Page 86 of That Fake Feeling

WhileI’dtried to give him the benefit of the doubt that the energy and adrenalinI’dseen him put into the mural really was the reason,Icouldn’t help but think he was having second thoughts about the energy and adrenalin he’d put into our extracurricular activities.

AsIcrawled into my enormous, fabulous bed alone,Idid my best to put the whole thing out of my mind, which was tricky becauseIcould still feel where he’d been.

ButwhenIwas woken this morning by a knock on my door, and it turned out to beConnorin just his underwear carrying two cups of coffee,Ifelt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Hecrawled in beside me, and we chatted for a while before repeating the staircase performance, but without the carpet burns.

Andnow as we sit in the kitchen,Connorin his suit and ready for work while he munches on toast and jam and talks withSterlingabout our next move,Istruggle to figure out where our fake world ends and our real one begins.

AllIknow is that the soreness between my legs from all the new activity is very, very real.

“Oh, the beach house!”Sterling’seyes widen with joy as he holds his phone out at full stretch revealing his pink shirt patterned with bright yellow pineapples. “That’san excellent idea.”

Iturn toConnor. “Youhave a beach house?”

Helooks at me and licks a stray crumb from his lip.Mybelly flutters as my mind instantly shoots back to what that tongue was licking not that long ago.

“Yup,” he says. “Outnear the end ofLongIsland.”

Heturns back toSterling.

“Youcould tip off a couple of photographers, and we could wander about the beach and do a bunch of romantic stuff.Youknow, like splashing ankle-deep in the ocean.”Heslides one hand off the counter and onto my knee whereSterlingcan’t see it. “Ormassaging sunscreen over each other’s barely clothed bodies.Allthat kind of stuff.”

Ilean to the side, out ofSterling’ssight.Myface is burning from the secret knee strokes and must be bright red.

“I’mdelighted you’re finally seeing the light here,Connor, and getting with the program,”Sterlingsays. “Fabulousto hear you coming up with great ideas of your own.”

“Well, you know, sales are picking up.”Connorpushes his plate to the side and slides his hand up my thigh. “AndI’mdefinitely starting to see the benefit of this arrangement.”

Thereit is.Thefateful reminder that this is all pretend.It’sall business.

Icross my legs, making his hand fall off, and put down my toast.I’msuddenly not hungry any longer.

“Yes,”Sterlingsays, “Icouldn’t be happier with the pics and footage fromTheLearningVillage.Particularlythe one with the paint on your nose,Rose.”Hepauses. “Rose?Areyou still there?”

“Yup.”Islide back into view but keep as much distance as possible fromConnor. “Righthere.”

“Iknew that would be a winner.”He’sso infuriatingly delighted with himself. “Andthe expression you managed to make when you were looking up at the big painting on the wall, that was magic.Welldone.”

Magicis easy when it’s real.

“I’llwork on getting interest in the family photos from your parents’ place too,” he continues as he makes notes. “Butin the meantime, you guys plan to get out to the beach this weekend, andI’lltell a couple of the top paparazzi they might just happen to get some great—and completely natural—photos if they hang out in the vicinity of the house.”

“Thanks,Sterling,”Connorsays. “Gotto go to work.Seeya.”

Hehangs up, leans toward me, and drops a kiss on my forehead.Itfeels good and like he means it.It’sall so confusing,Icould almost burst into tears on the spot.

“Iwas going to start looking for an apartment this weekend.”Ipush the toast around my plate. “Forwhen this is over.AndIhave to move out.”

“Oh.”Hesounds genuinely disappointed. “Thoughtit might be nice for us to get out of town for a couple of nights.Actuallyspend some time together.Nowthat things have, you know”—he takes my toast-fiddling hand, pulls it to his lips, and brushes a light kiss across the back of it—“changed between us.”

Noone kisses someone on the back of the hand and their forehead if they don’t mean it, do they?Imean, why would anyone bother?Andyet he also suddenly seems to be all-in on the publicity stunts.Howcan he be all real and all fake at the same time?

“Ifthings had really changed between us, you wouldn’t have toldSterlingto tip off photographers.”

“Don’tbe silly.Ihad to tell him that, so he’d get off our backs and leave us in peace for the weekend.”

Iguess that makes sense.Andhe wouldn’t suggest going to all the trouble of getting out of town to spend time alone with me if he didn’t really want to.Ifit were only about playing up to the cameras, we could do that anywhere.