Page 7 of Fake Dating Adrian Hunter
“Use the Dior fragrance I gave you for your birthday,” Darius says. “You’ll have everyone kneeling at your feet.”
“I wantAdriankneeling at my feet.He’sthe pathetic one. I can’t believe I let him walk all over me like that.”
“What about all the insults we devised?”
“You guys devised insults?” Zac asks. “That kind ofispathetic. And yet, I feel left out.”
I give Zac the finger. “Not insults. We created a list of defensive replies because that’s how dire this situation is. But I can’t remember a single one of them when I look at Adrian. You guys, Adrian is beautiful. He’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen in my life.”
Darius nods at Zac. “More gorgeous than Mr. Heartthrob over here?”
Despite the miserable side of Zac we always see, when he steps into the public eye, he knows how to turn on the charm. All the ladies and teen girls swoon for him. We met two years back on my show when my manager hired him to give me singing lessons. He’d just finished a movie adaptation of this hot new musical and I would have jumped him myself if we’d both been single.
“Adrian is a hundred times more gorgeous than Zac,” I tell them. “I’m in serious trouble. Look, Darius, just say you’ll come to Australia. I’m freaking out. In all the years we’ve known each other, when have you seen me freak out?”
“Only that time you were confined to the bathroom after mistakenly eating gluten at your fashion show in—”
“Jesus Christ. I think I’ve made my point. Adrian is my weakness. I’ll do anything to get you here. Accommodation will be free, and you guys won’t have to fly commercial. I’ll send my private jet back to New York this very second.”
“I’m sold,” Zac says. “If I can track down Penny.”
“Verena—”
“No, Darius. Don’t make me be a bitch and demand it of you as your boss.” I’m running a straightening iron through my hair now because what the heck is with the humidity in Australia? “Whoever suggested this wedding take place in a tropical location is a fucking idiot.”
“I believe that was you,” Darius says. The sewing machine hums as he glides fabric beneath the needle.
“Well, I’m a fucking idiot. Look how frizzy my hair is.”
“Yeah, it’s not great,” Zac agrees.
I glare at Zac and he shuts up. “Okay, Darius, think of this as a business trip. Or that I’m paying you to take a vacation. How could you turn down the Whitsundays?” I pick up my phone and flash it around the bungalow, giving Darius a mini tour of the resort’s luxury. “You’ll be in paradise. All you have to do is come here and be moral support. I’ll organize for Sarah to run the office.”
Darius lets out a huff of air. “If I arrive at that resort, all the guests will think we’re dating.”
He has a point. Rumors spread that we’re secretly dating ever since my show aired an episode of Darius and me attending our weekly Latin dance class. The dance we were learning together was steamy, I’ll give them that. There was a lot of ass grabbing, hips rubbing against each other, and heated eye contact. But for us, everyone’s accusations of our romance are laughable, considering Darius is gay. I suppose they assume he’s straight because he doesn’t fall into the typical stereotypes of a gay man. He’s made the decision to conceal his sexuality from the public, and I’m happy to keep the secret with him if that’s what he wants.
I’ve lost count of how many times someone onTMZhas commented on our relationship, saying,You can’t fake that kind of chemistry. It doesn’t help that the two of us are joined at the hip, on and off the show, or that we have countless fan sites dedicated to the shipping of Darena. Or as I prefer to call us: Varius. No matter how many statements we’ve issued to the public about only being friends, they never believe us.
But… hang on a second.
“Darius, you’re a genius! All the guestswillthink we’re together. Adrian won’t bother meandhe’ll be annoyed that I’m succeeding in life with a new boyfriend.”
“This is messed up.”
Zac pats him on the shoulder. “Totally messed up, but you live for drama.”
“I do,” Darius agrees.
“Come on,” I beg. “Please. Say yes.”
Darius continues sewing. “My Middle Eastern hair will hate the humidity as much as yours.”
“So? We’ll suffer together.”
I know I’ve won when Darius leans back in his chair and sighs. “You’re doing all of this because of Adrian Hunter?”
“Yes!” The word bursts from my throat so loud I’m sure my bodyguards in the next bungalow can hear.
