Page 38 of Faking It
He’s talking to Smudge.
Big, macho Zane Phillips is checking on his dog in the kennel and talking to him at three in the damn morning.
I must turn ten different shades of red as I flick my eyes from Zane’s confused expression to Smudge sitting pretty now waiting to hear his owner’s voice again.
“I’m sorry. I t
hought—I should—” I stop myself mid-sentence when I see the realization, plain as day, register on his face.
“Oh my God!” Zane throws his head back and laughs, hand to his stomach. “You thought that I was—fuck that’s funny.”
“I’m just going to shut my mouth now,” I say and flop back on the bed and cover my face with the comforter.
“I mean, I really like doggy style, Cinder, but that’s taking it to an all new level I’m never going to.”
“Will you be quiet, please?” I ask, my mortification heightened with every riff of his laugh.
“Fucking classic,” he murmurs through his laugh. “Sorry Smudge, I love you and all . . .”
And the smartass remarks continue, one after another, as I hold my hands over my ears and fight my own smile.
I’m such an idiot.
Zane talks to his dog via web cam.
I guess I need to reevaluate my initial opinion of him.
Any guy who does that gets an up-rating in my book.
“C’MON, LET ME BUY YOU a drink.”
I look over at the very handsome man to my right. Dark hair, light eyes, and an arrogant air to him that says he knows it. The one who has been making eyes at me all night long, regardless of the fact that I’ve been on stage with my supposed boyfriend talking about the love we’ve found on SoulM8.
“No, thank you.” I offer a tight smile and take a step back.
“That’s Zane Phillips, you know,” he says and takes a step toward me.
“I’m fully aware who he is. Thank you.”
“We run in the same circles. I know how he is.”
“I know how he is too.”
The man’s laugh is condescending. “So you’re prepared for your heart to be broken?”
“My heart. My business,” I say as kindly as possible, more than aware that I’m here representing a brand and so telling him to go to hell like I normally would isn’t exactly professional.
“I wouldn’t do that to you.” He trails a finger down my bare arm, and I immediately take a step away from him.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the ladies room.”
I exit the ballroom of the country club and make my way down the hallway. Needing a better escape from Mr. Forward than the bathroom, I push through the first set of unlocked doors and find myself in an open courtyard of sorts. There are concrete benches and trellises where vines have crawled up the stone walls and onto the wooden lattice. Fairy lights twinkle around me, and it’s everything I need right now to give me a breather.
I tense when I hear footsteps and then sag in relief when I see Zane. Our eyes meet across the dimly lit space and I register the tension sewn into the lines of his face.
“You going to flirt your way through the whole room, Harlow? I think you may have missed a few.”
“Excuse me?” The relief I’d felt moments ago gives way to confused anger.
