Chapter Twenty-One - Kayla
Kayla
Idon”t even know how I made it home. I think I waved down a taxi at the event location, and then the next time I snap back to reality, I am already sitting in my living room, thoughts spiraling around the evening.
No, not the evening. Asher.
When I”m lucky enough to marry her.
When.
That”s not good. Or is it? It would feel better if I didn’t know that he only said it as a way to stick it to that weirdo.
Either way, the whole evening was too much for me. I sat there and felt like I couldn”t breathe, expectations from all sides weighing down on me like one of those rooms from my nightmares where the walls close in on me.
I”ll probably never know what could have been between us now and that makes hot tears spill down my cheeks. Fuck. I just knew I’d get my hopes up for nothing yet again.
Something might have shifted in the past weeks, but talking about fucking marriage? While we”re fake-dating?
He can”t be serious.
Discussing marriage is not in the realm of things to do when you”re fake-dating someone. Hell, even if we were actually dating, it would have been way too early to talk about it.
Truthfully, the fact that he introduced me to his parents went too far already. So much further than this whole game should have ever gotten. I can’t believe I didn’t put my foot down from the beginning.
That”s girlfriend level. Not fake-girlfriend-level. Which means it”s not my place.
His family is not my place. As lovely as Jade is, or Ellis, I never should have met them. Not for this fucking three-month stint we had planned, which now ended up being barely two.
Eight weeks. Eight weeks was all it took for him to wear my resolve down. To invite himself into my heart as if he owned the fucking place, then tore it down from the inside where I couldn’t stop him.
My panic might have taken over, but I had to make the cut. And I had to make it now.
Because if it hurts that much now, I can’t imagine how bad it would have become had I let it go on for even longer.
Looking back, we should have just broken it off when Millie and Luca became public. Taking the chance to distract the media even further, maybe that would have saved all of us a lot of heartache.
We could have just stopped showing up everywhere together. Let the fans speculate and news fizzle out after the match. I bet nobody would have cared.
But now? It”s way too late to end it without a fuzz. I”m pretty sure pictures from the charity dinner were sent right to the highest bidder and now there will be gossip around our break-up whether we like it or not.
I get up and start pacing my living room, wiping the tears off my face. Touring with Millie made me take on that pacing habit after a while. And my living room is really perfect for pacing, I can walk circles right around my couch as I try to sort my thoughts and bite the skin next to my thumbnail.
Well, at least until I hear a loud knock on my door.
I walk over there on tiptoes, shrugging off my high heels that I”m apparently still wearing but am only just now noticing. Thank God this part of the living room is carpeted. I want to check who’s there first before confirming my presence.
A relieved sigh fogs up my door spy when I see it”s Millie who’s standing in front of my door with her arms crossed in front of her chest.
”Open up, Kayla. I know you”re home.” She doesn’t sound as angry as she looks. I take a deep breath and force a mask on my face. All I want to do is drown in self-pity, but now that Millie is here, I know she won’t let that happen.
”What are you, a mind reader?” I open the door for her, and she struts right past me. ”Damn. What”s up?”
”What”s up is that you”re again bottling everything up instead of fucking talking,” she scolds me exasperatedly and kicks her shoes into a corner before she heads straight for my kitchen and takes a bottle of champagne out of my fridge, pushing it against my chest. ”Open this.”
I”m getting whiplash from the way she changes topics, but I do as she asks, carefully trying to pry the cork out of the bottle without having it dart against the ceiling and getting a champagne shower. Which I”ve only learned recently is not, in fact, what a ”golden shower” is. Very good knowledge to have.
I sigh, relieved, when the cork is finally out and head to my kitchen to find two glasses.
”Skip the glasses and come here,” she shouts when I open my cupboard and I turn around on my heels.
Angry Millie is scary.
When I come into sight, champagne bottle clutched to my chest, she pats the couch next to her, signaling for me to sit down.
The two of us must be a sight to behold. Dressed to the nines while hanging out on a couch barefoot and sipping expensive champagne straight from the bottle. We should make a music video of that.
She takes a huge swig, and then motions for me to take a sip as well. I gulp the prickly liquid down and wipe a drop from the corner of my mouth before I hand the bottle back to her.
”Trying to get me drunk?” I raise my eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t seem too impressed at my attempt to lighten the mood.
”Makes your tongue looser,” she says with a wink and takes a smaller sip this time. ”And it”s past time we”ve had a semi-comfortable conversation. Well, what I assume is going to be semi-comfortable for you.”
”Which is?” I reach for the bottle again and take a greedy sip. If she announces it like this, I need more alcohol.
”First off, I”m sorry.” She takes the bottle out of my hands and places it on the ground, then turns to me, pulling her leg onto the couch and leaning her elbow onto the backrest and her chin into her hand.
I blink, confused. Whiplash, once again.
”I was so caught up in Luca and what was happening between us that I didn”t pay as much attention to you as I should have,” she admits, and I see her gulp. ”I never wanted to be the woman who neglects her friends once she got a new boyfriend. I”m so sorry for not being there more. And I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about your fake relationship.”
”It”s fine,” I say softly and wave her off. ”After all, we fabricated it this way so the two of you would have time together.”
”Which brings me to what I”m actually angry about.” Her voice gets more heated, and she purses her lips in a pout. ”Don”t do this kind of shit again. Don”t play martyr, or at least fucking talk to me beforehand.” She takes another swig from the bottle as she talks herself into a rage. ”You”re my best friend. I like you way too much for you to pull this kind of stuff and hurt yourself as a consequence.”
”I mean I didn”t know it would end up with me hurting—” I start, but she cuts me off with an eye roll and deep sigh.
”Oh, please. You read romance novels. You know how the fake dating trope works out.”
Well, she”s got me there.
”I really thought I could do it,” I reiterate, making her glare at me. ”Honestly.” I raise my hand, palm facing her. ”I swear. You know me and my ‘oh, that sounds easy’ syndrome.”
”But why didn”t you tell me?” Her voice breaks and she suddenly looks more hurt than angry. ”It would have been so much more fun to be in this together. You could have talked to me instead of, again, internalizing everything. Like what”s going on with Starlet Sounds, why did you never tell me you wanted out and what was actually going on?”
”Because I was really fucking scared you’d hate me,” I admit and look down, unable to meet her eyes. “They promised they’d change.” Now I know that was a lie. Naroa”s niceness just distracted from the shitshow up above her pulled on us. ”But you”re right. I should have talked to you instead of springing everything on you now. I”m sorry.”
”Good. You should be.” She scrunches her nose. I reach for the bottle on the ground to take another small sip.
”Now, back to you and Asher.”
”There”s no ”me and Asher” anymore,” I object, and she puts her hand over my mouth to shush me.
”Respectfully, fuck you. Please be honest with me now or I”ll really be angry.” I shut up immediately at the hurt in her voice. ”Because I hate to see you hurting and I don”t want Asher to hurt either. He might be annoying, but overall, he”s a good dude and you know it. So tell me. You said you two did some not so fake things. Was it like with Josh? Scratching an itch?”
I grimace when she brings up Josh and shake my head vehemently, without even thinking about it. ”No, it wasn”t like with Josh.”
”Was it better?” She wriggles her eyebrows, then giggles when I narrow my eyes at her. ”I”m just kidding.” She suddenly turns serious again. Just how much did she have to drink at the dinner? ”Seriously though. Do you like him?”
I roll the words over in my head and, for once, really pay attention. I’ve noticed the butterflies when I think about him.
What I didn’t notice until now is the warmth surrounding my heart. The lightness in my stomach when I think of him. The way it tugs at the corners of my lips without conscious thought.
”Yes, I like him,” I admit, my throat hurting as I speak past the emotion sitting in my esophagus like a piece of meat I didn”t chew properly.
”Do you more than like him? Does he make your heart flutter when he’s close, make you blush, and you can”t stop thinking about him all the time?”
Warmth rushes to my cheeks and I nod, directing my eyes anywhere but her.
”And you don”t want to date for real because . . . why?”
I take a moment to think about her question and shake my head. ”It doesn’t matter, Millie, because he doesn”t even like me like that.”
”Well, he told me something different, so give me your next argument.”
My eyes shoot to her. What?
”What did he tell you?” I ask her, eyes wide in shock, but she shakes her head.
”I”m not telling you; you’ll have to ask him yourself. Now give me your next argument. I”m sure you have one.”
I take another second to think. ”I”m not a family type of gal, but he”s a family type of man. It wouldn’t work out.”
”Oh, shut up,” she all but spits with an eye roll. ”You”d be a family type of gal if you”d allow yourself to be one. My parents are all but ready to adopt you if you want to, but I think you”re too scared.”
”I”m not scared of your family.” Her parents are lovely, and I like talking to them.
”That”s not what I mean.” She takes a pillow and hits me with it. ”You”re scared that another family will cast you aside.”
My blood runs cold, and I freeze at the realization.
Fuck. She”s right.
”Which is, like, completely understandable, don”t get me wrong, I get why you’re scared,” she continues and fiddles with the bottle in her hands. ”But all I”m saying is, you”re also missing out. There are so many people who want to love you, but you don’t let them. I”m glad you let me be here for you and smother you in friendship-love, but maybe try to open yourself up to a few more people in your heart?”
I gulp. ”But what if—”
”Then it happens. Life goes on, even if it sucks. And I dare say that all the people I have on my mind right now are not the kind of people you”d get rid of easily. I don”t think you”re even able to fuck up to a degree that would cause me, or Mom, or Dad to tell you to fuck off. And I think Asher feels the same.”
”Do you really think that?”
”Of course.” She sighs and scoots over. After a moment of hesitation, she opens her arms and I fall into them like a fucking child running to their mother after being spooked.
”It”s scary,” I mumble against her shoulder, and she nods. ”I don”t know how you do it.”
”No risk, no fun.” She laughs and I start to relax. ”Of course it”s scary. It will also never get easier. But the reward is worth it. Don”t you think Asher is?”
I nod against her shoulder. Deep inside, I knew that already. But I”m a coward.
Being out of my comfort zone is not something I do.
But Asher? He might just be worth taking the leap.
I drum my hands against the sparkling fabric of my dress as Millie and I drive over to Asher’s and Luca”s building. We haven”t changed out of our clothes, and I fear we look ridiculous, cheeks flush with alcohol and our makeup already migrating all over our faces.
Both of us look like pandas after that emotional conversation. And both of us don”t give a fuck. Even our driver seems more amused than weirded out.
Millie is tipsier than I am and grinning from ear to ear, knowing that she”ll spend the night at Luca”s place. And then there”s me, a ball of nervousness, ready to bolt at the slightest spook.
”Come on.” Millie takes my hand and pulls me out of her side of the car, giggling, as I have to awkwardly scoot over the middle seat and fight with my dress. Then she pulls me to the elevator, pushing the button without letting me go and holding onto my hand the whole ride up.
”I”m not going to bolt, you know?”
It’s only half a lie. Bolting sounds fucking tempting right about now.
”Suuure,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Sometimes I forget how well she knows me.
Shaking my head, I let her pull me after her when the doors open until we come to a stop in front of Luca”s door.
”Well, good luck,” she tells me and turns to her boyfriend’s apartment, her hand raised to knock on the door.
”Don”t try to spy on us through their shared wall,” I tell her, making her burst into a giggle. I can just see it, both of them pressing their ears to the wall to hear what’s going on.
”I would never.”
”You totally would, that”s why I”m saying it.” I wring my hands. Millie sighs and lowers her hand, putting it on my shoulder instead, and makes me walk over to the next door. Then she knocks on it and runs back to Luca”s apartment.
”You little—” I shout after her, but the curse I”m only now trying to think of gets stuck in my throat when Asher opens his door.
I gulp. He looks rough. His dress shirt is unbuttoned down to his navel, only half of his hair in his usual bun and eyes red-rimmed, cheeks flush with alcohol. His eyes drill into mine with an intensity I can”t handle without tearing up.
”Kayla?” His eyes grow wide in surprise, like he can’t quite believe I’m actually there.
I clear my throat before speaking, wringing my hands and evading his gaze by looking down at my feet. ”Hi. Can I come in?”
He steps aside wordlessly and opens the door a bit more so I can come inside. I trudge past him, swallowing down the emotion building in my throat when I catch a whiff of his scent.
I know Millie said he feels something for me. Well, she didn’t say it per se, but she heavily implied it. Whether I trust it is the next question.
Asher motions for me to take a seat on his couch and I sigh when I take off my shoes.
I”ve only put the high heels on for the short way here so I wouldn”t look like a complete buffoon. Evening dress and sneakers is not quite the high fashion the poor designer of this dress deserves as publicity.
Asher’s living room is messy, like he’s been kicking his pillows around, and a half-empty bottle of tequila is propped on his coffee table.
Without a word, Asher sits down next to me and leans down to grab my ankle. Before I can protest, he pulls it to his lap and starts giving my foot a light massage.
”I”m sorry,” I press out, my words making him look up and meet my eyes. ”I shouldn”t have run off like that. I was panicking.”
”Yeah, you shouldn”t have.” He lets go of my foot, but I leave it where it is, right in his lap.
I’m not a touchy kind of girl, but the thought of not being connected to him in some way during this conversation is making me fucking anxious. ”But let”s start from the beginning, shall we?”
”It was a kneejerk reaction,” I admit, wringing my hands and picking at my cuticles. ”All that talk about my family, meeting yours, someone mentioning starting a family . . . it messed with my head real bad.”
”Why?” His eyes meet mine and I lose all my thoughts. There are no excuses anymore, no way to run.
”Because I might . . . want that. With you. Maybe. Someday. And I’m not sure you want that. With me, I mean. That’s why I ran,” I ramble, dropping my gaze and biting my lip, my fingers digging into the fabric of my dress, but he reaches for my chin and makes me look up at him.
I blink away the tears building in my eyes and take a deep breath, my eyes darting over his face. His eyebrows are scrunched together, his fingers on my chin pinching just a tad too hard for comfort.
”You do?”
I nod and gulp, blinking past the sting in my eyes, my heart rate picking up when I can’t read the emotion washing over his face.
”For real?”
Another nod.
”Pinch me?” A teary grin tugs at my lips as I lift my hand and twist a bit of the skin on the back of his hand between my fingernails. ”Ouch. Thank you.”
”Anytime.”
We look at each other for a few seconds until he breaks the silence, his hand moving from my chin to my cupping my cheek.
”I”m falling in love with you, Kayla.” I blink, not able to hold back the tears anymore.
”I”m falling in love with you too, Asher,” I admit, not looking away as a tear overflows and runs down my cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb. ”So can we scratch the ”fake” from our relationship?”
”Sweetheart.” My chuckle turns into a sob at the nickname as his other hand moves to the back of my head, tangling in my hair. ”It hasn”t been fake to me for a while.” My eyes widen at his admission.
”Since when?”
”It”s hard to say,” he admits, his forehead wrinkling as he thinks back. ”I first realized it on your couch when we watched that true crime series thing.”
My mouth drops open. That long already?
”But it probably happened way before that. Maybe even when you told me where I could stick my apology,” he adds with a chuckle, and I just know my cheeks grow even redder. ”It doesn”t matter in the grand scheme. All that matters is that you”re here.”
And then his lips are on mine, and I could cry. Well, actually another tear is running down my face so I guess I am.
All the emotions I”ve been through this evening, all the feelings I have for this man, come together in an explosive kiss that I wish to never end.
My hands lock around his neck as I let him ravage my mouth in the best way, the taste of my champagne and his tequila mixing together as our tongues entangle.
”As much as I”d love to celebrate with my face buried in your cunt,” he whispers against my lips. ”I”m too drunk. And so are you.”
”Can I still sleep over?” I ask him and he nods eagerly. Taking my hand, he gets up, taking a second to regain his balance, before he pulls me along with him, stopping in front of his wardrobe to hand me one of his t-shirts. I throw it at his face and take one he”s worn yesterday from the infamous clothes chair in the corner of his bedroom.
We go through our bathroom routines in record speed. I tentatively wash the remainder of my makeup off with hand soap and brush my teeth, deciding to deal with everything else tomorrow.
And then we climb into his bed.
For a moment, I look at him. What do I do?
I”m not sure what goes and what not with this new level of our relationship, but he lays down like it”s the most normal thing in the world, extending his arm and beckoning me closer.
I scoot over and he motions for me to put my head on his arm, then pulls my arm around his chest, and reaches down to grab my thigh pull my leg over his, keeping his hand on it. I”m wrapped around him like a koala, and to my own surprise, I love it.
”Sweet dreams, Asher.”
He presses his lips against my temple, and I smile against his chest. ”Sweet dreams, Kayla.”