Page 94 of Faker
He shakes his head no, then kisses me. “I’m not into PDA,” he finally says with labored breath. “But I’d be into doing this in the stairwell at work.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “First thing Monday morning, we’re sneaking away and doing exactly this.”
I lean the front of my pelvis against him. There’s a rock-hard bulge protruding from his pants that I don’t need to see toappreciate. I wonder if we’ll be one of those work couples whose productivity suffers because we’re too busy fooling around in the supply closet. I hope so.
I roll my head, my hair bunching up against the metal. I’m still restrained by his thick arms and his powerful lower half. When I close my eyes, his hands drop to the backs of my thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts me up and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist. I’m still bracing my back against the locker. One of his hands runs roughly through my hair while the other strokes the side of my neck. We’re locked in a stare once again. All I see is gray against a cloud of creamy white.
The way he easily keeps me pinned against this random locker is an unexpected turn-on for me. His muscled body exists as a result of impressive amounts of physical activity, and this is the reward. I squeeze my legs around him tighter. It’s more than just physical attraction though. It’s contentment, the feeling of safety. It’s the knowledge that I’ve never felt more at home with anyone than when I’m in Tate’s arms. It’s enough to make me explode right here in this dimly lit hallway of lockers.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say between long, sloppy kisses. I’m clutching his face between my hands. My tan fingers pop against the whiteness of his complexion. I adore how beautifully our skin contrasts.
He nods before lowering me down slowly, my back sliding along the locker. I kick my feet to the ground and steady myself. There’s an echo of laughter at the far end of the hall, and we turn in unison. A handful of people glance at us but continue walking.
“Good thing we stopped when we did.” He pulls at his belt. “That would have been awkward.”
I nod toward his crotch. “Are you going to be okay walking out of here or do you need a minute?”
He looks down and laughs softly. “Nothing a simple waistband tuck can’t fix.”
I laugh, the sharp sound ricocheting between the metal walls.
“Let’s say bye to Natalie and Brendan. Then we can get the hell out of here and head to my place,” he says.
I follow him back into the gym, smoothing my hair down to make myself presentable. We spot them standing and chatting on the far side.
The cake table comes into my line of view, and I pull on Tate’s sleeve. “One more slice. I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”
“Hurry back, or I’ll have to come looking for you.” He leaves me with a playful wink.
A dozen untouched squares sit on paper plates. I can’t believe more people haven’t eaten this delicious lemon crème concoction. I polish off once piece, then eye another. Tate can wait an extra minute; this cake is just too damn good.
I’m two bites in when a woman just a few feet away catches my attention. I freeze. Long, dark hair. Catlike brown eyes. Small button nose. Full lips. A similar tan shade covers her skin. This complete stranger looks almost exactly like me.
Despite there being a half dozen people between us, I zero in on only her. It’s like a magnet has captured my stare. We’re similar in stature and facial features—we’re even both wearing black dresses—but it’s not a long-lost identical twin situation. This stranger and I could pass for sisters, though. She’s objectively prettier than me. And her makeup is tidier than mine too. The cat-eye she managed to pull off is more polished than my rushed smoky eye. She’s a bit less curvy, and I think she might be an inch or two shorter, but it’s hard to say given she’s wearing wedges.
She turns, and all I can see is her back. Jaclyn races to her side,and the two hug. When a break in the music hits, I can hear Jaclyn speaking.
“You should see the girl Tate’s with,” she says, her unblinking eyes fixed on my doppelgänger. “She looks just like you, Camille. I mean, you two split up years ago. It’s so creepy.”
The last word is barely out of her mouth before everything clicks. It’s like a puzzle is being solved in my brain at lightning speed.
My look-alike, Camille, is Tate’s ex. Why didn’t he tell me she would be here?
Now I know why he rejected me when we met face-to-face all those months ago, why he spoke those biting words his first week of work, words I was never meant to hear. Because I bear a striking resemblance to the woman who broke his heart.
Jaclyn turns away to speak to someone else, and a familiar figure cuts in. Tate’s broad, pale form saunters up behind her, a smile on his face. And then it happens.
Tate’s hand on her arm, his fingers caressing her skin. He leans closer, pressing his lips to her cheek.
Then his mouth is on her mouth.
An invisible vise clamps around my chest, making it impossible to breathe. My hand rises from my side to the neckline of my dress, the thud of my heartbeat shaking my palm.
I fall back, hitting the cake table with my ass. I catch myself before falling, but the whine of the metal legs dragging against the gym floor causes everyone in the immediate vicinity to spin around and stare. Normally, I’d be mortified at nearly collapsing in front of several dozen people, but right now I don’t care. Nothing matters now that I’ve seen my boyfriend kiss his ex right in front of me.
I heave a breath and choke. If I stay in this gym a second longer, I will either vomit or scream.
The smattering of voices around me turns to muffled ringing. Every particle in my body seizes, and my throat begins to constrict. My sole focus is the bright red exit sign, my only escape.
