Page 21 of Not My Fault

EMILY: yay! Can’t wait to meet them!

ME: sorry in advance if they fangirl over you

EMILY: I’d be offended if they didn’t

ME:

EMILY: are we still good for tomorrow?

ME: yup. What time?

EMILY: what time r u done with work?

ME: uh 7? 7:30?

EMILY: let’s do dinner @ 8

EMILY: I’ll pick u up

ME: I don’t mind meeting you there

EMILY: no! It’s a date! I’m picking you up

ME: as long as I don’t have to wear a dress

EMILY: damn, I thought we’d wear matching sparkly ones

ME: you are on your own there, babe

EMILY: are you flirting with me?

ME: of course

Emily and I make a point not to talk about the fact that this is fake over text. We know how easily our phones or social media can be hacked. The last thing we need is a scandal because we sent a text to the wrong person. But sometimes I forget I don’tneedto flirt with her, it just sort of comes out naturally. Like this sort of banter we did back and forth. I call her babe, I send those flirty emojis, and I call her mine. It just seems normal, and it isn’t something she’s ever brought up when we were together, so I guess it’s fine. It’s not like there are rules on how to be someone’s fake partner. And it isn’t exactly something I can google. Can people hack what famous people google? It seems likely.

I’m not nervous about dinner tomorrow night; I was actually looking forward to it. I don’t know where we are going, but I figure it’s easier to let Emily pick. She has dietary restrictions, and she knows if and where media might be. I’m in it for the free food and the company. She insists on paying for dinner, even though it goes against everything I stand for. But she claims it comes out of the company’s budget, not hers, so that makes me feel a little bit better.

ELEVEN

Emily

The driver is outside my place before I’m ready, so I ask Georgie to tell them I need five minutes. I’m putting on my mascara and the finishing touches on my lips, plus I still need to put my shoes on.

“Damn, you look hot,” Georgie says.

“Thanks. We’re going to this fancy steak place uptown, so I want to look nice,” I explain.

“Gus won’t be able to keep their hands off you, for real.”

“Nah, they don’t think of me that way.”

“Psssh, okay.” She chuckles.

“What?” I turn around and raise an eyebrow.

“Every time you’re photographed together, Gus looks at you like they like you. I know you said this is all fake, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re starting to fall for you.” Georgie shrugs.

“I—I do not have time to argue this with you but trust me, it’s all for show.”

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