Page 80 of Play Fake
And I do fucking love her. I knew it before this. I’ve suspected it for a while. But last night when she was coming apart in my arms, one of the few moments I do have flashbacks of—thank fuck—I knew it in my fucking soul. The woman owns me. Every single piece of me.
Which makes me a sad sack of shit because however I convinced her to stay with me last night, I’m positive it wasn’t because she’s in love with me. I didn’t hear a word from her all week. Nothing. Nada.
And when I showed up and offered to help last night, she acted like I had the fucking plague. Like she was terrified of walking into the party with me, worried someone might think we were together. So I’d given her space, even flirted with other women. I vaguely remember London offering me a threesome, and I really hope Mac didn’t walk in on that conversation. And if she did, I don't know how it ended with her sleeping with me and nursing my hangover.
I guess I’m going to have to keep wondering because I’m not about to have that conversation. How would I even start? Hey, hope you’re great. I didn’t accidentally confess I love you and beg you to fuck me, did I?
I look around for my phone and see it sitting mostly dead on the nightstand. There’s a couple of missed texts and I scroll through them.
London:Where are you sexy? I wanna fuck.
London:You gonna miss out on birthday blow jobs? Really?
Holly:London says she can’t find you anywhere. If you went home with someone else, you’re missing out. This is expensive lingerie I bought for you, buddy.
Several kissy face emojis follow her text.
I swipe them and scroll again.
Ben:I know you’re fucking blitzed out of your mind, but if you want any chance at all with Mac, you better call the bunny twins off. Mac’s going to leave if you don’t get your shit together.
Ben:Dude. I’m fucking batting for you here with her, but I can only do so much. What. The. Fuck.
Fuckkkk. I definitely did not see those last night. But I remember Ben talking to Mac. I’d assumed they were flirting because I was wasted and stupid. I know fucking better than to think Ben would fuck me over like that, and it’s hard to believe Mac would.
I scroll again, finally landing on the name I most want to see.
Mac Truck:I don’t know how much you understood this morning, so I’m texting for whenever you wake up. I had to go into work. I told Liam to make sure you have a supply of Gatorade and meds on your bedside table, and he promised he’d do it. I hope you’re feeling better. Text me later and let me know you’re okay, please?
Apparently, I didn’t totally fuck things up if she wants to make sure I’m okay. I smile for half a second before another wave of nausea hits, and I groan into the pillow.
TWENTY-FIVE
Mackenzie
I makemy way to the bathroom in the bar. Olivia and Wren are both gone now since they had to make their way home early, but I was thankful they were able to come at least for a little while. The fluorescent lights in the bathroom are blindingly bright as I dig through my purse to find my lipstick and reapply it. I always hate going into a room this bright after spending hours in the bar. No matter how good you think you look, you always look like a train wreck in the bathroom mirror.
I wipe a little smudge of mascara off my cheek, and reapply the candy apple red color I’d grown fond of lately. Then the door creaks open and my worst nightmare walks in. Or what was my worst nightmare. Now I kind of want to thank her for doing me the favor of showing me who Ezra really was before I wasted more time on him.
Of course, she still looks perfect under the bright lights in here, her red hair cascading in waves over her shoulder and down her back, and her lip gloss looking like she’d somehow just freshly applied it. The lace shirt she has on over her bra leaves little to the imagination, as does her skirt and I can’t help but wonder if the entire outfit is for Ezra’s benefit.
“Mackenzie.” She gives me a fake smile and heads straight for me.
Wonderful.
“Hello.” I answer her tersely because I can’t imagine what we have to say to each other. A quick exchange of bitchy glances and then pretending like we didn’t see each other would have sufficed for me.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Hmm?” I pretend to be too engrossed in the reapplication of my makeup to talk.
“I just really wanted to apologize for the mix-up with Ez. I didn’t know the two of you were together. He didn’t tell me when we met and so,” she shrugs like she made a little oops. Like breaking up a relationship that had been the longest of my life was just a little whoopsie moment.
“Long since forgotten.” I dismiss her. I suddenly wish Olivia and Wren were still here with me.
“Oh, I’m sure. Not much there if you ask me,” she gives a little falsetto laugh and applies another layer of lip gloss to her lips.
I restrain the urge I have to defend Ezra. I’m still learning whether we can be friends again, but to say there’s not much to him? That was a boldfaced lie. He was hot, funny, kindhearted, a good friend, and until the cheating incident had more or less been a good boyfriend, the occasional spat notwithstanding. Now that I had Waylon in my life, he paled in comparison, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his charms. I honestly hoped he’d learned his lesson and would do better with his next girlfriend.
