Chapter 7: The Fake Zone: Chapter 7

I dance, smile, and laugh until I forget about Green-eyes and the faint scratch left by him standing me up. It doesn’t matter. It was only going to be one night. I wasn’t that interested in him. Eventually, the songs start to bleed together, and we’re breathless and sweating.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” Hannah says, slumping into a chair as we finally take a break. “Why did I wear these shoes?” She stares accusingly at her elegant peep-toe shoes. For the past hour, she’s been my partner in crime. We don’t know each other super well, but the combination of alcohol and being single created a uniform bond that we were mutually happy to fulfill, especially when someone got too close or touchy.

“Those shoes deserve an award or a glass case. They’re gorgeous.”

She stretches her feet in front of her, admiring them. “Why does beauty hurt so much?”

Evelyn and Hudson appear, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists with smiles staining their features. “We’re going to head back to the hotel. Do you want to catch a ride with us?” Hudson asks.

“The night’s still early!” Hannah objects.

It’s past midnight. Hadley, Nolan, and Katie have already left.

“Your feet are killing you,” I remind her.

Hannah frowns at the reminder. “They are. Let me finish my drink, and then I’ll be ready.” Her gaze turns to the dance floor that hasn’t thinned since we arrived.

“I’ll stay with her. You guys can head back.”

“Are you sure?” Evelyn asks. “We don’t mind waiting. It’s getting kind of crazy.” The club is at capacity and hasn’t allowed anyone to come in for the past hour.

I nod. “Yeah. I’ll text you when we leave.”

Evelyn hooks the back of my neck with her elbow, pulling me in for a hug. “Corey and Palmer are still here if you need anything.”

“I’ll keep my eye out for them.”

We watch them walk away.

“He’s cute.” Hannah points, but with so many people, I don’t know who she’s referring to. “Maybe we should have one more drink.”

“Maybe we should take a rain check?”

Hannah frowns, but her exhaustion is apparent with her sunken shoulders and long blinks. “I haven’t gone out since my ex drugged me with a disgusting pumpkin cookie. I’m not ready for a one-night stand, but I want to wake up feeling a little dehydrated to remember I had fun tonight.”

Guilt lances through me, reminding me why trust is so fragile and becoming obsolete. “Let’s get one final drink.”

She beams, climbing to her feet before grimacing. “Damn, my feet hurt. Okay, maybe we go back to the hotel and have a final drink there. They have a martini bar.”

Her optimism is contagious.

We don’t have to request a car because a line of them is outside, waiting to take people home.

“Where are we heading, ladies?” a bald man asks. His car smells strongly of men’s cologne, and his stereo’s too loud, but I keep those details to myself and recite the hotel’s name and address.

“Have you finished the book for book club?” Hannah asks as we pull away from the curb.

“I finished it in two days,” I admit. I mastered small talk at a young age, thrown into situations with strangers that required me to acclimate quickly. Still, there’s a point when I start to know someone, and we’re no longer only acquaintances but not quite friends when small talk becomes a chore, where I’m afraid I’ll say something that offends them, or they’ll reveal something to me that makes me want to return to the safe place where we’re friends of friends. That’s the middle ground where Hannah and I are currently. “What about you?”

She shakes her head. “I just got back to Oleander Springs from visiting family. You picked the title, right? Hadley was raving about it.”

“I’m a sucker for the dark and broody types.”

Hannah tinkers a laugh. “Same. I love nothing more than a hero who hates everyone, but the heroine is his soft spot. They don’t cheat. They don’t drug you with edibles. They don’t lie. They just treat you like a princess and growl at everyone who dares to look at you.”

I nod emphatically. “Exactly.”

Hannah sighs wistfully. “If only.”

I chuckle as we pull up to the hotel, the lights emanating warmth and comfort as the night air blows against my bare skin. It’s not as cold as Oleander Springs, but uncomfortable enough to make us hurry inside.

“Should we change first?” I ask.

“I don’t know. If I sit down, I may not be able to get back up.”

I blow out a knowing laugh and turn to familiarize myself with the hotel before pointing to the rear corner. “I’m pretty sure it’s over there.”

Hannah links her arm with mine, and we cross the shining tiled floor to the back, discovering a closed sign hanging on the door.

“No…” Hannah groans, throwing her head back. “Is it that late?” she looks around, trying to confirm the time.

“We still have another day and full night for bad decisions and dehydration.”

She smirks. “I’ll wear flats.”

I grin, clutching her arm as we approach the bank of gold elevators. We ride to the third floor, where I walk Hannah to her room, positive she’s tipsier than she’s letting on.

“Thanks for tonight. Even if I didn’t get that last drink, this was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

I hate her ex a little more as I smile. “We’ll do it again tomorrow. Bigger and better.”

She tinkers out a laugh. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

I return to the elevator and get into an empty car, where I lean back, watching the lights along the top highlight the next two floors before stopping. The doors open, and my heart stalls as the guy who grabbed my arm earlier at the game appears. Ire has his lips twisting with a cruel smirk. “Decided measles might be worse?”

I’m frozen for a second, debating if he’s waiting for the elevator or me. Did he know I was coming?

He couldn’t.

My heart hammers too loudly to hear my thoughts as I try to smother my fear and debate if it would be better to get out or press the doors to close and ride back down to the lobby. I step out, my cell phone still in my hand from paying the Lyft driver, and curse fate who has the creepy guy staying at my hotel rather than Green-eyes. Not that I’d be inviting Green-eyes over after standing me up, but at least my mind wouldn’t be racing with perceived threats.

“What? Now you’re mute?” he asks, taking a step back and making no attempt to get into the empty elevator. “Where’s that attitude you showed me at the game?” His eyes are rimmed red, and his breath stinks of whiskey and stale cigarette smoke. Either is enough to churn my stomach. Together they make me physically ill.

“You’re not as hot as you think you are,” he continues. “In fact, I bet once you remove all your makeup, guys want to slip a bag over your face before they bang you.” He takes a step closer to me, his gaze sharp and predatory, watching his hateful words cut something much deeper than my skin.

I step back at the same time a door opens at the end of the hall. A familiar form steps out. It’s Grey, wearing sweatpants, his chest bare and an ice bucket in hand.

“Grey,” I say his name. “Sorry, that took me so long.” I pass super creep and head toward him, trying to calm my nerves and not look over my shoulder to ensure the stranger isn’t following me as I count my steps that bring me closer to Grey.

His blue eyes are inquisitive. “What’s going on?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I just forgot what floor we were on.”

He looks past me to the elevator and then at me again. “Did he say something?”

“Are we out of ice?”

Grey cuts his eyes over me.

“I hope you have a bag,” the stranger calls.

Grey looks at me for clarification.

I plaster a smile on my face and hold my chin a little higher. “He’s drunk. Mind if I stay in your room until he leaves.”

Grey’s frozen. I’m not sure he’s even breathing as he stares beyond me for a long minute and then slowly slips his hand into his pocket and withdraws the hotel key.

I nearly sigh with relief, glancing back as I turn to his door.

“Don’t scrub too hard,” the stranger calls before flipping me off.

“What the fuck does that mean? Did you sleep with him?”

Offense stings on my skin. “What?”

“Did you bring him back from the club?”

He still hasn’t opened his door. “You don’t have a girl in here. Do you?”

Grey rolls his eyes and shoves the door open. The lights by the bed are on, the bedding is pulled back, and the TV is on. I step into the space that smells more like the hotel’s notes of vanilla and less like Grey.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, closing me inside.

Awkwardness swallows me whole, not sparing enough sense for me to consider what to do as I catch sight of my reflection in the floor-length mirror across from the bathroom.

I’m pale, and my hair is flat, my eyes dull. It’s from dancing too long, but I can see why Grey mistook my look for post-sex.

When Grey returns, my heart stutters like a mouse about to be trapped. “I didn’t know people used their ice buckets at hotels,” I say.

His only response is a slightly arched brow before he walks past me to the small round table where his duffle bag is open. He pulls out a plastic freezer bag, pours the contents of the ice bucket inside before sealing it, and then grabs a hand towel and wraps it around the homemade ice pack.

A small part of me wants to ask him why he doesn’t call one of the trainers on the team, who I know would come with supplies and medications and anything else he might need. But I remain silent because moments like now when it’s just the two of us, our relationship—or lack thereof—becomes glaringly obvious. We don’t know each other and don’t spend time together, which creates a downright awkward tension.

“Thanks for the … um… Thanks. Have a good night.” I move toward the door.

“That’s it?”

“What? Did you want to accuse me of sleeping with someone else?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … it just looked like—”

“Like what?” My voice is an icy challenge, daring him to accuse me again. “Like he was in my space? Like he was trying to intimidate me with his size? Like he was trying to be a total asshat?”

The ice pack crunches as Grey’s fist clenches around it. “Who is he?” His voice is a quiet growl, and once again, he’s so still that I question if he’s breathing.

“I have no idea, and I don’t care.” I try and match his same level of aloofness with a parting look and then turn to the door.

“Mila,” he calls my name, his voice deep but less growly and more pleading, like he’s trying to apologize without actually saying anything.

I grab the door lever but pause, looking over my shoulder at Grey. His jaw is clenched, and every visible muscle in his arms and chest appears flexed. “Don’t worry. My skin’s thicker than an insinuation, even from you.”

He swallows. “Let me grab my shoes and a shirt. I’ll walk you—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” I slip out before he can offer or feel obligated and sigh with an ounce of relief that the hall is empty.

I walk down the maze of halls, rounding a final corner when the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand erect. I glance over my shoulder, my lungs frozen, but I see nothing more than an empty hall. I walk faster, practically running to my door where I have to dig for my hotel key and then scan it three times before it flashes green and the lock releases.

I slam the door and flip the deadbolt, breathing entirely too hard as I lean against it as though prepared to hold it closed.

Every one of my muscles and tendons is tense—even my bones and organs feel heavy as I remain stuck in place for several long minutes before I can finally pull in a full breath and ease myself away from the door and into the room. I flip on every light, checking in the closet and bathroom before I untie my shoes and dig through my suitcase to find my pajamas. I get changed and am preparing to brush my teeth when a gentle thump against the door makes my heart and lungs stall again. I’m too warm and too cold. I glance at the door, the lock still in place.

I turn on the tap, brush my teeth and wash my face before examining my reflection again, seeing myself through the stranger’s lens and scrutinizing every flaw until it’s all I can see.

I flip off the light and head back into the bedroom. A loud noise has me jumping higher than a cat, and I somehow find the wherewithal to look around and realize it was just my bag slipping from the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

My fears are beginning to feel like paranoia—a fact I despise. I bend down to gather the items that fell out when a noise comes from the connecting room, and the door between my room and the one next door rattles.

I scramble for my phone. Gripped between white knuckles, I scroll through my contacts stopping on the last person I want to see but the only person I know is still awake and alone—Grey. Grey and I never text or call each other. I don’t even know how to begin this conversation without sounding crazy, which I might be—or desperate, which I am.

The connecting door jiggles again, making my decision for me. I grab my purse, slip on some flip-flops, and check the peephole to ensure no one’s outside my door. Then I run like the dogs of hell are chasing me. I can’t call Grey, but apparently, I can arrive at his door unannounced.

I raise my fist and knock before I can second-guess myself and nerves get the best of me.