Page 6 of Faking Ties

“Do you need a lesson in consent?” I ask. “Because I heard her say to leave her alone multiple times and yet you didn’t.” I look briefly at Stella. “Do you want to press charges?”

“Charges?” The guy has the audacity to laugh. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Myex-boyfriend,” Stella stresses. “You’re an ex for a reason, and you’ll definitely be staying that way.”

“You can go now,” I say to the ex, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. “You’re causing a scene.”

The ex glances at the phones pointed our way. He gives me a death glare before saying, “This isn’t over.”

Once he’s gone, I turn to Stella. “Are you sure you don’t want to file a report? He overstepped, ex or not.”

“I’m sure,” she says evenly. “I would thank you, but I’m not sure if you’ll say something to make me want to punch you again. So, let’s just leave it at have a good night.”

She spins away, and I grin at her sass. I can’t keep my gaze off her while she finds her table and sinks into her assigned seat. I stride toward her and pluck the name card from her right, crumple it, and stuff it into my pocket before taking that seat for myself.

Stella looks from the table to my pocket with the name card in it and then to my face. “You don’t look like an Arthur.”

“That’s offensive,” I say in my best Valley-girl voice. “I can totally pull that name off.”

“You can’t,” she says with the same accent. “And offending you was the point.”

I grin. “Aren’t you funny.”

“Oh, I definitely am. But what I want to know is why you, Fake Arthur, want to sit next to me.”

“Because you’re hot?”

“Ahh, I get it now.” She nods once as if she’s having an internal monologue about the situation and agreeing with herself.

“Get what?”

“You’re a player.”

“That’s mighty presumptuous,” I say.

“Am I wrong? If I Googled your name right now, would the headlines be positive?”

“Define positive…”

She laughs, a playful glint to her eye. “Now I must know what your name is.”

“You really don’t know?” I ask, shocked.

“No. Should I?”

“Does Hunter Holt ring any bells?”

“Nope.” She says it easily and whips out her phone. One that’s five generations too old and complete with a cracked screen. The background is a picture of her smiling with her cheek smooshed against a pretty, dark-haired woman with a mischievous smile.

She types something on her phone before scrolling. She hems and haws before letting out a low whistle. “Wow. I think it’s safe to say the media hates you.”

“You know that saying? Don’t believe everything in the news?”

“Oh, I know it well. But I have a feeling it doesn’t apply to you.”

I laugh, loving how feisty she is. How she doesn’t hold back and it’s completely at odds with how I expect her to act. Stella is America’s sweetheart, with her wholesome image, incredible talent, and do-gooder nature. But her sass doesn’t quite match with how I thought she’d act, and I can’t help but be curious aboutthe real her. Because the glimpses I’m getting? They’re addictive.

“Do you like football?” I ask, trying to take the heat off my reputation. One I’ve never cared about until now. Until I’m trying to impress Stella fucking Wilde for the night.

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