s literally just jumped out of bed and grabbed the first clothes she could lay her hands on. Not in the way I look like hell but sort of sweetly dopey. ‘I’m blaming you, by the way. I’m never late. Never. You kept me up way past my bedtime.’

‘I fell asleep! And I’m not accepting blame for your failure to set an alarm, Fluffy Boots.’

She points at me, I think mock cross, but keeps walking backward. ‘Gotta run. No time to put you back in your box.’

Ha.I hold up a hand. ‘It’s been real,’ I call to her.

She stills and I realize I’m smiling at her – remarkable this morning.

‘Wait. How are you doing? Are you okay?’

Despite her clearly calamitous start to the day, she still asks if I’m okay.

I shrug. Rather than give my usual token response, along the lines ofI’m well thanks, and you?I tell her, ‘Spent the night asking myself what I did so wrong, amongst a million other questions, like am I doing the right thing not taking her back, knowing I can’t.’

Abbey sighs, her shoulders sagging, and I remember why I usually go with a standard response. Then she runs back to me, places her hands on my shoulders, bounces up to her tip toes and kisses my cheek. ‘You’ve got this. Some people are just shitty humans. You are not one of them.’

I’m too startled to reply. The feel of her lips was light and soft, and it lingers on my skin.

‘If the world is too much, you can stay and hide in my apartment. Or you’re welcome any time to come and watch my sister in action; she’s awesome.’

‘Or you.’

‘Right. Yep. Or me. Ha.’ Then she’s gone, running forward until she’s out of sight.

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