Page 50 of Perfectly Faked

The answer is on the tip of my tongue, but it’s too bad my tongue has a fifty-pound weight attached to it. “It’s Wayne... WayneSomebody.”

The timer on the clock buzzes, and Leo looks gut-punched.

Sloan and Jaz groan. “She was half right,” Jaz pleads to Rourke. “It should count!”

As the rest of the table discusses whether I deserve another shot of punishment, I glance over at Leo, whose eyes haven’t left me since I answered.

“How could you not know that one?” he says, looking distressed. “Your dad’s a hockey coach.”

I lean toward him, lowering my voice. “Yeah, well, how could you tell me I was the only one for you and then, a few weeks later, date someone else?”

His eyes widen, and for a second, he looks too shocked to speak. “When did you see me with another girl?”

“In college, a few weeks after we broke up. You thought I didn’t know about her.” I laugh bitterly. “I knew then... those were just words I wanted to believe.”

“We’re not having this conversation now,” he mutters, his lips tightening into a firm line.

“You’re right, we’re not,” I say, scooting my chair back and heading to the women’s bathroom.

“Victoria . . .” Leo calls.

Maybe it’s two half-shots of regret that’s making me walk away now, but I won’t let him see me cry.

I bolt into the restroom, hot tears burning my cheeks as I splash water on my face.I promised myself I’d never tell him that.

My stomach is roiling, but this time it feels like it’s more from Leo than the drinks. I thought I could prove something to him tonight, show him I can be friends with him, but I think I’ve only done the opposite: made myself realize I can’t extinguish this torch for him.

I lock myself in a stall, dropping my head in my hands as another woman takes the stall next to mine.

I blow my nose into the ridiculously thin toilet paper, hoping I can pull myself together before I finish the game.

“You okay over there?” the woman next to me gently asks.

“Not really,” I say before I can pull it back in. It feels comforting to get it off my chest.

“I saw you rush in here and you looked upset,” she says. “Sometimes it helps to share things with someone who doesn’t have a dog in the fight. And I’m definitely more like a peaceful poodle.” She steps out of the stall and I peek through the crack and see her washing her hands. The woman looks like a grandmother—mid-sixties, greying bobbed hair, and a jean jacket with a God Bless America pin on it.

I laugh to myself while blowing my nose again. “Well, I told him something I’d promised myself I would never share.”

“Are you married?”

“Thank goodness, no,” I say, even though I think part of me would be better off if we were. It’d be easier if we just gave in to our feelings rather than constantly pushing each other away.

“I’ve fallen for someone—a hockey player—and even though I really like him, there’s so much history between us. Plus, I’m too stubborn to keep my mouth shut.”

From the crack in the door, I see her head bobbing in agreement. I suddenly get a pang of wanting someone like that in my life, a person who will listen to me instead of tell me what I did wrong, like my mother always does.

“Sounds just like me,” she says. “Too stubborn for my own good.”

“Exactly!” I say, my lips feeling looser than ever. “It doesn’t help that I’m down on my luck.”

“How so?”

“My figure skating partner got injured... it’s kind of a long story.”

I hear her gasp outside the door. “Wait, are you Victoria Jenkins?”

I pause, my whole body tensing.She knows me?The last thing I need is to discuss my personal life with a fan, but I’ve already revealed too much. “Are you going to tell anyone?” I ask weakly. “Because I’d rather we keep this between us.”

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