Rocky
Decker's voice from across the room wakes me from my sleep. His side of the bed is still warm, but he's not in it. What's worse is the worried look on his face.
"What's wrong?" I ask, sitting up, fully alert, my heart kicking.
The longer Decker stares at his phone, the bigger the pit forming in my stomach becomes.
"I… We…" He shakes his head and looks up at me.
"It's okay. Whatever it is. You can tell me, ba—"
Baby.
For the second time in less than twelve hours, I manage to catch the word and wrangle it all the way down the back of my throat. Our arrangement was for a one-night thing only, and I have every intention of honoring that.
For now.
"We were—" His phone rings. "Shit. I have to take this. Sorry. Hey, Zane… Yeah. I just saw it… What? Of course not… Are you…smiling?… No, it isn't. It's a colossal mess… Yes, you'll get paid either way… I'll call you in a few minutes, okay?… Okay, okay, okay, bye."
I have no idea what's going on, so I wait for Decker to fill me in. He walks over and sits gingerly at the foot of the bed.
"We were snapped together last night. It completely slipped my mind that I'd tipped off Steve, my favorite paparazzo. One of the decent ones who always keeps his distance so the subject doesn't even know he's there."
"What does this mean?" I ask. "Does it affect the PR plan?"
"Yes and no." Decker lifts his thumb to his mouth and chews on the skin around the nail. "The fake dating thing is still on, but we're going to have to make one almighty pivot."
"Which is?"
He stops chewing his thumb and lifts his gaze to mine. "You're going to have to fake date me."