But if what I’m feeling is real…
If what I think he’s feeling is real…
Then no. That was beautiful. Meaningful. And so freaking hot I can’t believe it happened.
I work to untangle my twisting thoughts and wait too long to respond. Nathan misinterprets my silence. He drops his gaze. Shoulders slumped. Head nodding as if he understands what I haven’t said.
But he doesn’t.
He can’t.
Not when I don’t understand it myself yet.
“I don’t think that was a mistake,” I finally say, desperation speeding through my words.
Nathan steps in my direction, his eyes softening. “I don’t want it to be.”
“Me neither,” I say and mean it.
“Good.” A quick smile dashes across his face, filled with boyish, gleeful energy, and he pulls me in for one last kiss before he cracks open the door and slips outside.
I sag against the wall, staring at the stranger in the mirror. Her cheeks are flushed. Her lips swollen. Her eyes are wild, and her hair is a mess. I smooth it back into place, my gaze memorizing the path of Nathan’s mouth, gasping slightly when I find a purple mark on my breast. I trace it with my fingers and a shiver of pleasure sends goose bumps prickling across my skin.
“So that happened,” I whisper, and the stranger in the mirror grins.
“Hot damn, Meens!” Fallon turns to me with wide eyes. “This is the dress Nathan bought you?”
I meet her gaze through my vanity mirror. It was my grandmother’s, once upon a time. I like to imagine her sitting here on the bench-style chair, fussing with her hair in the mirror with the floral crown molding, pulling toiletries out of the drawers, fingers pinching the vintage ring-pull handles, maybe getting ready for her day, or maybe a night out with a hot date. I never got the chance to know my grandma, but sitting here, where she sat as a young woman, helps me feel connected.
Fallon lifts the dress from its place on my closet door and holds it against her body. “No wonder you had him on his knees. I’d be on my knees, and I prefer a little more penis in my relationships than you have to offer.”
“You promised we wouldn’t talk about that.”
I didn’t intend to tell Fallon what happened in the dressing room at Blush. I wanted to spend tonight with Nathan, to talk about where things are going, to get a feel for how we are together. I don’t need her thoughts and feelings tangling up with my thoughts and feelings and making this more difficult than it already is. But I had to explain the dress, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. The story needed out whether it was a good idea or not. Though I did make sure to remind her about best friend code, since the last time I didn’t, she published that stupid article about the day I spent on the water with Nathan and his cousins. Nothing in the story was bad—
I take that back.
The headline was downright cruel and a total violation of the trust I’ve placed in her.
I won’t make the mistake of sharing stories without invoking best friend code again.
“We need to talk about that.” Fallon hangs the dress back in place, the silk rippling through the air before settling. “First of all, do you know how many times I’ve had men give me an orgasm and call it a done deal? Just leave himself hanging? Never! Mina! The average male is too selfish for dressing room shenanigans like that.”
“Nathan wasn’t hanging, believe me.” I point my elbow at my crotch and extend my arm straight out to emulate his erection, eyes wide. “He was very much…and very big…”
I shake my head and run my fingers into my hair trying not to imagine the impressive erection. My nipples pebble and my lower belly clenches when I do it anyway. The low thrum of desire rolls through me, and Fallon lets out a long sigh.
“Which is why I have to bring up my second of all,” she says, perching on the edge of my bed, gripping the mattress like she’s afraid to fall off.
I pivot to meet her eyes, stomach dropping. Whatever she has to say isn’t a ‘through the mirror’ conversation. “Why do you have your bad news face on?”
Fallon looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Because this whole thing is bad news, Meens. Nathan said he doesn’t want to ‘pay you to date him.’” She makes air quotes and sneers as she drops her voice in a shitty imitation. “Does that mean you’re going back to your initial contract, with your original fee? Or are you still getting the extra money you negotiated to fake this relationship with him?”
I gape at my friend, trying to imagine how that conversation would go.
So, uh…I’m happy to date you but are you still gonna pay me for it, or what?
“How am I supposed to ask him something like that?”
“How can you not?” Fallon widens her eyes and scoffs. “You need that money! You’ve filled your design schedule with so many new clients I’m surprised you don’t sleep in your office. Even with that, you’re still considering a second job to pay for your mother’s medical expenses while he’s spending a small fortune on a dress you’ll never wear again. Not to mention, crossing sexual boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed if your relationship still has a predetermined end date.”
“You just went on a tirade about how amazing he was for what he did in the dressing room. Now it’s crossing a boundary?”
Her jaw drops and she huffs a harsh laugh. I’ve never seen her look so disappointed in me and I can’t for the life of me understand why.
“If you heard me call him amazing, you missed the point entirely.” Fallon stands and paces to a window, sneering at my dress before she crosses the room to kneel at my feet. “Men don’t act that way. Think, Meens. How many times has a guy done anything regarding sex if there wasn’t something in it for him?”
I arch a brow, inviting her to clarify her point. “Never for me, which is why I assumed the point of your tirade was to illustrate how awesome Nathan is.”
Fallon’s face falls. “Did it ever occur to you that he’s trying to make this relationship seem real so he can get out of paying you, only to break things off after he has what he needs?”
Now I’m the one huffing in disapproval. “Nathan isn’t like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Without a doubt.”
Fallon stands and runs her hands into her hair. “If he isn’t like that, then why did I say from the very beginning that you needed a protection plan in place? That Nathan West wouldn’t have your best interest at heart? Why did I want to write an article to use as leverage in case we ended up in a situation just like this one?”
“I didn’t agree with you then, and I don’t agree with you now. Nathan’s not that guy. In fact, you need to stop calling him a villain in your articles. Actually, you need to stop with your whole ‘make him realize how much he’s changed’ experiment. I get that you think you’re helping him, but it’s not working the way you want it to, and half the stuff you publish isn’t true in the first place.”
No matter how much Fallon wants it to be. As long as Nathan’s a womanizing villain, she has something to write about. The moment that’s not true, she’s the villain, profiting off lies. I almost say as much, but I’m not sure she’s thought that deeply about it and she sure isn’t prepared to think about it now.
“You need to talk to him.” Fallon drops back onto my bed, her eyes pleading with me to pay attention while she completely disregards my point. “And you need to do it with your bullshit detector on, so you catch any shady shit he’s throwing your way. Or hell, maybe I need to talk to him as an objective third party.”
“For one, you’re not objective and for two, he doesn’t know we’re friends.” I hang my head, feeling like an asshole. I keep meaning to tell him, but there’s enough going on between us without trying to broach the ‘My Best Friend Is Your Archenemy’ conversation.
Fallon’s entire body recoils as she objects to my objections. “And that matters, why?”
“Because your articles piss him off and I should have told him I know you a long time ago but haven’t found a good time yet. And, while I’m on the topic, please, please hear me and stop calling him a villain.”
If I’m not gonna be brave enough to tell him I’m friends with the blogger he calls a vulture, the least I can do is make sure she stops publishing lies.
“I’m glad I’m pissing him off! That’s the whole point!” Fallon shakes her head. “And the fact that you don’t feel like you can tell him about me, or your overfilled schedule, or your need for a second job, or ask a simple question about finances, that should tell you something. You’re in over your head. You’re too kind. Too genuine. You believe everyone operates like you and that just isn’t true.”
“You don’t know Nathan the way I do. You don’t know what happened or what he’s actually doing. He’s not a bad guy.”
