Faking It To Survive
Chapter 9

Rose

So, this is what it feels like to have friends. I keep looking around Lisa’s dining room where I’m having Saturday brunch with her and her two friends; Portia, a plus-sized redhead, and Wendy, a freckled blonde.

I listen to their conversation and can’t help but laugh whenever they say something funny. I feel oddly at home here. I don’t feel awkward or uneasy at all. Did Ryan put a spell on me?

I might have gone to bed deliriously happy after my outing with Ryan, but I never expected to wake up still feeling the same way. I played music on my early morning run for the first time, and I ran to the wonderful beat of each song filling my ears. Not even the usual daily email could bring me down.

The minute I got back to my apartment, I found Lisa at my door, waiting to invite me to brunch. So, here I am, wearing the most colorful dress I own.

I couldn’t even believe the way I looked in the mirror. I really am beautiful, and thinking that doesn’t bother me at all. Am I really this happy, vibrant person?

Now I’m sitting here, surrounded by women just like me, and talking about shoes, fashion, and men. Everything seems normal for once in my life, and that feels good. I can definitely get on board with this.

“What about you, Rose?” Portia asks. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

All three of them lean forward and stare at me while they wait for me to answer.

I shake my head, but I can’t stop my cheeks from burning. “No, I don’t.”

They all sigh in disappointment.

“That’s a shame,” Portia remarks. “You’re so pretty.

I don’t know what prompts me to say it. Maybe something in the air today is making me act in a way I consider normal. “I’ve actually never really had a boyfriend,” I admit.

Their eyes widen, and they stare back at me in disbelief.

“Not even a fling or a crush?” Wendy asks.

My mind immediately switches to Ryan. I do not have a crush on Ryan. We’re just friends.

I refuse to think about what almost happened between us on the dance floor. I spent way too much time thinking about it last night before I finally fell asleep. It didn’t mean anything. It was just the heat of the moment. We got caught up in the music, the dancing, the energy from the club … and we were drinking. That must have been it. There’s nothing going on between me and Ryan, no matter how much my heart flutters when I think about him.

“No,” I reply. “No flings or crushes.”

Lisa clears her throat and exchanges glances with the other two before she starts to study me with full-blown, scientific curiosity. “So …. are you a virgin?” she whispers the last word like it’s something shameful and dirty.

Portia and Wendy gasp and lean even closer to listen to my response.

This time around, I manage to stop myself from blurting out every single personal detail of my personal life. Cold sweat bursts out on my palms and back. My throat seizes up, and my mouth goes dry. I have to struggle to hold the dark memories at bay.

How do I explain that I’ve never had a boyfriend, fling, or crush, but that I’m not a virgin? How do I tell them how my life went wrong overnight without suffering their judgment, revulsion, or worse—their pity? How do I tell them that the person who should have protected me was the one who ended up causing me harm?

I shut my eyes and count to ten the way my therapist told me to when I get these panic attacks. By the time I open my eyes, the three women aren’t even looking at me anymore. They’ve all got their eyes glued to Wendy’s phone.

“Um, Rose? What did you say your new job is again?” Lisa asks.

My gut clenches. Something’s wrong here. I feel it. I’m about to walk into a trap, but I can’t tell yet what it is.

“I never told you,” I reply. “I work as a personal trainer for an MMA fighter.”

I don’t tell them Ryan’s name. I’m not sure I want them to know. They’ve been gushing over male celebrities since I first walked in the door. They’d go crazy if they knew I’ve been training Ryan Baker. He’s every woman’s dream.

“Does this MMA fighter happen to be Ryan Baker?” Lisa asks.

My stomach plummets into my shoes. Run. Run away now.

However, I can’t move. I’m frozen to my seat.

“Yes. How did you …?”

All three of them raise their heads to stare at me at the same time.

“There’s a picture of you all over social media.” Wendy turns the phone toward me.

I stare at the picture of me and Ryan hugging in the club parking lot. It felt so right at the time. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.

My world crumbles when I see the comments beneath the picture. This is the worst disaster yet … and now this picture is out there in front of the whole world. Everyone can see it—including him.

I can’t sit still any longer. I rocket to my feet and knock the chair over in my rush to get out of Lisa’s apartment. Then I slam the door behind me, but not before I hear Portia say, “I can’t believe she lied to us about having a boyfriend.”

I charge out of the building, on my way to the bus station. I have to stop this. I have to get that picture off the internet before he sees it. But it might already be too late.

I barrel into Travis’s office building, but I don’t find Travis in his office or he or Ryan in the gym. I race back to the receptionist’s desk and get in Billie’s face.

“Where’s Travis? Where’s Ryan?”

“I can’t tell you—”

“Where are they?” I roar.

She cringes in her seat, shaking like a leaf.

I don’t have time for this. I pull out my phone with shaking hands and call Ryan.

“Howdy,” he answers.

“Where are you?” I demand.

“I’m … at home. Why?”

“Give me directions to your house right now!” I bellow. “Now, Ryan!”

He must already know about the picture because he doesn’t sound shocked by my tone at all. He doesn’t hesitate to give me his address, either.

I hail a taxi and ride to Ryan’s apartment building. I hardly notice when I walk into the most gorgeous and extravagant lobby and the concierge comes over to greet me. He smiles politely and waves me toward the elevator.

“Mr. Baker’s apartment is on the top floor—the penthouse. He’s expecting you, Ms. Bloom.”

I gape at him when he holds the elevator doors open for me, but I have more important things to think about it.

The ride upstairs takes forever before the doors finally open into a massive living room. Ryan and Travis both turn to look when the elevator dings.

“Rose …” Ryan begins. “I can explain.”

“I don’t care about your explanations! I want my picture gone yesterday!”

I turn to Travis. “I don’t care what you do or who you buy off. Just get my picture erased—now! Is that clear?”

Travis raises both hands. “I’m sorry this is happening, but it’s all your fault—both of you.”

“Excuse me?” I roar. “You are unbelievable!”

“Travis …” Ryan interrupts.

“You two should have been more careful. What did you think was going to happen after doing something like that in public where anyone could see you?”

“Doing something like what? We were just hugging! It’s the twenty-first century, for crying out loud. So what if I was hugging a friend? What is the big deal?”

“It isn’t just a friendly hug when it comes to Ryan. He has a reputation, especially with the ladies. People are going to jump to conclusions, and once they saw you two like that, the next logical step is for them to automatically put two and two together and decide you two are in a secret relationship. The worst of it is that they know you’re his personal trainer.”

I glare at Ryan. “It’s your fault. You’re the one who can’t keep it in your pants, and now all of New York thinks I’m your latest flavor of the month.”

“Watch it,” he fires back. “I can keep it in my pants.”

“That is so not the point!” I yell back. “I told you last night—”

“Enough!” Travis thunders. “I can’t believe this is happening right now. This ruins my whole plan to change the narrative on your previous scandal. How are we supposed to get people to believe you’re in a committed relationship when you were just photographed having a moment with your personal trainer?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

Ryan snaps his fingers, and his eyes pop. “Hey! I got it! Maybe your plan could still work, Travis.”

“How?” Travis asks.

I look back and forth between the two of them. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

Neither of them hear me.

“What if, instead of picking one of these women”—Ryan points to some discarded glossy photographs on the table—“I pick her?” Ryan’s eyes swivel over to me.

Travis’s expression clears, and his eyes widen to stare at me with the same astounded expression.

“Will somebody please tell me what the hell it is you two are talking about?” I snap. “What are you choosing me for?”

Ryan comes toward me and rests both hands on my shoulders. “How would you like to be my fake girlfriend, Rose?”

“Are you insane!” I screech, and his smile evaporates.