Page 86 of Fake As Puck
“Sorry,” he says, pushing the door open and holding it for me. “These things never work on the first try.”
“No problem.”
I step into the room, and my heart does something complicated.
Two beds. Just like we booked. Just like we planned.
So why does seeing them side by side make my chest feel tight?
“Nice room,” I say, because I need to say something.
“Yeah. Good view.”
I walk over to the window and look out at the ocean, dark now except for the moonlight reflecting off the waves. During the day,this would probably be stunning. Right now, it just looks vast and mysterious and slightly overwhelming.
Kind of like everything else about this weekend.
“I’m going to change,” I announce, grabbing my overnight bag.
“Yeah. Me too.”
In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror while I wash off my makeup.
My cheeks are flushed from the champagne, from the dancing, from the conversation that got interrupted. I can’t stop replaying it in my head.
This was never fake for me.
It just felt like the timing was never right.
I’ve dated girl after girl. None of them ever compared.
What am I supposed to do now?
What am I supposed to do with the way he looked at me when he said it, like he was confessing something that scared him?
What am I supposed to do with the fact that when he said it, I wanted to kiss him so badly I had to physically step back?
I change into my silk shorts and a matching camisole pajama that I literally only packed to entice him.
I give myself a stern look in the mirror. I need to keep it together. He’s paying me. Don’t get this confused because he was also right, he lives states away, and my parents need me. I can’t date someone who doesn’t live nearby. This is getting too complicated already.
I brush my teeth and try to psych myself up for whatever awkward conversation we’re about to have about sleeping arrangements and boundaries and all the things we should have discussed before we ended up alone in a hotel room together.
When I open the bathroom door, West is sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the window, scrolling through his phone. He’s changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and his hair is messed up like he ran his hands through it.
He looks up when he hears the door, and his eyes do a quick scan of my pajamas before meeting mine.
He pauses. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to notice.
Shit, this is too sexy, isn’t it? Suddenly I’m self-conscious. Suddenly, it feels like I’m still playing a façade, putting on a show. The real Liv would not be wearing this right now. Would I wear this around my house for fun? No.
And he knows it. That look is written all over his face.
“All yours,” I say, nodding toward the bathroom.
“Thanks.”
He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water turn on. I settle onto the other bed and try to focus on checking my phone, but all I can think about is the way he looked at me just now.
