Page 27 of The Pretender

He rubs his jaw casually, as if he has all day to grate on my nerves. “All you have to do is tell me what you learned.”

It’s finally reached the point of loathing.

Sighing, I pray for patience and look up at the ceiling, before leveling him with a look. As bored as I can manage, I state the stupid facts that I’m impressed he spelled correctly when he wrote them. “There are two million burglaries a year which translates to a burglary once every thirteen seconds.” I roll my eyes. “Happy now?”

He pushes off the wall and leans into my personal space, forcing me to endure that organic smell of cedar. “Wrong. It was two point five million break-ins a year. And you, sweetheart, need to be more mindful of that. Just because Daddy pays for your posh little townhouse doesn’t mean your neighbors are decent.”

“Clearly,” I mutter. “Now, hand them over.”

When the smuggest grin emerges on his face, I know this little shitshow of torture isn’t over.

“I’ll offer you an exchange,” he says, his eyes dancing with delight. He loves torturing me.

I sigh. I’m not getting out of this. No matter what I say or do to him, he will continue to taunt me until he gets his way. “Your keys…” He dangles the words out as bait.

“I’m listening.”

“For my pillow and eight weeks of playing my girlfriend.”

I choke on a gasp.

“Are you high?”

“Sober as a nun.”

“Why the hell would I want to pretend to be your girlfriend? And why in the fresh hell would I subject myself to it for eight weeks, even if I was stupid enough to agree?”

Sebastian pulls his phone out between us and opens the MyView app.

“I don’t have time for this, Sebastian. Give me my keys and we can negotiate the pillow and chair later.” I add my chair to the mix because he’s giving that back, even if I have to pry it from his cold, dead hands. “I don’t need to be subjected to your MyView escapades.”

Really, I have been tortured enough the past couple of days.

I fold my arms and then I hear it. My voice. “What the hell are you watching?”

Sebastian holds the phone out of my reach and starts rattling off random comments. “Holy shit! They’re back! I’ve missed seeing their videos.”

I scrunch my face. “What video?” I wasn’t shooting a video at the party and neither was he. I’m not allowed since Drew and Fenn can’t seem to behave. Fenn is one more suspension away from expulsion from the baseball team. He doesn’t need any more bad publicity than he already has.

“Aww! He’s jealous! That’s so sweet. I want a man who gets pissed if I wear a bikini. OMG! Are they together? It looks like he was about to kick that guy’s ass! Swoon alert.”

I jump for his phone, and he holds it out of my reach and says, “Apparently, someone at the party shot this video of us and posted it. Now there’s a rumor floating around that we might be an item.” He grins. “Or at least a couple who are currently fighting.”

I pretend to gag, and he ignores me. “You don’t have to believe me. Just look at your subscribers. I got a thousand overnight.”

Don’t do it, Vee. It’s a trick, an elaborate prank, just so he can get back at you.

“It doesn’t matter what the internet thinks. We aren’t an item, nor will we ever be.”

He’s quick to respond. “Agreed but seeing how your video is disqualified and mine needs…” he grimaces, “—help. Neither of us is going to win the competition. Stupid Malcolm with his copied ideas is going to beat us in our own house.”

I level Sebastian with a flat look. “The internet isn’t our house.”

“Yes, it is. Our videos ruled the top ten page of MyView’s best videos for an entire semester. Are we really going to let Malcolm take that from us?”

I throw my hands in the air, so done with all of this. “Sebastian, I’m tired, and honestly, I don’t care about the contest or Malcolm or you. All I want is my keys and my chair that you stole.”

It was a bad morning. Aspen’s words at the party kept me tossing and turning all night. She doesn’t understand what this is right here. This drama and constant back and forth. This isn’t love. It’s a friendship that went bad.

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