Page 67 of Play Fake
“Well, that was interesting,” she says at last, breaking the awkward silence.
“I’m really sorry. I must not have locked it last night. Fucking idiot.” I bury my face in my hands, cursing myself for making this kind of fuckup.
I feel her weight shift, and when I look up again, she’s wrapped in the blanket, a smile plastered on her face, one that does not go all the way to her eyes despite her best efforts.
It’s regret.Regret she slept with you, fuckboy.
“Don’t be silly. It’s fine. That’s what I get for sleeping this late,” she gives a soft laugh.
That’s what I get for sleeping with you.Is more like what she meant to say.
I just stare at her, not sure whether to call her on her bullshit or just let her think I believe it.
“I’m just gonna get dressed and stuff, real quick,” she jerks her chin toward the bathroom and I nod, afraid to say anything at all.
She’s in the bathroom for a few minutes, and I use the time to clean up the room and make the bed. I put on clothes myself. I should shower, but I don’t fucking want to. I can smell the scent of her perfume and her, all over me and my sheets, and I want to keep it that way as long as possible. Especially since with each passing moment, I’m thinking there won’t be a repeat.
I check my phone and there are a couple of texts from my mom about plans for the day. I text her back, letting her know I woke up late but I will definitely catch up with her and Jake as soon as I get dressed and get some breakfast in me.
I’m hoping Mac will let me take her to breakfast. If I can get her out of this place and away from asshats, get her back to her joking sweet self, claw back the bullshit to get the girl I had in my arms last night? Well, then maybe, just maybe, I can tell her I want her for real. In the broad light of day when I’m not buried inside her, and she can’t mistake my words.
The door opens, and she’s used the time to her advantage. She looks fresh and bright eyed. The only signs she’s been mussed are the creases in her skirt and blouse from laying on the floor all night. It’s almost like nothing happened at all. I hate it.
“So I should get going. Just gotta find a couple of things.” She beams at me before she searches around the room for her purse and phone.
“You sure you don’t want to go with me and my mom and Jake? We’re gonna go up to the mountains for a bit, do some touristy stuff. You know the stuff we never do because we live here,” I speak quickly because I feel like I’m on a timer. I wish she would just look up, give me her eyes, let me read her face, but she is determined to get out of here.
“No, no,” she waves her hand absently, “You need alone time with your family without me in the way. I’m sure your mom would like to have you to herself for a while.”
She pops her head up to smile at me before she’s back down on her knees looking under the bed and holy fuck; I hope I don’t have old condom wrappers or anything else incriminating within eyesight.
She’s not wrong. My mom, I am sure, would like to give me the third degree about Mac and about my life, and that’s not a thing she would do in front of company. Despite all her rough edges and joking, my mom does still adhere to southern manners for the most part.
“Oh! One down,” she holds up her phone like it’s a trophy she’s just acquired.
“All right. Well, how about we get breakfast first? Just me and you. I can take you to Snooze. I’ve heard you say you love their pancakes,” I offer.
Her nose scrunches like I’ve said something strange, and she pauses in her search,fucking finally,and looks up at me almost like she might laugh.
“Waylon, you don’t need to take me to breakfast. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s obviously not fine. Easton and Lauren busting in here and—“
She holds up her hand, the false smile plastered on her face again.
“Waylon. We fucked. I don’t need aftercare. It’s morning, and I’m just going home and you’re going to catch up with your family. I don’t care about Easton and Lauren,” she says it in a voice that’s giving me full customer service, and it’s pissing me off.
“You weren’t fine with it two nights ago,” I say blankly.
Her smile falters now I’ve called her out.
“I mean yeah. I don’t want to fuck you literally right after her, like it’s an assembly line, but a week in between,” she shrugs. “I mean, Lauren was with you, what a few weeks ago?”
She wasn’t. It looked that way. But I’d had a dry spell for weeks before that. And definitely nothing since the morning of the shower incident. Since she’d been haunting my every waking dream.
When I don’t answer, she continues.
“And now she’s with Easton. So maybe next week you’re with London and I get my shot with Ben finally. Right?” She wiggles her eyebrows in an almost mirror imitation of the way Lauren did.
