Page 15 of The Fake Dating War

Dates? How does he know about?—

The elevator opens to the parking lot. I’m about to leave when out of nowhere, spots appear before my eyes. I try blinking them away.

“What’s going on?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“None of your business.” I can’t see anything. Everything goes black for a second or maybe more before I come to my senses. Above me is the ceiling. I’m no longer standing, but I’ve also not fallen. Nothing in my body throbs with any kind of injury.

Soap. That’s the first thing I smell. Lovely piney notes of masculine cologne. That’s when I realize there’s a hard chest cradling my body. Coleman didn’t let me hit the ground. He caught me and then held on. His knees are scuffing on the concrete floor, and his bag is haphazardly thrown to the side. Strong arms wrap firmly around me.

I can tell he’s trying hard not to shake me, but his grip tightens. “Patel?”

I don’t answer him. I grab the front of his shirt and struggle to hoist myself higher. My head shakes. Thankfully, there are no more dots swimming in my vision. Still, a frightened pinch is warning enough inside me. It could have been so much worse. What if I had been on the road and fainted? Or in the middle of a crosswalk? I need food and rest right away!

“Hold on, I have you,” he says.

His arm goes underneath the crook of my knees. He’s getting back on his feet… lifting me…

“What?” I shriek. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of here. There’s a doctor, or, better yet, a hospital close by?—”

“Stop that!” I fidget in his arms. “Let me down!”

He doesn’t listen to me. He doesn’t even care about his bag spilled on the ground. It’s left behind as he carries me out of the elevator, the doors closing on it. By the time we’re halfway down the parking lot, I’ve come fully to my senses. I pinch his shoulder. It has no give. Of course it doesn’t. “Howdo you have time to work out like this?”

He looks down at me, clearly confused. I take that opportunity to go back in and this time I pinch the part of his neck that meets his shoulderhard.

Instinctively, his grip loosens, and I’m able to push myself out of his arms. It’s not particularly athletic, and with the outfit I have on today, I’m an oversized, fuzzy creature tumbling away.

“For fuck’s sake, Patel,” he snarls, staring at me. “What is wrong with you?”

I’m on my feet, dusting myself off. “This can’t be the first time someone has chosen to go unconscious in your presence.”

His jaw tightens. He steps forward.

I step back.

He stands there, frozen. His hands go palm-side up as if he’s trying to convince me he’s not a threat.

“See you tomorrow,” I say, hardening my words with conviction.

“Are you driving?” he asks, demanding to know.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll drive you.”

No. The denial is like a gong inside me. He can’t see where I live.He can’t. Not him.

I force out a laugh. “You’re not supposed to let yourself be taken to a second location, Coleman. Everyone knows that.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets…. and he looks pissed. “Come on, Patel.”

“You can watch me walk away in a straight line.” Before he can argue, I turn around. My pace is brisk, and I don’t look back to see if he’s following or not. Straight into my car, I go. There is a granola bar waiting on the passenger seat. I tear the wrapper open and shove the food into my mouth. My body cries with relief at the fuel. If I could, I’d eat a whole bread loaf right now and bliss out.

When I look up, I see Coleman. He’s come to stand in front of my car. His arms are crossed, but I also see something an awful lot like concern pass over his face. There is a muscle in his jaw jumping out. Is he worried he might be blamed? That someone will think he pushed me to the ground? I roll down my window, ready to tell him to go away, but he speaks first.

“Reema.”

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