Page 19 of Play Fake
“We’re not… I mean we’re… it’s new. Very new…” I trail off. I hate the idea of lying to her, but I also hate the idea of revealing I’m so thin-skinned over this breakup I had to bring a fake boyfriend along for the ride. One I actually can’t stand.
“Yes, well, I hope to get details later. After the set, we’ll have a drink and you guys can fill me in on all the juicy details! In the meantime, I have to run and get set up.”
“You’ll do awesome. Can’t wait!” I smile at her and give her one more quick hug of encouragement.
“See you after!” She waves and takes off, bouncing her way through the crowd and then backstage.
“Sounds like she might have some questions about your upgrade.” Waylon raises his eyebrow at me in amusement.
I roll my eyes in return and take a sip of my whiskey sour to keep from saying something snarky.
“Sure you don’t want to revisit details?” He leans in closer to me and I get a whiff of his cologne and close my eyes.
“I told her it was new.” I shrug.
“So, how did we meet?”
I’m curious why he won’t let this particular bone go. Does it really matter how we met? The actual story isn’t very charming.
“You’re a friend of a friend of a friend.”
“And when did you know you were attracted to me?”
I glare at him. The truth is, the first time I laid eyes on him, not that I’d admit it. It was strange because most men have to grow on me. Even my crush on Ezra had taken months to develop, and that boy was pretty with a capital P. Instant attraction is not in my wheelhouse. I like charm. I like intelligence. And then this incredibly attractive football player who has the body of a man who spends every day in the gym opened his mouth and implied I was fat. It stung like hell, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that little tidbit.
“When I saw you half naked.” I lie instead.
His lips curve in a half smile. “Oh yeah?”
I hate the way he looks so pleased with himself.
“I mean, that’s the most believable story, isn’t it? Most women like looking at tattoos and muscles.” I take another sip of my whiskey, pretending to be interested in the changing of equipment on the stage. I can feel his eyes on me, studying me.
“And you don’t?” He asks skeptically.
“Tattoos absolutely. Muscles, eh. Can give or take. They’re usually attached to someone with an ego so massive it kills any attraction I might have had otherwise.”
“I see.” He’s still watching me, and it makes me want to squirm.
“When did you first realize you were attracted to me?” I ask the question as though I’m distracted.
“The first time I saw you. You were so fucking pretty in the little black dress you were wearing. It took my breath away.”
I feel my heart bottom out into my stomach, fluttering there for a moment before I get control over it again. I was wearing a black dress that day. I remember because it was one of my favorites. One I thought made my curves look good, which is why his little fat joke had landed so hard on me. I had shoved it to the back of my closet after that.
I glance at him surreptitiously. He’s staring at the stage, distracted by something there. I realize I’m being silly. He’s making something up, just like I did. Something that sounds good.
His brow furrows, and I follow his line of sight to the stage and my heart that had been fluttering and dancing in my chest falls entirely flat as I see Ezra, crouched down, guitar in his lap, talking to her.
He reaches down, and she places a hand on either side of his face, planting a kiss on him that’s long and drawn out. One that looks like they can barely stand to be away from each other. They look good together. Like they fit. Like they’ve always been meant to be together, and I was just an awkward mistake along the way to their perfect coupledom.
I bite my lower lip hard when I feel a burn in the back of my throat, the kind that immediately precedes tears.
“Hey,” Waylon’s voice is low and soft as he bends over close to me, his fingers gently brush my waist in reassurance. “You okay?”
I clear my throat and take a quick sip of my drink. “Fine.”
“If you change your mind and want to leave, just say the word. Your friend knows you showed up for her.”
