Page 84 of Faking It
“To celebrate.”
Now he has my attention. I lift my head back up to meet his eyes. “Celebrate what?”
“Well, we’re now more than halfway through this bus tour that I swear will end up being my demise if Robert has his way—”
“God love him.” I laugh but Zane levels me with a get serious look.
“And because the subscription numbers have now smashed all predictions. I hate to admit it and I’ll never say it to his face, but Robert was on to something with this showing real life crap. The site’s video section is getting so much traffic it’s ridiculous.”
“Congratulations!” I say. “That’s incredible and awesome and oh God, that means he’s going to make us do more of these stunts isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.” Zane’s chuckle rumbles around the stainless steel filled kitchen and echoes back to me. “Just think, that also means you’re over halfway done with having to put up with me. You’ll get to be home in your own bed with Lula and back to your life.”
“Yay,” I say, my voice chock-full of enthusiasm to mask the sudden flicker of panic his words have brought me.
Over halfway done.
It hits me right there in the middle of a kitchen in a culinary school with Zane rubbing my feet, cupcakes on the counter ready to be eaten and my own doubts spinning in a constant circle in my head—but none of it seems to matter.
I’m falling for Zane Phillips.
I’m falling for him and our time left is limited.
The countdown is on.
THE COACH STOPS, THEN STARTS.
A jake-brake sounds down the road.
The headlights glare in the windows at times. And at others, the world beyond seems like a pitch-black maze of nothingness that goes on forever.
It’s the most I’ve ever travelled in my life and unfortunately all I’m seeing of it are ballrooms and hotels and endless stretches of highway at night.
Zane plays absently with my hair as we relax on the couch. He’s sitting, watching the news, and I’m lying down with my head on his thigh, eyes closed, trying to process how this is currently my life.
“I can’t believe how many people showed up tonight,” I say.
“I was surprised, but shouldn’t be. The subscription numbers reflect a buzz from the first wave of people we allowed to start using the platform this week. Robert’s suggestion to do it so they post on social media was the right one.”
“I heard you on the phone with him earlier. Everything sounded like good news from what I could understand.”
“Very good news.”
His hand in my hair is soothing, so much so I froze when he first began doing it because it’s such an oddly intimate gesture.
“That lady from tonight . . .the one in the front row with the black polka dotted shirt on—”
“The one who monopolized your time? I felt bad for you but I couldn’t exactly extricate you without looking like a dick.”
“It was okay,” I murmur as his fingers begin to massage my scalp. “She seemed so lost, so desperate to find someone to love . . . it broke my heart.”
And here we’re pretending to have the perfect . . . well, not so perfect love if you watch the videos Robert has had made showing us arguing on the trust course, flinging flour at each other during cooking, and possibly cursing at each other as we fell with our legs tied together.
“You can’t save everyone, Cinder.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I just hope she finds what she’s looking for on SoulM8 whether it be companionship . . . a boyfriend. Her prince.”
“Life’s not a fairytale.”
