Page 24 of The Fake
The blank stare she gives me has me feeling uneasy about the hope spreading inside me. Fuck. Could it really be this easy? Fake date a girl I actually like—talk about a dream job.
“No,” I say again, mostly for my own benefit.
Bending down, Chloe unbuckles the delicate straps of her silver heels. They wrap around her ankles in the sexiest way but turns out her taking them off—also sexy. She steps out of them and picks both shoes up in one hand, stands, and extends them toward me.
“Not really my style.”
She rolls her eyes. “These shoes are worth over nine hundred dollars. You could probably sell them for close to that. I’ve only worn them once.”
“Nine hundred dollars? For shoes?!” I shake my head. “I’m not taking your shoes.”
“The point is I have the money.” She shrugs one shoulder. “You’re used to people using you to piss people off, I’m used to people using money for all the wrong reasons.”
“And I’m a good reason? Spare me the pity. Heath can rot in jail for unpaid tickets.” Though as I say it, my stomach twists. Fucking Heath.
“It’s not pity.”
I give her a hard look.
“Okay, not entirely.”
I start to blow by her before I do something stupid like agree to take money from her, but she steps in front of me. “Let me do this. Please? Let me do something good with my money for a change. And it isn’t like I’m getting nothing out of this. My teammates think you’re hot and awesome. Two of them have already started speaking to me just because they think I’m dating you. A few more weeks and I think I can get them to truly accept me.” She places a hand on my chest and warmth spreads through me. “Volleyball is everything to me. It’s all I’ve lived for, for as long as I can remember. It’s my last year, and I want to prove to myself and everyone else that I deserve to be here. And I need them to like me at least a little bit for that.”
“I don’t know,” I say, but I already feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders just entertaining the offer. I run a hand through my hair. “Hot and awesome, huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “Their words, not mine.” She puts her shoes back on the floor and holds on to my shoulder as she steps into them. I watch, fascinated, as she buckles five-hundred-dollar bills onto each foot. She stands when she’s done, nearly eye-level to my six-foot-three height. “So, we have a deal?”
My throat is thick, so I nod my agreement.
We head down the stairs and back to the party. Am I really doing this?
“Should we set some sort of terms?” she asks.
I shrug. “Never done this before. Not really sure. Let’s just roll with it.”
This whole thing is bizarre. I don’t say that though because this bizarre thing is saving my ass. Best not to think through the details too hard right now.
Her confidence deflates a bit when we find her teammates outside, and that makes me ready to do anything for her. Pretending to be her boyfriend is low level when I think of the things I’d probably be willing to do to win her over.
“Okay, you ready?” she asks as we stand a few feet away.
“Just one thing.”
“What?” A tiny crease forms between her eyes as if she’s deeply concentrating on some minor detail she’s forgotten in the fake boyfriend user guide.
“No sex.”
The crease disappears, and her brows raise. “Okay, no sex.”
“You agreed way too easily.”
She smiles and responds dryly, “I’m hurting on the inside.”
I chuckle, and I can sense her relax a bit.
“Alright. I’m ready.”
She hesitates. “Wait, why don’t you want to have sex withme?”
