Page 26 of Faking All the Way
“Thanks for letting me vent about my career stuff. I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk about it.”
“That’s what fake girlfriends are for, right?” she says with a grin.
I laugh despite my mood. “If that’s true, you’re setting the bar pretty high for fake girlfriends everywhere.”
I head back to the guest house, carrying a few staples for my tiny kitchen and mulling over our conversation.
Honestly, I feel a whole hell of a lot better than I did when I first got back. The frustration and anxiety that’s been eating at me since Brody’s call has faded to something manageable. Not gone, but not consuming my every thought either.
Chapter Eleven
Kat
Later in the afternoon, I’m pouring my favorite caramel creamer into my second cup of coffee, needing the extra pick-me-up after a morning of sketching that didn’t go quite the way I wanted, when my phone buzzes with a text from Samantha.
SAMANTHA: About to head out on a shoot, but I’m dying to know what you meant by “strange development.” Spill. And don’t give me some vague bullshit answer.
I stare at the message, debating how much to admit. Part of me is dying to tell someone the truth about this whole fake boyfriend situation, but how do I even begin to explain it without sounding completely unhinged?
Hey, remember how I was dreading coming home because of my ex? Well, funny story, I accidentally acquired a fake boyfriend who happens to be a professional hockey player and looks like he stepped off the cover of a magazine.
But this is Sam. We’ve been best friends since elementary school art class, when she used to steal my good erasers andI’d retaliate by mixing her paint colors together into muddy brown disasters. If anyone’s going to understand why running into Daniel and his perfect new fiancée at the airport made me temporarily lose my mind and do something this impulsive, it’s her.
I quickly do an internet search for Asher’s name and scroll through images until I find a good one—a Philadelphia Strikers promotional shot where he’s looking right at the camera, his dark hair perfectly tousled and a serious look on his face. I screenshot it and send it to her.
ME: This man is currently staying in the guest house.
I stare at the message for a second, then type out another one before I can chicken out.
ME: Oh, and also, everyone thinks he’s my boyfriend.
I know I probably won’t get a response for a while since she’s heading out on her photo shoot, but my heart races a little now that my friend will know the truth. I’m dying to talk to her about it, to get her perspective on this whole bizarre situation I’ve found myself in.
I take my coffee to the window and look outside, noticing it’s started snowing. Just light flakes drifting down like something out of a holiday movie, but it’s so festive and cozy that it puts me right into Christmas spirit. The snow catches the afternoon light, making everything look soft and magical.
I look around the cabin, remembering how festive it used to look around the holidays when Sam and I would come here to spend time with her grandparents when we were kids. Sam’s parents have since moved to Florida for the warmer weather, but I can still picture how magical this place looked with Christmas decorations up. Twinkling lights in every window, garlanddraped along the mantle, and always a huge tree in the corner that seemed to take up half the living room.
On a whim, I decide to get a small Christmas tree for the cabin. Since I’ll be here for a few weeks, I might as well make it feel like home. Besides, the place looks a little sad without any holiday cheer, and I’ve always been someone who goes all out for Christmas.
I grab my keys and coat, and head outside. The cold air hits my face immediately, crisp and clean in the way that only happens when it’s snowing. As I’m walking toward my car, Asher comes out of the guest house, and we almost bump into each other on the path between the buildings.
“Hey,” I say, pulling my coat tighter around me. “What are you up to?”
“Just grabbing some stuff I left in the car,” he says, holding up a small drugstore bag. “I forgot I had some toiletries in there. Figured I should actually bring them inside before they freeze.” He pauses, studying my face. “What about you? You look like you’re on a mission.”
“I’m going to get a Christmas tree,” I tell him, gesturing with my chin toward my car. “I know it’s probably silly since I’m just borrowing the place, but…”
“That doesn’t sound silly at all.”
I almost ask him to come with me but hesitate, not wanting to impose. He’s already done so much to help me out with this whole fake relationship thing, and I don’t want him to feel obligated to participate in every little domestic activity I decide to undertake.
Before I can get to my car, he stops me. “Kat.”
I turn around, surprised by something in his tone.
“Want some company?” he asks. “I could help you get it onto your car. Those things can be heavier than they look.”
Butterflies take off in my stomach, and I nod. “Sure. I could definitely use the help.”
