Page 50 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

My mock boyfriend holds up a hand, palm facing his brother, signaling to wait.

“Okay, sweetheart, it’s showtime.”

Ethan taps his phone, going live. “What’s up, Ethan Addicts! I know you’ve been waiting for this. We got some high-flying aquatic action.” He turns to me with a wink. “Any last words, babe?”

“I hate this. I hate this. I hate this!” I slur the words together.

He wears a devilish grin as he turns back to the livestream. “She’s having the time of her life, folks. She just doesn’t know it yet!”

I glance at the phone screen—within seconds, the viewer count shoots up into the tens of thousands. Viewer hearts and comments fly by faster than my rising blood pressure, with a blur of emoji vomit.

Ethan starts greeting his adoring fans. “Well, hello there, Gail!”

Gail.Even her name tastes bitter on my tongue like I’ve licked the bottom of a public trash can. I can picture her smug face now, probably glued to her phone—her only lifeline to this obsession.

Ethan chuckles. “Gail's comment says, ‘Ten bucks you chicken out and jump ship, but if you don’t, then she prays for a wardrobe malfunction,’” he teases. “And oh, there’s more, lots more.”

No doubt this girl has her manicured talons poised to spread more venom the second I fail. The psycho lives for this shit, feeding off drama like an emotional vampire.Get a life, lady.

“I’m paraphrasing here,” he continues, “but basically she wants you to drown so hard, even the fish will be saying, ‘Damn, that’s brutal.’”

The rage bubbling inside me is so hot I’m a volcano of “Bitch, please.”Who does this discount store groupie think she is?She could never land someone as hot as Ethan, famous or not.

Oh, Gail. You poor, delusional little gnat. I’m in Florida. Just this morning, I’ve eaten bigger bugs than you for breakfast.

I flash a sugary-sweet smile to the lens. “Be careful what you wish for. If I go down, Ethan goes with me.”

That’s it. I’m turning this tube ride into a middle finger so big it’ll be visible from space.Gail wants a show?I’ll give her a goddamn IMAX experience of her crushed dreams with surround sound and complimentary popcorn.

I wink at the camera teasingly. “First, how about a good luck kiss?”

Then, before my brain can catch up with my body and scream,What the hell are you doing?, I grab Ethan’s face and plant a big ole kiss right on his lips.Take that, Gail. Choke on it.

I pull back, riding high on adrenaline and spite, only to see the shock in his eyes. He wasn’t…

Expecting. Feeling. Or wanting that kiss.

Oh shit.

My stomach drops faster than we’re about to on this death trap.Panic mode: activated.

I channel my inner director and shout at the top of my lungs, "NOLAN!" My thumb shoots up.

Thankfully, Nolan sees my signal and punches the boat into high gear before I die of embarrassment.

We take off in a flash, and I’m pretty sure I see my stomach(and my dignity)back on dry land sipping umbrella drinks and wishing me luck. It’s all I can do to hold on. I’m bobbing up and down, thrashing wildly, and just one jolt away from flying to my death.

“Here comes the jump!” Ethan shouts, pointing ahead with childlike glee. He whoops and hollers like a true adrenaline junkie.

I spot the ramp through the waves just ahead of us.Holy fuck!The thing is taller than a freaking skyscraper.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!”

I’m about to die. Today is the day this attention-obsessed lunatic kills me. I’d pictured my death being somewhat more civilized, like choking on caviar or being crushed by my tower of unread scripts. But no, I’m going to bite it in the freakin’ Gulf of Mexico.

We hit the ramp.

We’re airborne.

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