Page 40 of Siren's Game

It's where I store my stuff whenever I'm here because I don't like a cluttered master bedroom, but since I'm not sure if she'll stay over tonight or go home, I guess I should be prepared for either scenario.

I can't help but keep the door ajar, though. The melody she’s creating is already so catchy, so sure to get stuck in my head for the foreseeable future.

I love hearing her tinkering with the instrument, her soft voice creating a different melody over the guitar as I sort my clothes into the wardrobe.

Half an hour in, my phone chimes with a message from Sven, letting me know that we’re in the clear and nobody found out where I live.

I should let her know she can go home. Actually, I should drive her home. But I can't bear to disturb her. The thought of stopping this soft background tinkering almost physically hurts me.

Walking into the hallway, I glance into my living room. Kayla is hunched over several papers scattered around her, tapping the pen against her lips as she hums a melody I know.

What is it?

I watch her jot something down, never stopping the humming and I finally recognize it. ‘Can’t help falling in love.’

Fuck.

I don’t think she’s humming it consciously, but I retreat quietly, my heart pounding and thoughts whirring.

Sitting down on the guest bed, I rub my hand over my face, pinching the bridge of my nose between my eyes. What the fuck is happening?

She was supposed to be a game, a farce, not. . . real.

But she is very real.Tooreal.

She took over my thoughts like a storm and she doesn’t even know it. She was supposed to be a way to distract the media from Luca and Millie, someone else I can annoy. Getting attached was not part of the plan.

And she was supposed to hate me. But it doesn't seem like she detests me that much anymore either. I catch her looking at me from the corners of her eyes. I catch her little smile when I call her ‘Sweetheart’ even though she pretends to dislike it.

This is a clusterfuck. I should have paid more attention to those fake dating romance novels I saw when I researched examples for rules. Maybe fictional people are better at separating a fake relationship from their feelings.

Goddamn, I’m an actor. Ishouldbe able to separate this whole thing from my real emotions. Maybe the whole fake dating concept just doesn’t work in real life.

I get back up and put the last pile of clothes into the wardrobe, throwing it into a panel before shutting the door to keep it from falling out again.

Finally, the guest room is as tidy as it's going to get, and I realize that she has stopped playing the guitar. Instead, I hear her talking.

Curious, I return to the living room to find her on the phone, her eyes darting over to me as soon as I enter and a look I can't decipher on her face.

"Of course, when are you arriving?" she asks, her eyebrows scrunching up. "Alright. Yeah, of course, I'd love to meet up." A short moment of silence as she listens to whoever is on the other end of the line. "Josh, I don't think you should stay over with what's going on."

She chuckles, bursting into laughter at what Josh is replying.

"Yeah, just let me know where you'll be staying. Talk to you soon." She lowers the phone and ends the call.

"Who is Josh?" I ask her, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms, fully aware that I sound more jealous than I have any right being.

"My . . . friend," she answers, her voice going softer at the word 'friend,' making it sound like a question.

"Ah, a benefit one?"

"Yeah. He's coming to Philly with his brother and has asked to hang out."

"Is that code for fucking?" The question is over my lips before I even realize, and I quickly bite my lips. Way to go, Asher.

"What?" Her eyes narrow, her gaze turning furious. "If I meant 'fucking,' I would have said 'fucking,'" she says loudly, her voice cold like an icicle as she gets up and begins to gather up all the papers. "I think it's time for me to go home."

Yep. I blew it.

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