Page 39 of Perfectly Faked

“Well, then it’s about time someone did,” I say, keeping my voice steady even though I can’t stand to see her cry. If there’s one thing I can’t take, it’s a woman in tears. Seeing her hopes and dreams die all over her face... it’s not something I ever want to witness again.

“I’ve always believed in you,” I murmur. “Remember what I told you the first time we met?You don’t just skate.You made me forget the world existed.” She smiles softly, the tears still shining in her eyes, and my heart feels like it’s been torn to shreds. “I think the world needs to see that, too.”

“But I don’t understand,” she says, shaking her head. “Why do you want to help me now?”

“Just because our relationship didn’t work before doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or your dreams.” I reach for her shoulder, and she doesn’t shrink back this time. My fingers slip across her skin. It feels like silk, and I wonder what it would belike to slide my hand along the curve of her neck, to tease the corner of her jaw, cup her face, and...

Stop.She’s still someone I can’t be with—not likethat. I need to keep my thoughts in the friend zone if this is going to work. At least, until I can find someone to replace me—a guy whoknowshow to figure skate.

“Does this mean I have to be nice to you?” she asks, biting back a smile.

“Nope. But you do have to let me into your world, and that meanstryingto be friends—even if you’d rather put me out of work with that knee kick of yours.”

She winces. “Sorry about that.”

“Not as sorry as I am for dropping you.”

She smiles, and for one glorious second, it feels like I’ve turned the clock back. Her lips curve, making her mouth look so kissable my heart thunders like a kick drum. I’m completely lost in the moment—until her phone dings with a message. She glances at the screen, her brow creasing. “It’s my neighbor, Delilah. Can you take me back to my apartment?”

“As long as this isn’t some elaborate scheme to get out of your homework.”

Her face flicks up to mine. “It’s not. My neighbor has an emergency.” She reaches in her backseat, grabbing her bag, then heads to my car. “Her parrot is in trouble.”

“Excuse me?” I stop in the middle of the parking lot. “Did you just say that her bird has an emergency?”

She throws me an exasperated look over her shoulder, like I’m the crazy one here. “Of course I did.” Then she tosses her stuff in my car. “Big Bertha is her emotional support parrot with the potty mouth. Don’t you remember me mentioning him?”

I blink. “Big Bertha is . . . aboy?”

“Yes, but don’t mention it in front of him. Delilah thought he was a girl when she inherited the parrot from another tenantat Bellgate. She’s terrible about overfeeding him snacks, but he’s her only companion, and she’ll have heart palpitations if anything happens to him.”

“So you’re afraid I’ll offend abird?” I say, frowning.

“Bertha can get really touchy when he’s insulted.” She hops in the passenger seat and buckles herself in. “Now, hurry up. Bertha can’t wait all day.”

I shake my head in wonder. I have women lined up in my DM’s wanting to go out with me, and this woman is making me hurry for her neighbor’s obese parrot.Who have I even become?

We head to Bellgate Apartments, with Victoria frantically texting updates. “Big Bertha escaped out the window again, and Delilah lives on the third floor. He’s sitting on the ledge, and there’s no way I’m letting Delilah attempt to capture him.”

I look over at Victoria. “Well, maybe it’s time for Big Bertha to learn a lesson about sneaking out of the house.”

She frowns. “Well, I’m not letting Delilah down. Big Bertha is all she has. I’ll save him myself if I have to.”

“Youabsolutelywill not risk your life for a bird.”

“Why not? I’m a skater—I have great balance.”

I shake my head. “No way am I letting you near that window.”

“Leo, Delilah is in her seventies. She shouldn’t be climbing on window ledges.”

“Then I will,” I say, already regretting the words as they leave my mouth. I hate parrots. And heights. Clearly, I’m a glutton for punishment.

Her eyebrows fly up. “You’d save Big Bertha?”

“Not because I want to,” I grumble. “I’m notthatnice.”

Her smile widens. “Sloan was right. Youdohave a heart under there.”

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