Page 54 of Faking It
“Both, really.” His lips turn down. “Forget Robert. He means nothing. Everything is fine.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?” The dress slides on over my head and when my face peeks out, his attention is still on me.
“Believe me. Don’t believe me. It’s no skin off my back.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Zane.” And then the thought hits me like a battering ram. The sudden attention from Robert. The immediate bristling of Zane to it. My stomach churns all the sudden when I’m looking at a man I have no claim to. “You slept with someone else and got caught, didn’t you?”
“No.”
My chest constricts at the thought and I hate that the mere thought has me glancing toward the bed, while imagining the door I opened for him last night when I went to the hotel. The door I opened so that I could gain some space and distance so I wouldn’t want him and obviously failed at miserably.
Because of course I want him. Haven’t I in some way or another since he brought me the shoes?
Holy shit.
Did I really just admit that?
My revelation hits me full force as I stare at him. Blinking. Rejecting the idea with a subtle shake of my head that I know isn’t going to do shit to get these sudden feelings from going away.
It’s this whole situation. It has to be. The road trip. The sleeping together on the coach. The being in each other’s hair twenty-four-seven.
But my irritation has given way to want, my resistance to desire, both of which I’m finding a hard time grasping when for the past few weeks all I’ve told myself is that there can be nothing between us.
He stands before me hair mussed, eyes intense, and tension set in his shoulders and all I can focus on is what triggered this whole revelation. Because more important than realizing I really like Zane Phillips, is the fear that he might have actually slept with someone last night.
“Zane . . .” His name is a sigh on my lips. A warning. A plea fo
r my train of thought to be wrong . . . but when I stare at him, he doesn’t back down in his resolve. He’s either one hell of a liar or he’s telling the truth.
“Robert saw a woman walking away from the coach this morning who was definitely trying her hardest to be you.”
“Me?” I laugh and he just nods.
“He thinks I cheated on you. Among other things. I told him he was crazy and that our life outside of this promotion is none of his goddamn business.” Zane shoves his wallet in his back pocket as if the accusation is no big deal and his eyes flicker down to my boots before roaming back up. “So are we going or what?”
I stare at him, at the hand he has outstretched to me, and the question in his eyes: yes or no.
But I know the answer. Especially when he’s standing there looking dark and dangerous in the dim light of the coach and with my unexpected revelation running a loop in my mind on repeat.
Yes.
Definitely, yes.
We make our way toward downtown with the lights and the bars and the crowds. It might be a weeknight but the city’s alive with people needing a release after a long, hard day.
“Pick.” It’s the only thing Zane says to me as he opens the car door and helps me out of the Uber.
We spend a few minutes walking down the strip of street lined with bar after bar. Past the people busking for change and the street vendors selling useless glow in the dark items that appeal to those who are drunk. The smell of fried food fills the air and the flash of neon reflects off the glass windows.
“You said it was my choice,” I say and lift my eyebrows, glancing over to where he sits beside me on the barstool.
“It was a good choice.” A nod of his head. A sip of his beer. A casual glance around the crowded bar.
“You’re such a liar. This is the furthest thing from your style and you know it. You wanted that classy joint on the corner.” I laugh.
The music overhead is loud and full of twang, the belt buckles are big and shiny, and the atmosphere is more rowdy and casual than the sophisticated whiskey bar feel I expected of him.
“Nah. It’s perfect.” He leans back in his stool, his arm over the back of mine absently playing with a loose strand of my hair. It’s innocent in nature but something about it feels so intimate to me.
