Page 14 of The Fantasy League
SCARLETT
Crazy.
I was crazy for even slightly considering taking up Abel on the offer of being his girlfriend.
I practically stormed out of his house mumbling that I needed to sleep on it before I could give him an answer. He yelled back at me as I walked out to take as long as I needed, but I ignored him and kept walking.
Ugh, I knew I couldn’t dwell on this forever though. I needed to give him an answer sooner rather than later, that way he could look for someone else if I wasn’t going to go through with it.
Hmm, I wondered if he would offer the house to someone else if I didn’t accept.
The entire situation felt like a fever dream. One minute I was trying to work up the nerve to quit my job and the next I was being offered a fourteen-million-dollar house—scratch that—mansion.
What. The. Holy. Hell.
What I couldn’t wrap my head around though, was why he asked me, of all people, to go along with his little fake girlfriend charade.
I’d seen the comments on his Socialgram posts before—not that I stalked him often or anything—and there were hundreds if not thousands of women who would divorce their husbands or give up their firstborn for the chance at one date with the guy.
I shook my head side to side while I made my way through the pool house and settled onto the couch. My brain pounded while I replayed Abel's and my conversation over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it.
Of all the days he could have shocked me by asking me to be his girlfriend, why did it have to be the day that I had a massive hangover?
I sank deeper into the couch, trying to ward off the bile that was rising in my throat. After a few minutes my stomach settled, but my brain still swirled with the idea of accepting Abel’s offer.
Jesus Christ, I was obviously still drunk if I was seriously considering this. There was no way I would if I was sober. I angrily pulled up the hunter-green blanket that sat at my feet and threw it over my body.
I needed a freaking nap.
The blanket was fuzzy and smelled like the lavender soap I used on laundry day which soothed my worriment. I curled up into its warmth and my eyes quickly fluttered closed, sending me off into a deep sleep.
Four hours later, I peeled an eyelid open and gasped as I was met with a face hovering four inches over mine. Shrieking, I scrambled out from underneath the blanket and headbutted Mae in the forehead before realizing it was her.
We both moaned, falling back onto the couch. I slapped a hand to my forehead and applied pressure to help ease the pain, though I’m sure it was more of a placebo than anything.
“You have to stop headbutting me every time I surprise you or we’re both going to end up in the hospital with traumatic brain injuries before long.” A bright-red circle, the size of a golf ball, began to form on her forehead and I was confident that I had one to match.
“You were asking for it being that close to my face while I was sleeping. You know I hate surprises!” I flailed my arms at her, exasperated. “What were you doing anyway?”
“Oh, Scar, don’t be mad. I like watching you sleep sometimes. You look so cute and peaceful. Much different from when you’re awake…” she snarled at me. “When you’re sleeping, I just want to squeeze your little cheeks.”
Mae pinched her pointer finger and thumb together and I let her have at it with pinching my face. Somewhere between being hungover, half-asleep, and borderline concussed, all of my cares had been thrown out the window.
“Plus, I came over to hear the details of your rage quit with Mr. Tight End and to offer you a job as my new head chef.” Mae gave me a cocky smile.
“One, I’m not taking a job from you. Two, I didn’t quit.” Her eyes grew wide at my second statement, but her jaw dropped when I spit out the third. “Three, Abel asked me to be his girlfriend.”
The two of us stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Our twin telepathy sparked telling me she was trying to figure out whether or not I was telling the truth, so I shook my head up and down to signal the answer to her unspoken question.
Mae gasped before jumping up from the couch and pumping a fist in the air. “I have to call Lea and tell her that I won! She owes me a hundred bucks!” She let out a loud holler and ran a victory lap around the living room.
They placed a bet on me? Bitches, both of them.
“Lea told me about the new PR rule for the Matrix and we placed a bet on whether or not Abel would grow some balls and finally ask you out. And I won!” She did another victory lap around the room for good measure before tackling me on the couch.
“What do you mean ‘finally’?” I scoffed, arching a brow at her.
“Scarlett. The guy has a crush on you. It’s painfully obvious.”
