Page 55 of Chasing After You
It was enough to make me forget fighting with my parents, everything with Bailey, the conversation I had with Chris, and whatever that was with Quinn at the stadium. Well, I guess I forgot until Henry’s mother called. Then reality came rushing back, and I ran.
“I know, but I keep asking myself how much of it was real, and how much was for the cameras?” I groan, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. As much as I wanted to kiss him in the club, I was there when Stacey warned us that people were starting to get skeptical about us dating. I know why he kissed me.
I checked online earlier to see if anyone had taken any pictures of us, and based on the comment sections, no one was questioning anything after seeing them.
My old teammates from the Olympics texted me to ask if Henry knocking me up was the real reason I wasn’t competing in the next Games, and I laughed before quickly denying it.
Stacey gave me a pat on the back at work today, which is as good of a compliment as I can expect from her.
“Shut up.” Emily scoffs, throwing a shirt at my face.
“What was that for?” I ask, laughing.
“Because you’re questioning something that is so obvious.”
Obvious. I still hate that word.
“It’s complicated,” I say, throwing the shirt back to her.
Emily crosses her arms over her chest, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. “Mirabelle, this pity party is not cute. You have Henry right where you want him. I’ve seen how he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. Why don’t you ask him if this little fake arrangement you’re in can turn into a real, permanent one?”
“Em, I love you, but I think you’re imagining things.” I pull my phone out, checking to see if Bailey responded to the text I sent earlier, but there’s nothing there. I shoot JJ a quick message, asking if he’s had better luck hearing back from Bailey.
A different phone is shoved in my face, and I blink quickly, focusing on the screen. It’s a picture from last night, capturing the moment Henry snapped the strap of my corset against my skin. It was taken behind me, so my face isn’t visible, but the way Henry is staring at me in it sends shivers up my spine.
“Does this look like a man that is faking things? I’ve met Henry. He’s not this good at acting,” she exclaims, and Emily has a point, but it’s so much more complicated than she’s making it out to be.
If he says no, how am I supposed to face him after that? And with everything going on in my life with my parents and Bailey, should I even be focused on a guy right now?
Henry’s not some guy, though. He’stheguy.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, glancing at my computer screen before shutting it. I’m not getting any work done right now, but I should have enough time after my morning run to finish it then.
“You’re Mirabelle fucking Walker. I know Reid fucked with your self-confidence when it comes to dating, which is only one of the reasons I still think you should have let me take a baseball bat to his windshield, but you’re a catch. You’re smart, absolutely hilarious, and you have a heart of gold,” Emily says, sitting next to me on the bed.
“I’m all that, but not pretty?” I tease, and she rolls her dark eyes.
“You and I both know you stare at yourself enough in the mirror to know how beautiful you are, but if you need to hear me say it, you’re so freaking pretty that a picture of you should be hanging in the Louvre.”
“I love you,” I say, laughing quietly as I reach to squeeze her hand.
“Damn right you do,” Emily says, smiling. “You deserve a man who would hang the moon and the stars for you, and the way Henry’s looking at you in all of these photos, tells me that he would do that and more.”
My eyes begin to water, and I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop it.
“Besides, Mira, worst case scenario, if Henry doesn’t like you, it’s his loss, and then you should go out with Quinn.”
Oh god. I can’t even imagine that.
“Let’s not even speak that into existence,” I say, dragging my hands over my face. I feel bad, but I’ve definitely been avoiding Quinn since he told me he had feelings for me. It didn’t seem like he was too bummed about it last night at the club based on how far his tongue was stuck down that girl’s throat.
“So are you going to go talk to Henry?” she asks, and it sounds like a truly awful idea.
“Do I have a choice?” I ask, despite already knowing what Emily’s answer is going to be.
She grins and shakes her head. “Nope, but if you want your ego stroked, you should take off that sweatshirt and let him see how good your boobs look in what you’re wearing underneath.”
I look at her like she’s dumb. “Em, I’m literally not wearing anything underneath.”
