Page 27 of Faking It

“So? I’m sure she’s been fucked before.”

I ward him off with an outstretched hand. “After being MIA all week, do you expect me to open like a flower for you? Youreallyhave some nerve.”

“Okay.” Logan claps his hands. “You want an explanation.”

“What I want is to get ready in peace. That’s it.”

He glances over at the dress I’d lain on the bed earlier. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere that concerns you,” I reply, stepping into my panties.

“Like hell, it doesn’t,” he growls. “You are my woman. What you do is my business.”

Anger flares inside me as I unwrap the towel. “You know, it’s pretty annoying how you only use that term when it suits you.”

“I’m using that term because it’s true. You are my woman.”

“Yeah, right.”

I step into the thigh-high dress, then pull the crisscross straps over my shoulders. A glance in the mirror makes me cringe. I look like a Vegas showgirl, minus the feathers and sparkle. I’m already counting down the hours to peeling this off my body. Dressing skimpy for the club is one thing, but wearing this for work, it’s too much. Or too little. Whichever. Not that it matters. I need the coins.

Thankful for my natural loose curls, I drag the brush through it.

Then notice Logan has gone silent.

I turn and see him leaning against the door to the bathroom, hands tucked in his pocket, head bowed. A pitiful sight. I put the brush down. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s been a rough week, Ana,” he mumbles, still staring at the floor. “I came here needing some comfort, only to find you getting ready for a night on the town.” He lifts sad eyes to look at me. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

I give him a long, hard stare, unable to believe what I just heard. Is he for real?

“Yeah, I know exactly how that feels,” I snap, my anger breaking its restraint. “I experienced that same emotion last week after getting rejected for a movie role. Logan, I needed you then. Where were you?”

“Working on getting that movie together, babe. I’ve been working for us. Everything I do is for us.” He steps toward me, a pleading expression that almost tugs on my heartstrings.

Almost.

We’ve done this song and dance before, where he gaslights me and plays the victim whenever he screws up. He’s putting on a show, pretending we’re in this together. Yet, from my experience, I know this is a ploy to change my mind from leaving the house.

“What are you doing forus, Logan?” I query.

“Getting this film together, of course.”

“Does that mean I get the starring role?” Hope balloons inside me.

His gaze shifts to the floor, then comes back to me. “Joel and I are still debating over it.”

A sharp pin pricks the balloon of hope. I grab the brush, dragging it through my hair again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It will be yours; I promise. Joel just needs some convincing, that’s all.”

“I don’t understand why that’s necessary. It is your movie.” I meet his gaze in the mirror. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s not that simple. Joel is an investor, too.”

The story keeps changing, but I’m too weary to point that out. “I have a gig tonight, Logan. Leave me alone, so I can get ready.”

Logan snorts. “A gig, wearing that dress?”

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