Page 23

Chapter 23

Zack

Something’s wrong with Emilie. She’s been off, even at the event—kind of like she’s smiling but in a way she knows she’s supposed to. She’s on edge, and I keep catching her putting her hand on her chest. It makes me want to figure out what’s going on, find a way to bring her back to me.

Not that’s she mine, not really. Tell that to my brain before bed or my dick when I think of all the times we’ve been together and always found ways to touch.

After seeing how her family treats her and how she’s practically accepted it, I want to protect her. I know she doesn’t need it but, fuck, I want to do it anyway.

This weather is wild; standing water fills the road, and I’m trying to get us home safely. I’m trying to get to her apartment, but some of the roads are impassable, completely flooded.

Finally, I'm on her street, but the flooding ahead means we’ll have to walk.

“I’m going to park where it’s not flooded, and we’re going to run to your apartment, ok?”

She doesn’t say anything, but instead zips her purse and her When We Play quarter zip.

I park the car when she says, “You don’t have to come with me. I’m fine.” It’s like an order and not a suggestion. She has her hand on the door handle and opens it before I have a chance to do anything .

Scrambling, I unbuckle, feel for my key fob in my pocket, and run after her. It’s not flooded on the sidewalks, not yet at least, but the sky is getting darker and the rain shows no sign of stopping.

I catch up to her at the entrance to her apartment building. Emilie tries to shield herself from the rain, coming down sideways, as she tries to enter the keycode to get in. She has her apartment key in the same hand. I try to stand in front of her, blocking the rain. “Can you give me some room?” she snaps.

What the fuck?

“Give you room? It’s a fucking monsoon. I’m trying to help,” I practically yell as the wind whips through, loud and threatening.

“I don’t need your help,” she says as she drops her keys.

I reach down, pick them up, and stand in front of her. “You don’t, huh?” She finally gets the code right, grabs the keys from me, and opens the door to her building without saying a word.

The lobby is empty, the doorman not even around.

“Apparently, I’ve pissed you off. Tell me what I did so I can fix it,” I insist, shaking the water from my hands.

She whips around, her curls wet on the side of her face. She sighs, opens her bag, pulls her phone out, and puts it right in front of my face.

Well, fuck. It’s a still from a night out with Cassie. I take the phone from Emilie, letting it jog my memory. I remember that night, and I knew I was being reckless. It's not a full-fledged sex tape, but she asked if we could record some of it, and I said yes. All of this is consensual.

The timing isn’t ideal.

She grabs her phone from me and turns.

“Wait, Emilie.” I reach for her arm and get just enough to stop her.

“Maybe that’s why Cassie showed up at the game? She was looking for another Zack Andersen cameo. ”

I take a deep breath. I don’t want to go on the defensive but she’s making it hard. “That video isn’t recent. It's from last year when I had that stupid blue streak in my hair for one of my sponsorships.”

Never thought I'd find a good thing that came from someone temporarily putting a Cosmos blue dye in my hair, but I guess it’s solid for timestamping a NSFW video that shows up much later.

“You know, this was your idea. The whole fake dating thing. You showed up, unannounced, and it wasn’t something I asked for, but that’s just how you are. No one tells Zack Andersen ‘no.’ You’re so charming and cunning and FUCK. Why did you even do this in the first place? I can’t wait to try and explain this to my family.”

Emilie is full-on ranting. I watch her lips move, trying to catch the words flying out of her mouth a mile a minute.

“Let’s go inside and let me explain this.” I try to keep my voice calm and level.

“Explain what? Your sex tape that’s taking the Internet by storm? God, it’s so cliché I can’t even take it. The fake version of us isn’t even worth it.” She starts to laugh and looks at the ceiling, her hands resting on her hips.

The cliché comment stings. I take a step closer to her, my eyes glued on hers. “First of all, don’t do that—tell me I’m a cliché. Believe me, I get it. I don’t need to hear it from you.” Emilie scoffs and turns her head to the side, breaking eye contact. I follow with my head so she must look at me. “Second, if this,” I point between the two of us, “is so fake, why are you so pissed off?”

“You know what my family is like and they already weren’t convinced, and now I'm going to look like an even bigger idiot at this wedding and—”

I can’t even let her finish. “Your family? Get the fuck out of here. You’re the realest person I’ve ever met, and I know this is not about your family.”

“You don’t know everything about me.” Her arms cross over her chest as she looks up into my face.

“I don’t. But I do know you had a chance to end this at the gala, tell Mitch and Eliza I was kidding. I know you didn’t have to bring me to your family dinner. I also know that you don’t do a damn thing you don’t want to. You wanted in on this, too.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice when you just show up and announce you’re coming to this wedding.” She looks around, like the answer to the question is hidden somewhere in this apartment lobby.

“You’re fucking kidding me. You always have a choice. Plus, you were the one with all the rules and stipulations. You clearly thought this through.”

I close the distance, our faces even closer, rage dancing in her eyes. Now would be the most ridiculous time to kiss her but I can’t help but stare at those lips. Those perfect fucking lips. It's like months of almost touching her, having her, thinking about what it’d be like, is coming down to this moment. Again, the timing couldn’t be worse.

“And you didn’t answer my question. If this is fake, why are you so fucking mad?”

Her eyes flash with surprise.

Just as the power goes out and the city sirens wail.