Page 85 of Lessons in Faking
I spun around at least three times, pushing myself up on my tiptoes to catch a glance of his dark skin and short hair. Nothing. Just rows of vaguely familiar faces noticing me, then falling into whispered conversations like little girls who weren’t sure if they’d just walked past a celebrity.
If they knew why I was here, couldn’t one of them just point me in the right direction? The right room? The right floor?
“Room 219, second floor.”
I hurled toward my answered prayer. And stared back at Wren. “How do you know?”
Her head tilted lightly, turning me toward the receptionist. “Iasked,” she said, giving the blond middle-aged woman a light wave. “And the nice lady told me.” The nice lady smiled back at us, then nodded.
“But you hate talking to strangers.”
Wren was the introvert to my extrovert. When there were reservations to make, customer service lines to call, or questions to ask, she sent me to handle them. Since it was the only thing I could do for her—the only way she seemingly benefited from our friendship—I did so gladly.
Wren asking the receptionist (anything, never mind where we’d find McCarthy) was to me what premiumHamiltontickets were to her.
I love you!I mouthed, watching her make her way over to Henry as I pressed the button to the second floor. Six times.
Chapter 35
222, 221, 220—I came to an abrupt halt, seeing room 219 before spotting Blake on one of the hallway chairs.
“Oh,” I stuttered, for God knows what reason. “Hey.” My gaze drifted back to the closed door of the room.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come” was the first thing he said to me. “Now I feel bad for not thinking you’d actually come.”
Some of the tension in the air evaporated. “Does this mean I pass your background check, then?” I asked. My eyes flickered toward him to make sure he got the reference to our conversation in the bar. The amused smile on his lips told me he did. It felt like an eternity ago.
“Athalia.” He chuckled softly, coming over. “You passed that so long ago, you shouldn’t even be thinking about it anymore.” Then he gestured to the door. “I didn’t tell him you were coming.”
“Seeing as you didn’t think I was, that makes sense.”
“Sorry again.”
I think he was waiting for me to go in. I think I was too. Three times I’d been just about to make the first step, and three times I’d changed my mind, then only swayed lightly in the direction of the door.
Blake cleared his throat again. “By the way, the drugs are kind of... intense.” He seemed almost amused. “Which is why I’m out here, and not getting my ear chewed off in there. He can’t seem to shut the fuck up.”
And then I just stopped thinking—stopped overthinking, really—and grabbed the handle, even though I was completely unprepared for what would meet me inside.
I think I held my breath until my eyes fell on Dylan. He looked... not all that bad. There was a fat bruise on his cheek, but no sign of a broken rib, although, admittedly, I wasn’t sure what signs of a broken rib I could have picked up on.
“Oh God.” My eyes snapped back to his, concern furrowing my brow. “I’m dead,” he said. “I’ve gone to heaven?” After a long pause, he offered a corrective: “Or hell.”
“You think I’d get into heaven?” I huffed, amusement mixing with relief as I stepped toward him. It was so easy—slipping into sarcasm and irony and jokes, even when the situation didn’t call for it.
He smiled, wide and loopy, his head rolling to the side to follow my every move until I stood right beside him. “Fuck no,” he snorted. “If anything, you’re the reason I’m down here now.” He reached out his hand to interlace his fingers with mine, smiling up at me as if he’d just declared his love instead of calling me a demon that landed him in hell.
“Ouch.” But I wasn’t the least bit offended. “How are you?”
“Don’t lie,” he started, drowsily amused. “You were always hoping I got injured one way or another. This is just a delayed manifestation of that.” His smile was teasing.
“That’s”—outrageous, awful... true—“not true” was what I settled for. Dylan snorted.
“You cheered every time I got fouled or missed a shot.”
God. I had, hadn’t I?My eyes narrowed. “Did Henry tell you that?”
“No one told me that,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I saw—” He cut himself off, debating whether to go on. “When you picked your brother up from practice the first time, I asked what your name was, and he told me to fuck off. Since then, watching you is all I’ve been doing.” He shook his head. “Thinking about you too. Noticing you. When I walk into a room, it’s second nature to look for you. It’s no different when I’m on the field. I look through the stands until I do or don’t see you. I didn’t even know why.”
