Page 61 of Fake Crown

The rest of Friday and most of Saturday pass in a blur of color palettes and window treatments. I went home to sleep, but other than that, I’ve had my nose to the grindstone. It didn’t help that when I did go home, Brent’s absence felt palpable. He’s slithered his way into my daily routine.

As soon as I was awake and showered, I got out of the apartment and came back to the library this morning. At least when I’m here, I’m not half-expecting Brent to show up with a latte, strip me down, and make me feel all ooey-gooey inside. Even if that’s exactly what he did on Friday. Despite my mountain of work as a distraction, I haven’t felt like myself since the door clicked shut on Friday.

Life just isn’t quite the same without my lattes and orgasms.

When there’s a knock on my study room door, I unlock it to find Nadiya on the other side. “Your dedication to your studies is killing me. Are you almost done?”

I turn and make a ta-da motion at my laptop and my notes strewn across my desk. “Probably another three hours of work.”

“Excellent,” she says, and she produces a bag from behind her back. “You can do those tomorrow, and you can come to the pub with me.”

I accept the gym bag from her, and I peer inside to find jeans and a crop top. Not exactly the shirt I would have selected for a pub when it’s December, but at least she brought me a change of clothes.

“Why are we going to a pub?” I drop the bag on the floor, and I shove my notes in my messenger bag along with my laptop.

“West is going there with some buddies from the lacrosse team.”

“So, are you and West...” She said their talk went okay last week, but the two of them are as different as night and day. They have nothing in common, and I don’t even think the sex was that great. Chemistry can’t be faked, and I’m not sure either of them truly feel it together.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Probably not. I can’t seem to let him go.” She gives me a helpless shrug.

I throw both bags over my shoulder, and then I put my other arm around her. “Then maybe we shouldn’t go to a pub, we should go to a club. And we should get you someone new.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” Nadiya bites her lip.

“Won’t know until you try. Let’s go home and form a better plan.”

I’ve rallied the troops, and in the Uber on the way to the club, I finally get a chance to read the messages Brent sent me earlier today. The idea of reading them while trying to organize a night out didn’t sit right with me, so while the car glides through the city streets, I bask in his day. He knew I had my phone off, so he sent me stream-of-consciousness diary entries. Some of them are hilarious.

“What’s that smile for?” Nadiya asks. “Faulkner message you? You look like that when he’s around.”

“Look like what?”

“Happy.” She rubs my shoulder.

He and I have spent so much time together that I haven’t analyzed or even considered how being around him makes me feel. It’s strange to think people see something in me that I hadn’t even realized myself. I text him back about my project and going out to a bar.

Within a few minutes, he texts me back a string of shot glasses and then tells me to be careful. Asks me to text him when I get back to the apartment, so he knows I’m safe.

“He’s like,” I say, “a really good guy.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I’ve always hung out with assholes before who were marginally good in bed. He’s great in bed, and he’s also...” I hesitate because this feels dangerous. “He’s also great to me.”

“Have you told him that you think he’s a gem?”

“No, no, no, no, no.” I wag my finger. “We’re fake. I will not be the one who gets confused about that.”

“You keep lying to yourself and you’ll find your great guy with his great sex will find someone who appreciates him more.”

“I appreciate him. I always thank him for the lattes and the orgasms.” Well, the lattes, anyway. If I thanked him for the orgasms that’d be weird.

“Might be worth mentioning to him that he could be your real boyfriend instead of being this fake one.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“You already have one.” Nadiya huffs out a breath. “Denying it doesn’t make it untrue. He’s your boyfriend. Everything he says and does around you is boyfriend-like. The temple kisses, the top-of-the-head kisses, the way he slings his arm around your shoulders and gazes at you adoringly. I don’t know if he’s cracked out the L-word, but I bet he’s close to unsealing that one. He’s going to pop your love cherry.”