Page 11 of Fake Dating Adrian Hunter
“Have Tory and Phoebe approved this?”
Stacy gives me a sympathetic look that I suspect is fake. “I don’t want to bother them with something so trivial. Josh and I know each other well. We’d like to pair up. Nia and Sukhi are good friends too. We thought it would be easier this way, instead of one of us dancing with you, who we don’t know at all.”
Great. I’ll be doing a couple's dance on my own, in front of everyone. You’d think the bridal party would all raise their hand to dance with a celebrity, but not this crowd.
“So, Tory asked me to organize a bachelorette party for her,” I say. “I was thinking—”
“Oh, Nia and I have taken care of that. We’ve hired strippers. The only thing you need to worry about are the bridal dresses.”
I don’t know what I did to cause this cold manner from these two women. Perhaps they saw something they didn’t like about me in the media. Maybe they’re annoyed that I haven’t helped with the wedding planning. Whatever the reason, this is Tory’s wedding, and it would be nice for us to all get along.
“I’d like to contribute something,” I tell them. “At least let me dress the bridal party for the bachelorette party. I have seven suitcases full of clothes because I don’t know how to travel lightly. Everyone can pick one of my designs to wear. You two ladies will look fabulous.”
Stacy giggles, pressing her fingertips to her lips. “That’s very kind of you, Valery, but you’re a larger size than the rest of us.”
Ouch. Her reply stings like a slap in the face. I have curves but I’m not that much bigger than the rest of the bridal party. And does Stacy not realize I can alter the dresses to fit everyone?
“My name is Verena,” I correct when words catch up with me, but Stacy has already stepped away from me, calling after her husband. Nia leaves without a goodbye.
That about sums up how the rest of my interactions with the guests at this welcome dinner go. People are adamant to talk to me, yet not one of them exchanges back-and-forth conversation. They’re all speaking at me, instead of to me, determined to prove how great their life is, like we’re in some rivalry. I bet Darius and Zac would tell me to take it as a compliment, but that’s hard to do when these people are supposed to be my tribe.
On my first chance of freedom, I slink past all the guests and head for the bar.
A young bartender looks up at me halfway through mixing a drink. She pauses, turning as still as a statue. When time catches up to her, she breaks out in a luminous smile. “Holy shit. Verena Valentine. The boss warned all staff that this is a top secret wedding and I now see why. You’re probably sick of people approaching you, but I can’t pass up the chance to tell you how much I love your show.”
I relax onto a bar stool. “Finally, a true friend at this wedding.”
“You are my biggest inspiration. Watching you is my happy place. And I don’t mean to sound creepy or anything, but I love you and Darius. The two of you have this perfect dynamic and are so funny. I feel like you guys are my best friends.”
“Thank you so much. I love meeting fans. Can I share a secret with you?” I lean in and whisper when she nods eagerly. “I’m a total fish out of water at this wedding. Do you mind if I hide out at the bar for a while? Talk to me so no one else does?”
Her eyes widen with delight. “This is like the best thing that has ever happened to me. And secondly, major case of déjà vu. A guy just said those same words to me.” She points over her shoulder.
I only notice now that the bar is circular, and that she’s referring to Adrian, who’s sitting far across the other side with his eyes already on me. He’s alone, which is a surprise. It’s so unlike him to be missing out on all the attention. He raises a wine glass and nods at me.
I glare in response and turn back to the bartender. “Can I ask your name?”
“It’s Samaya.”
“Beautiful name. Do you know the ingredients for Smurf Piss?”
“The shot?”
I draw cash from my purse and hand it over. “Listen, Samaya, could you be a darling and send that man a shot of Smurf Piss? Tell him it’s courtesy of Verena.”
She gets to work, laughing to herself. I spin around on my chair and face the guests so Adrian doesn’t catch sight of my wicked grin. And that’s when I see it—the man walking toward me. The man who broke my heart six months ago by accidentally falling over and slipping his dick into a model.
The background chatter and clinking of wine glasses fades out of existence and is replaced by the blaring sound of my heartbeat hammering in my ears. Either that, or my body has picked the worst time to come down with a case of tinnitus.
How can Jake be here? This isn’t happening.Howcan this be happening?
A more important question is why do all the jackasses from my past have to look so incredible? I’m convinced they do it on purpose to spite me. Jake’s grown a thin layer of dark stubble along his jaw that gives him a rugged look, and his hair is now long enough for fingers to knot through it when kissing him. I love a man in a fitted suit; not once did Jake ever wear one when we were together, but now, what do you know, he looks amazing in one with it hugging his muscles. Then there’s that smile on his lips that always melted me, tugging up in one corner. His dark eyes bore into me as he approaches, like he’s missed me or something.
Reality still hasn’t sunken in. Jake is at my sister’s wedding, grinning at me even after the terrible way we ended. The real question is—do I want Jake to be happy to see me?
Sure. I’ve spent months thinking about the dreaded day when we would meet again. The visions played out in a similar pattern to how I imagined Adrian and I would meet—with me looking sexy AF and him drowning in misery over how much he messed up. Instead, the Adrian situation ended with me falling flat on my ass and flashing my G-string. With Jake, I’m alone at a bar with frizzy hair. I’m not sure which scenario is worse.
I thought Adrian was hard enough to deal with, but Jake? Seeing him iswayharder when my wounds are still fresh from the cheating.
