Page 2 of Play Fake
But I swear I see a flicker of interest in Ben’s eyes, even though I’m far from his type. I know the girls he goes for, and they are almost always blonde, waifish gigglers. I wonder if he’d make an exception, maybe just this once. A sliver of hope runs through my veins at the idea of having someone like Ben for a rebound.
“Oh, shit, what happened?” He points to the beer still dripping off some of my sequins.
“One of your linebackers has trouble walking when he’s drunk,” I shake my head.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. Is there something I can do?”
Yeah. Come upstairs and help me out of this dress.
I open my mouth to reply when one of the seltzer girls chooses that moment to notice him.
“Bennnnnnny boy,” she drawls, “I’ve been looking for you.”
His eyes immediately snag on her, and his smile grows into a self-assured smirk.
“Oh yeah? Well, look no further. Lemme grab something, and we can talk.” He flashes his dimples at her, and the way he saystalkit’s clear zero exceptions will be made for me this evening.
“Whatever you say, Benny.” She brushes her perfectly manicured nails over his arm and gives him doe eyes.
“You sure you’re okay?” His eyes flick back to me because he’s always polite.
“I’m good,” I answer, offering a tight little smile.
He pulls the fridge open and grabs the beer I’d stashed for him, before sliding his arm around her thin waist. His fingers splay down over her hip in a possessive manner, and I feel a little curl of jealousy swarm in my gut. As he walks away though, he spares me a glance over her shoulder.
“Hey, thanks again Mac.” He nods. “You’re the best.”
I give him a quick nod.
Yep. I was the best. The best cleaner. The best caterer. The best roommate. The best doormat. Ugh.
My mood is rapidly deteriorating, and I just need to get away from all the revelry for a bit before I bite someone’s head off for some totally inane comment. I also desperately need out of this dress before I start smelling like a bar at the end of a long night.
I weave through the crowd and duck under the makeshift rope we’ve created on the stairwell to head upstairs. It’s a house rule we’ve all agreed to; only people who live here go upstairs. Olivia could have all the wild parties she wanted, and her friends could get up to whatever debauchery they liked downstairs, but I was one hundred percent not willing to have my bedroom turn into a hookup spot.
I head for my room at the back of the hall when I notice the rain splattering on the windowpane in the little library. Library is probably an aspirational description if I’m being fair. It’s really more of an alcove with a small loveseat and half stacked bookshelves flanking either side. I have no idea what purpose it might have originally been intended to serve for the first owners, but in the 21st century, it’s an excellent place to study and read. And therefore, very much my little library.
I glance between my room and the alcove, trying to decide if I’d fall asleep if I just took a second to relax on the couch and enjoy the rain before I change out of this dress.
It sucked that Wren wasn’t here. She’s our third roommate, and more of a nerd like me. When we got bored with the house parties, we always absconded up here with some snacks and drinks and curled up in her room to watch a few of our shows. Only the ones Olivia wouldn’t miss and didn’t like. The “old timey” stuff, as she liked to call it.
I smile. I’m lucky to have my roommates right now. Even though this particular party sucked in my estimation; we’d spent several nights this week eating an array of ever-stranger ice cream flavors we found at the local market and talking about all the ways Ezra could go straight to hell for what he did to me. We’d even come up with a few ways I thought were quite inventive and likely hadn’t been tried before.
My laziness wins out, and I collapse on the loveseat. I’m careful not to let the damp parts of the dress touch the velvet upholstery. I lean my face against the window and let the glass cool my overheated skin. Despite being scantily clad in the dress Olivia picked out, there were still way too many warm bodies in this old house to stay cool.
I slide my feet out of the heels she’d let me borrow and stretch my toes. Already there’s a marked improvement in my mood just from that. Olivia loved dressing me up in borrowed shoes and new outfits she’d just happened to pick out for me. I didn’t mind it most of the time, except for when it got painful.
I’d have to go back downstairs in a bit. Check on Olivia, check on the house, and make sure nothing too wild was happening before I could call it a night, but from here the music and the voices were a dull roar in the background.
That is, until I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, each clomp echoing off the old walls and down the hall. They didn’t belong to Olivia, since she had a lot more grace than that. Which meant I was about to have to deal with yet another drunk jerk who can’t obey house rules.
“The bathroom is downstairs!” I yell out, hoping the oaf turns around, so I don’t have to deal with him directly. I’ve had my fair share already tonight, and I don’t have the patience for another.
But there’s no response, and I hear the footsteps coming closer.
“Can’t a girl catch a fucking break?” I grumble, rising to meet the nuisance in my hall.
“Depends on what kind of break she needs,” a deep voice answers, and his figure looms in the alcove's archway, blotting out the light and stopping me in my tracks.
