Page 75 of The Fantasy League
“You know it wasn’t real, don’t you?” I questioned. She hadn’t outright said it, but part of me always figured she knew.
“I guessed. I might’ve accidentally been the one who gave him the fake dating idea, but I hoped I was wrong,” she admitted and sadness clouded her face. “Scarlett, there’s something else you might want to know… I don’t know why the article didn’t mention it, but if you zoom in closely on the photos… she’s wearing an engagement ring.”
Jesus Christ.
I couldn’t catch a fucking break, could I?
“Oh,” I managed. Which was all I really had to say anyway. It wasn’t like I could change it, no matter how badly I wanted to. “I’ll be okay, I promise. It was all just a publicity stunt anyway, wasn’t it?” I smiled cheekily at the screen before ending the call.
The screen went black and my smile fell almost as much as my heart did.
* * *
For the firsthour after I hung up with Lea, I drank the bottom-shelf tequila from my cabinet without a shot glass or chaser, reread the article at least a dozen times, and printed out the photos so that I could analyze them closer.
She was, in fact, wearing an engagement ring.
There was no denying that.
Once I was good and thoroughly intoxicated, I did what any scorned woman would do… I left my “ex” an overly dramatic voice mail where I spilled my heart out as I paced across the bedroom until the only feeling I was left with was numbness.
The voice mail was something to the tune of, “Hi Abel, it’s Scarlett. Yourfakegirlfriend. In case you couldn’t tell from my voice, there was a heavy emphasis on the word fake. Because that’s what we were, right? Fake. What was this whole thing between us anyway? A fun game called The Fantasy League? Maybe that was your plan all along… trying out different girlfriends until you found one that stuck.” I didn’t hide the disgust in my voice as I spit out each word. “That’s low, really fucking low.”
I paused my rant to take a few deep breaths.
“And what’s even lower…” I picked back up again. “…aside from your spot in Hell, was thatyouletmebelieve that there was something more to this.Youtook me to your favorite restaurant. You’re the one who came to my house during a storm becauseyouwanted me to be safe. You even hired me a private chef, goddammit.” My voice began to crack as I held back a sob, pain seeped with every word. “Youinvited me to Malibu and planned a movie date under the stars. Yet, I’m the idiot for believing that maybe,just maybe, if I let my walls down that you could love me too.”
I hung up the phone and threw it across the room, hoping that it would break, unfortunately for me, I had bad aim and it landed on a pile of clothes in the corner instead. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I dropped my face into my hands while Abel’s empty words sounded inside my head.
You’re mine, you know that?
Please, Red. I want you there.
Every word I said was the truth, Red.
I’m going to kiss you now.
You’re fucking stuck with me, Red.
Stay with me?
No, Red. The first time I come with you, my cock is going to be deep inside your pussy.
Stop overthinking this, Red. I want you. I want us. For as long as you’ll fucking have me. The only way this ends is if you say it does, got it?
Well, at least one thing was obvious. My new least favorite color was red.
No matter how hard I sucked in big gulps of air and expelled them from my lungs, I felt like my chest was going to collapse. I pushed myself off of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, picking up my phone on the way, in case my stomach decided to evict the tequila I’d consumed.
Everything hurt.
It hurt because his face was the one I wanted to see sitting across the table every morning at breakfast. It hurt because his hand was the one I wanted resting on my thigh during every car ride. It hurt because his mouth was the one I wanted pressed against mine with every kiss.
It hurt because I wanted him.
So, I gave in. Letting the hot tears flow down my cheeks while I curled into a ball on the cool bathroom tile. Somewhere between sobs, I managed to send Mae one measly text begging her to come to the pool house.
I didn’t tell her why or what happened, but it wasn’t like I could manage to type much anyway with a phone screen blurred by tears.
