Page 27 of Siren's Game

I chuckle when I read the way she curses me out. Asshat. It almost rhymes with my name.

Asher: I’m sorry. Btw my parents want to meet you.

"Actress": . . .

I just know that if she were standing in front of me, I would get a glare that would make me shrink into myself. No more 'he's taller than her', I'd be half my current size, squirming under her furious gaze.

Why does that sound kind of hot, though?

My phone starts buzzing in my hand and I roll my shoulders in an attempt to shake off that last thought.

"Hello, Sweetheart."

"Don't fucking 'Sweetheart' me." Kayla sighs the most annoyed sounding sigh I’ve ever heard, and I hear her walk up and down her room. "Have you talked to your manager? Does anyone know this isn’t real?"

"No, I haven't talked to Van yet," I say and start doing the same, beginning to walk circles around my couch. I can’t say it helps me concentrate, but it’s kind of fun. "Should I?"

"Not yet, please." She sounds distracted and exhausted. Guilt begins gnawing at me. "So, I guess we're not getting out of this." It's not a question, it's a statement. And she's right.

"I fear not."

"Come over tomorrow evening," she demands, accompanied by another heavy sigh. "If we do this, we need to make up some rules. And set a deadline, because I'm certainly not doing this any longer than I need to. Not a word to Luca or Millie, though. If Millie knows I’m fake-dating for her, she won't have it and then this will be for nothing."

"Alright," I tell her and stop in my tracks, laying my head back and breathing out a relieved sigh while my eyes dance over the ceiling. "We also need a story of how we met and everything. I actually wasn't joking when I said my parents want to meet you."

"Fuck," she groans, making me chuckle. "I was hoping you were. This is going to be a fucking disaster."

"My parents aren't that bad, I promise." I can’t help but chuckle.

"Well, I'm bad with parents," she answers snippily, and I freeze. God, it seems like with her I'm putting my foot in my mouth with each word I speak. "I'll let you know when I'm off tomorrow. Millie's here now, I'll text you later."

And then the line is dead.

Rules, she says. What kind of rules do you even have in a fake relationship?

I take out my phone to research, but the only thing popping up are romance novels.

Can't someone just give me a quick synopsis? Some kind of manual for this type of thing if it’s apparently to common in fictional stories?

I'll have another look later. If Millie has arrived, Luca should also be here soon, and I’m very curious about what the two of them did before we arrived and after we left.

So I grab my keys from the dresser and leave my apartment only wearing socks, planting myself right in front of Luca's door and pushing all thoughts about Kayla and this stupid situation aside.

We'll talk tomorrow. Until then, I will put on a happy face and tease my best friend about his new beau.

Why am I suddenly so nervous?

I'm standing in front of the skyscraper housing Millie's and Kayla's apartment, looking up the fancy glass front, a bouquet in my one hand, pizza in the other. I figured, since this whole situation is kind of, well, actually completely my fault, I'd try to lift her mood with some flowers and food.

Women like that, right?

My mom was all too happy to throw a bouquet together. Going off my description of her, she made it in fiery colors, laughing as she explained to me that the orange lilies she used, while inappropriate for a wedding for their hateful meaning, can also mean passion.

It’s a bit mean considering I’m the one who threw the first stone, but I figured that's a nice, subtle dig at her to include. And she won’t even know it.

Who would have thought that I'd get into Victorian flower language?

I made her exchange the deep red roses for peachy and yellow ones, though; those just seemed too romantic. I don't want Kayla to get a wrong idea.

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