Page 28 of Faking Ties

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “About the kiss. I know I overstepped, but I saw Jax coming and I just”—she looks at the floor and swallows hard—“I wanted to make him jealous.”

A sickening feeling twists in my gut. I just had the best kiss of my life, and Stella only did it to make her ex jealous. Of course she did. That’s why I’m here, after all. Forcing a smile to my face, I say, “I don’t mind. That’s part of our agreement, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She frowns and twists her navy bracelet again. “Come on, let’s go find our seats and boo at the most inappropriate parts.”

“Sure,” I say absentmindedly, reminding myself that this is a business arrangement. Nothing more. It doesn’t matter that she brings out a side of me I didn’teven know existed, or that caring for her feels too natural.

I’m playing with fire here, but that doesn’t stop me from taking her hand in mine and enjoying every second with her that I can before going back to training camp.

ELODIE

After being poor for the last many years, I thought I’d love the luxury in Evren Kaya’s mansion in Skyrise City. And sure, it’s extraordinary, but also intimidating.

The high-tech features throughout are impressive. Apparently, every room is climate controlled for humidity, temperature, and scent. How do you even set that up? How does it work? Because the lemon scent in the living room reminds me of my mom’s lemon crinkle cookies.

I should’ve made those instead of the chai ones Hunter’s carrying for me. I baked too many, hundreds too many, but there are hundreds of people here and I couldn’t show up empty-handed. That’s just bad manners.

It also helps that baking is a stress reliever for me. Well, baking and running are, but bootcamp’s ruinedrunning. Over the past couple days, I’ve been focusing on baking the cookies in preparation for today, all to avoid thinking about my first show that’s in less than a week. I’m petrified, or whatever word would be a billion times worse than petrified.That’swhat I’m feeling.

I try to grab the massive tray of cookies from Hunter, but he pulls them away from me. He’s been carrying them for me since he saw me wince while walking down the stairs of Stella’s private plane. I lied and said the tray was heavy, but really my body hates me. Bootcamp is still hell. Not on the level of passing-out hell since Stella talked to Rachel, but still brutal. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk normally ever again. My feet are full of blisters, and my body is a ball of pain. Stella must be an Olympian to do what she does, and no matter how hopeful I am, I fear I’m going to pass out or throw up in the middle of her show.

“You’re not carrying it,” Hunter insists. “We’ve gone over this.”

“Right. You’re my glorified purse and holder of all things.”

“Exactly. I have pockets and you don’t.” He gives me a lazy once-over. From my high ponytail to my lavender, A-line summer dress that hits me at the knees. He brushes his knuckles across my waist. “See?”

“See what?” I tug at the pocket of his sky-blue pants. He looks hot with his white shirt tucked into the waist. “That women’s clothes are misogynistic?”

“They are,” he agrees. I glance at him in surprise, and he shrugs. “What? Surprised I agree?” I nod and he grins. “I don’t mind being your purse.”

“But Evren is right there.” I try to take the cookies yet again and point toward the man himself near the kitchen with a beer in hand. Everything about him screams money. From his light gray pants to his loafers and white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Come on, let’s go say hi and impress him.”

“Or, instead, we could go outside and avoid him all together?”

I glance at the backyard that’s not a yard at all but looks more like a summer festival instead of a simple team BBQ. There are multiple rides, bars, food trucks, grills manned by chefs, and a band.

I stare at it in awe, impressed for about two point five seconds before I realize how ridiculous I was to bring cookies. Of course, Evren would have the event catered. What the hell was I thinking? I was being myself and not Stella. Stella would never bring food to a catered event. I need to get rid of these cookies ASAP before I make a fool of myself.

“Actually,” I say, looking around the massive living room. “Good idea. Let’s hide the cookies behind a couch and go outside.”

“What?” Hunter gives me a confused look.

“Is the couch too obvious?” I think on it for a second and nod. “You’re right. Where do you think we should ditch them? In a bush perhaps?”

“Why would we ditch them? You brought them.”

“Yeah, I did. To acatered event. I don’t know what I was thinking, and now I need your help to get rid of the evidence.” I rock back on my tennis shoes, my anxiety skyrocketing by the second. What if someone comes by and asks questions? Can I pawn them off on Hunter? Pretend like he made them? I should’ve added this as a clause to this fake relationship—that he takes the blame for any stupid things I do.

“They can add these to a table.” Hunter chuckles. “There’s no need to ditch them. I’ll even set one up for you.”

“No, that’s silly. I need to get rid of them.” I glance up and stiffen. “Oh shit. Evren is walking over here right now. The couch! Put them behind the couch!” I whisper-shout.

Hunter takes a step away from me, but not toward the couch. No, he steps toward Evren.What the hell is he doing?

“Stella brought cookies for you,” Hunter says, handing them to Evren. That traitor.

At least he didn’t say I made them, because I’m far too embarrassed to admit that I spent days baking them for a catered event. Nina’s never going to let me live this down when I tell her about this. Mom was wrong; bringing something to a party isn’t the nice thing to do. From now on, I’m going to just show up empty-handed. Raw dog it.

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