Faking It To Survive
Chapter 7

Rose

“Hello, friend,” the voice says from the other end of the phone. “How would you like to have some fun with me tonight?”

Ryan’s voice sounds strange coming through the speaker. He sounds nothing like he sounds in person. Talking to someone on the phone feels so foreign when I mostly use it to check my email.

“How did you get this number?” I ask.

“I wanted to talk to you, and then I realized I didn’t have your number. Then I thought to myself, ‘What kind of person doesn’t have his friend’s number?’So, I asked Travis for the one you put on your application form.”

I almost giggle at his explanation, but I hold myself back. It’s been two days since I agreed to be friends with Ryan, and he hasn’t once let me forget it.

The moment I arrive at the gym each day for his training lessons, he engulfs me in a huge bear hug that lifts me off my feet. He’s always calling me, “Friend,” instead of my name, and he constantly refers to it during our training sessions.

He surprised me the first time he hugged me like that, and I didn’t get the usual urge to peel his hands off me. So, I let him do it a second time. Now it just makes me secretly happy that I can finally tolerate someone’s touch, even if it’s Ryan’s.

Being friends with Ryan is different, or maybe it just feels that way because it’s been so long since I had a friend. He still flirts shamelessly, but he never crosses the line. It’s all in good fun.

Our interactions have become so seamless I feel oddly at ease around him—much more so than when we first met. I don’t find his larger-than-life personality annoying anymore, and that charming grin of his doesn’t irritate me as much, but that doesn’t stop me from kicking his a*s in the ring.

“So, what do you say, best friend?” he asks. “You and me … tonight … at my favorite club?”

I shove the last piece of pizza into my mouth before walking toward my bed and plopping down on it. “So, we’re best friends now?”

“Yes, of course. So, what do you say? Don’t leave me hanging. The suspense is killing me.”

I can just picture his big, blue, puppy dog eyes, the same ones he uses when he wants to get out of running laps.

“I don’t do clubs. It’s not my style.”

“Come on!” Ryan chides, and I roll my eyes. For a twenty-eight-year-old man, he can be pretty silly at times. “It will be fun. I promise. Besides, I’ll be right by your side all night. Nothing will happen. Come on. Do it for me. I’m bored, and I need someone to go out with.”

“I don’t know …” The last time I went to a club, I ended up shattering some biker club president’s nose for getting too handsy with me. Thankfully, the bouncers intervened before the situation escalated any further than that.

“Trust me on this, Rose. You hardly ever go out. Let’s change that today. Please say yes.”

I sigh and think it over for what seems like hours but is really just a few seconds. Ryan is right. I never go out, except on my morning runs, to the café near Travis’s building, to the gym, and then back home.

Ever since I accepted this job as Ryan’s trainer, I’ve found myself doing things I never thought I would, like agreeing to be Ryan’s friend.

Part of me wants to go out and cut loose for once without worrying about the demons from my past. The other part of me dreads it, crippling me with fear, but I can’t let that rule my life. I promised myself when I ran away to never let what happened define me. I didn’t run away so I would live for the rest of my life in fear. I ran so that I could be free.

“All right,” I tell him. “I’ll go out with you.”

I giggle when he lets out a loud whoop.

“If I had known being your friend was going to be this exhausting, I never would have agreed to any of this,” I tease.

“Oh, please!” he fires back. “You love being my friend!”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

He chuckles. “Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

My b***d runs cold at those words. Ryan’s friend and him having my phone number is one thing, but my apartment is my sanctuary. I’m not ready to let him into it yet. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but this is just too much. I’m not ready to let him into my life that much … not yet.

I change the subject really quick and pray to high heaven that he doesn’t catch on. “How about I meet you at the café? I was thinking about grabbing dinner before you called. You can pick me up there.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second then says, “No problem. I’ll be there.”

My heart skips a beat at his tone, but not in a bad way. Just knowing he’ll be there for me makes my stomach flip.

I squash that feeling down hard. I can’t let myself feel that, or feel anything else for him. I can’t let Ryan work his charm on me. That’s the last thing I need.

We hang up, and I get busy. I crack open my suitcase on my bed, looking for something appropriate to wear. I finally pull out a figure-hugging, black mini-dress that I once bought on impulse but have never worn.

I pull it out and smile when I hold it against my body. What would it be like if I showed up at a club with Ryan wearing this? Would he like it just as much as I do? Or maybe even more?

That thought doesn’t last, and my smile turns upside down. Since when do I care whether Ryan likes the way I dress?

I shove the dress back into my suitcase. I’m not going on a date. I have to keep reminding myself of that. We’re just two friends hanging out. I am definitely not going on a date.

I pull out a pair of high-waisted blue jeans and a black crop top instead. Then I finish the outfit with a leather jacket and ankle boots. I pull my hair out of its loose knot, brush it down, and let it fall down my back. Now I look good enough to go to a club but not good enough that someone will mistake me for going on a date.

I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Maybe it’s the way I’m dressed or the excitement bubbling up inside me, but I look different, more refreshed.

I get a wild idea and throw caution to the wind. I go back to my suitcase, dig out the tube of red lipstick buried in the bottom, take it back to the bathroom, and apply it to my lips.

Now I really don’t recognize myself. I look nothing like my idea of myself. Am I really as … as feminine as this?

I get unnerved by what I see. I can’t look at myself like this, so I go back to my bedroom, grab my purse, and lock my apartment door on my way out.

Throughout the bus ride to the café, I’m overwhelmed by nerves and suddenly feel too self-conscious. My usual tank top and sweatpants are armor, I realize now. And despite being dressed in an outfit that covers my body, I feel strangely exposed.

I contemplate turning back and heading home, thinking maybe this was a mistake, but then the bus stops and there’s no longer any time to rethink my decision.

I head into the café and find Ryan already there, waiting.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered for you,” he tells me when I sit down in front of him.

He watches me much too closely while I dig into my food. Is he as disturbed by my look as I am?

Neither of us says anything until we leave the café.

“Where exactly is this club of yours?” I ask.

“You’ll see.” He stops next to a sleek, black Bentley parked at the curb, opens the passenger door, and then stands back, eyeing me. I guess I’m supposed to let him be chivalrous.

I get in and face forward while he fires up the engine. It doesn’t take long to realize he’s driving into the best part of the city. This is nothing like my neighborhood. Even before we reach the high-end club, I already know it’s not going to be anything like the places I’ve been before.

Ryan parks the car, jumps out to open my door for me, and extends his hand for me to take. I wind up taking it before I realize that I probably shouldn’t be doing that, but it’s too late now.

“Prepare to be dazzled,” Ryan tells me on our way to the club entrance.

The sign over the doorway reads, “Club Exotica.” Thumping music and flashing neon lights engulf us as we enter a lounge full of all kinds of people—rich people. Really rich people. Everyone is dressed up in expensive outfits, and I spot a popular actress and her friends getting a smoking lap dance from a deliciously ripped man.

Ryan leads me to a booth where two A-list models occupy the booth next to us. Blue leather chairs form a curve around a glass-enclosed stage with strippers of both sexes performing behind the glass. The bar counter covers one end of the room with shirtless, muscled bartenders performing tricks while giggling ladies look on. A magnificent, layered chandelier overhead flashes purple, green, pink, blue, and orange lights in all directions. A sexy, beautifully dressed woman sings in a language I don’t understand on another stage away from the strippers.

This club reeks of s*x, leather, excitement, allure, and so much more. It gets me excited in mysterious ways I haven’t let myself feel in a long time. Now I know why Ryan wanted to bring me here. I’ve been locked in a prison of my own making for way too long.

“Welcome to Club Exotica, Rose.” He beams at me from across the table, and I find myself grinning right back at him. This feels good. It feels like I’m coming back to life after being mummified in a cocoon of fear.

He waves down one of the scantily clad waitresses cruising between the tables. “I’ll have a beer,” he tells her.

“Boring!” I scoff. “You didn’t come here to drink beer, did you?

“Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m far from boring, but tonight is all about you. Besides, I have to drive you home later when you’re so trashed you can’t even walk.”

I laugh, but before I can make another smart-a*s remark, he leans across the table and takes my hand. “So, what does the lady want to drink?”

“A long island iced tea,” I tell the waitress. She starts to walk away, and I call after her, “And keep them coming!”

I check out all the activity on the dance floor and pretend not to notice the way Ryan is looking at me. I told myself in the strictest terms that I wasn’t going on a date with him. Now it sure looks like he thinks he’s on a date with me.

The waitress comes back with our drinks, and I take a massive gulp. I need to loosen my inhibitions or my doubts will take over. I am already fighting myself to stay in the booth and not run back to my safe little apartment.

I look up to find Ryan gaping at me. His eyes dart from me to my now half-empty drink.

“What?” I ask.

He bursts out laughing and takes a sip of his beer. “Nothing. I’m just absolutely loving this version of Rose.” He holds out his hand again. “Come dance with me, friend.” He puts extra emphasis on the word “friend,” and his sparkling blue eyes tell me he means exactly the opposite.

I throw caution to the wind and take his hand. Just like that, we head to the dance floor and start dancing to the singer’s intoxicating song.

I’ve only ever danced with my mother when I was ten. Dancing with Ryan feels so different. He dances so fluidly that we seem to be in sync with each other. It doesn’t even matter that I’m a terrible dancer. He leads me perfectly to the flow of the song.

All at once, the tempo suddenly kicks up a notch to something driving and dangerous. My eyes lock with Ryan’s when, without warning, he pulls me into his arms. My pulse quickens when we’re chest to chest, face to face. This means something more—something powerful. No one could mistake this for friendly.

He twirls me in a wild sweep that makes my head swim. Then he pulls me back into his embrace with such power and intensity that I want to surrender myself to him right here on the dance floor. I forget everything and everyone else. Only this moment matters.

The music dies, and we stop swaying, but neither of us looks away. We just stand still and stare into each other’s eyes.

My lips part, and my eyes dart down to his mouth. Is he going to k**s me right now? I really want him to.

He tenses, and his arms clasp me tighter. He leans down, and my heart flutters in anticipation of what’s about to happen.

At that moment, something rams into us, and an unstoppable force jerks us apart.

“Hey!” Ryan yells. “Watch it!”

We both turn around, and I stare at the hulking figure squaring up to confront us. I’d know that crooked nose anywhere. It’s the biker club leader whose nose I broke, and he has two equally giant henchmen with him.

“Hello, sweet thing,” he snarls at me. “Didn’t I say we’d meet again?”

“It looks to me like you didn’t get enough the first time, so you just had to come back for more,” I reply.

“What is going on here?” Ryan asks. “Do you two know each other?”

“Your lady here broke my nose, and she’s going to pay for it,” the dude growls.

He takes one menacing step toward me, and I react in an instant. I grab the nearest stranger, shove the startled person between me and the biker dude, snatch Ryan’s hand, and run for it.

Ryan doesn’t ask any questions. He runs after me, and we lose ourselves in the crowd. I don’t stop running, and I don’t let go of Ryan’s hand until we get all the way back out to the parking lot. By the time we reach his car, we are both laughing maniacally.

“That was insane!” Ryan laughs out, and then his eyes light up when our eyes meet. He goes serious, but his eyes won’t stop gleaming with hidden meaning. “You look absolutely stunning,”

I can’t look away from his hypnotic gaze and, without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him.

I feel myself getting overwhelmed with excitement and emotion, and my doubts overtake me. I pull away, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to offend him, but I can’t explain why I don’t want to keep hugging him, because I do want to keep hugging him. I want to do more. I just … I don’t know what I want. But I do.

But I don’t.

I shake my head in confusion. I still can’t come up with the words to explain what’s happening to me.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls open the passenger door, steers me into the seat, and drives off back across town.

I simmer in confusion on the drive back to the café. I don’t know what to tell him, so I finally decide to tell him to drop me at the bus station a few miles away from my apartment.

He still doesn’t ask any questions. He just waves at me with a big smile on his face when he drops me off.

I take my time walking the rest of the way home and find myself humming one of my mother’s lullabies. I haven’t done that in a long time.

I don’t know what happened to me tonight, but I feel good about it. I’m happy, which isn’t something I’m used to.

I climb the stairs to my apartment building and run into Lisa on the way.

“Hey, Lisa,” I call when she walks past me. “We should hang out sometime.”

Her jaw drops, and I almost laugh at how comical she looks.

I skip past her and up the stairs, going into my apartment without saying another word. I lock all the locks in their usual places, but I don’t feel anything but pure happiness.