Page 9

Chapter 9

Emilie

“What in the world is happening?” Willow opens the door with her phone practically hitting me in the face.

If I had to guess, it’s one of the many articles showing Zack and me at Trivium last night. Damn, I might work hard but the press works harder. My plan was to tell Willow and Tripp about the whole situation this morning but clickbait got to them first.

Playboy Zack Making a Play for Emilie

Who is Emilie Hayes, Zack Andersen’s Girl of the Week?

Stars Align for Zack Andersen and His New Girl

“I’m not a girl of the week. That’s insulting,” I groan, rolling my eyes and pushing in to Willow’s home. I practically lived here last year, especially last summer. Willow and I were new to working together but became fast friends.

I’m carrying donuts and coffee because this isn’t something you drop over a calming beverage, like Willow’s go-to peppermint tea.

“I tried calling Zack, but he didn’t answer,” Tripp says, standing up from the bar in the kitchen.

I set the carrier full of coffees down and place the bag of donuts next to them. “You two, chill. Coffee first and details second.”

While I hand out my breakfast peace offering, a task I wish took longer than twenty seconds, I try to catch my breath. Why does it feel like I’m talking to two disappointed parents ?

Taking a long drink of my iced coffee, I stand across from Willow and Tripp, both sitting at the bar.

“You don’t need to worry, it’s not real. I mean, it’s like, real as in I was at Trivium with Zack last night, it’s not a hologram or anything.”

Willow shakes her head. “No babbling.”

“It’s fake. We’re in a pretend relationship because Zack opened his big, beautiful mouth at the When We Play event. Zack was all white knight, trying to help me. He told Mitch he was my boyfriend and then Mitch was all, ‘You’re coming to the wedding, right?’”

The two of them are dialed in, hanging on my every word. I take another long sip; the caffeine is a necessity today.

“Ummm, Lo. This kind of, might be, our fault.” Tripp is the first one to speak.

Willow leans on the bar, looking at him, a little less in adoration and a bit more in annoyance.

“What?! It is. We were complaining about Eliza and Mitch at the bar, remember? Zack was definitely there when they came up to her,” Tripp gestures to me, voice soft.

“It also sounds like you gave Zack some Mitch details a few weeks ago.” I cross my arms, pretending to be mad.

He throws his hands up. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have said anything. That’s my bad, I'm not typically—”

I let a smile hit my lips. “I’m totally kidding. I don’t care that you told Zack.” Tripp’s shoulders relax, and Willow is trying not to laugh. “Back to the details. He has a bye week the week of the wedding. So, he’s coming with me to Mexico. How perfect is that?” I smile through the awkwardness.

“My brain can barely compute this.” Willow puts her head in her hands .

“No one is at fault. I could’ve corrected Zack. I didn’t need to go along with it,” I tell a small lie. There was no way I wasn’t going to continue the thing that was having Eliza look at me how she did. I’d like to say the petty version of myself doesn’t exist anymore, but truth is, she’s always right below the surface.

“Listen, this isn’t a big deal. We already hang out, I go to all the Cosmos games, and it’s going to be fine. He’ll come with me to the wedding, help me deal with the disaster that is my family, and then we’ll have a quiet break-up after. Or something.”

I put a piece of donut, cinnamon sugar apple cider—even though it’s August— in my mouth because this is the first time I thought about how we’ll end this thing. How long is long enough to seem real, but not long enough to think we’re two wounded lovers? I make a mental note to ask Zack.

“Or something?” Willow asks. “You’re the queen of a plan and you’re telling me you don’t have this part figured out yet?”

Damn it. Willow knows me too much for her own good. Or my own good. Who’s to know?

I sigh out a breath. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will, but I'm just protective of you. You deserve to have a real boyfriend with real feelings, not whatever you’re trying to do with Zack.”

It stings, but I also don’t buy it. I’ve not had a serious boyfriend since Mitch, and it makes me wonder if that isn’t something meant for me. No matter who it is, what kind of guy, it never felt right. I don’t expect it to be easy but I’d imagine, at some point, you let the mask fall a bit—the one that’s carefully constructed to be the most appealing version of yourself. Mitch was the last one who let me get that far and it still felt like raw skin from a fresh sunburn .

Maybe it’s me? Is there something that makes it hard for someone to want to tie themselves to me for longer than a few nights?

I reach over and squeeze Willow’s hand. I’m so thankful for the way she cares about me.

Tripp scrolls on his phone before picking it up and showing it to me. “You’re doing a hell of a job. This doesn’t look fake at all.”

His screen shows two pictures, side by side. The first is a picture of Zack and me during dinner. We’re leaning in—I don’t ever remember being that close—and both of our fingers on the last french fry. The second is us in front of the restaurant before we left. I’m turned in, still looking up at him because my heels are still no match for his 6’3’’ frame, my hand touching the front of his chest.

A breath gets lost on its way to my lungs, and I hide it as best I can. Even though I’ve seen every rendition of every angle of the same photos, they’re still jarring. It’s because we look like a true couple, not able to get enough of each other.

They take me back to when we were out front of Trivium. While the press interaction was less than a minute, I lived through it in slow motion, on repeat, before I could get any sleep.

Sleep has never been easy for me. My mind runs and gallops when I try to wind down—at this point, I hope it picks a good hole to fall into. Last night, thinking about Zack and me and how we might pull this off, was one of the best scenarios as far as my brain getting stuck.

It was me, placing my hand on his front, feeling the soft fabric of his Versace shirt on his hard muscles. His hand reached around and landed on the top of my hip, his fingers moving back and forth, almost like he was getting comfortable. Then it was him, looking at me, his eyes the perfect shade of blue. Only for a few fleeting seconds but it felt like he was peeking at the corners of myself, the ones I keep tucked back.

He was really looking at me .

I let out a breath, keeping my face neutral in front of Tripp and Willow. Keeping myself as unbothered as possible is key to the two of them letting this go.

“Everything will be the same. Except the randoms won’t be sitting at our table. And Zack and I will hold hands and sit by each other, things like that.”

Tripp lets out a laugh, one I’m grateful for. “No randoms for Zack? After the off-season he had? Nothing will be the same.” He bumps into Willow’s shoulder.

My skin prickles, and I roll my shoulders—up, down, and back—trying to release the tightness. I reach for my iced coffee, needing a drink to swallow past whatever is stuck in my throat.