Page 51 of Fake Love

I’ve taken enough of my mom’s time. “Go to sleep, Ma. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

“Good night, my baby boy. I love you. I’ll be watching tomorrow hoping to catch a glimpse. ”

I smile a bit. “Okay. I love you too. Good night, Ma.”

Ending the call, I feel a bit better about what tomorrow might bring, but I’m still a little wired.

I pick up my phone again from where I just placed it a few seconds ago and start scrolling through social media.

In the three weeks or so since Jen took over my accounts, I’ve been getting an influx of notifications. New followers, likes, mentions, everything has grown. Definitely not how it was this time last year when I was losing followers and getting hate messages every hour.

To think all it took was her posting a picture of me and a kid at a charity event for people to start seeing me in a different light.

Since then she’s posted a few pictures and videos of me pitching these couple of weeks and those have kept people interested. But the one thing that people want more of, is pictures of her.

I guess Ben was right, people love seeing others in relationships and me posting a picture of Jen drove them crazy.

As I scroll through the videos and pictures on my screen, my mind never leaves Jen.

And much like when I was talking to my mom, a smile forms on my face at the thought of her.

Fuck, I may actually have feelings for this girl and probably in deeper than I thought.

But apparently I don’t give a shit how deep I am and where my feelings lay, because as I continue to think about her, I decide to call her.

It's late and I’m about to hang up the phone after the fourth ring when she picks up.

“Hello?” her voice comes through sounding a bit confused.

“Everything okay?” I say instead of a greeting.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“You sound confused.”

She’s silent for a few seconds, finally responding after I had checked if the call was dropped.

“Sorry, um I’m just surprised. We never talk on the phone.”

“True.” I say, trying to compose myself a bit. Maybe calling her was a bad idea. “I would have texted but my head is a little wired at the moment.”

“Are you okay?” She asks, and by the small squeaks in the background, she must be in bed already.

Like I did with my mom, I tell her the truth.

“I’m slightly freaking out about being called up.” I admit.

“Why? It’s not like you haven't been here before. Weren’t you in this very position at the start of your career?”

My ears perk up a bit at her statement. I have yet to tell her that.

“You looked me up.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did, because I haven’t told you anything about the start of my career.” I tease. We’ve touched a few things, but definitely not that.

“Nope, I definitely didn’t look you up.” Without a doubt, she is shaking her head and rolling her eyes at me.

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