My phone buzzes.
Gretchen:Well?
Me:I said yes.
Gretchen: I swear I'll die if I don't see you straight after work! You better be home.
Gretchen wasn't lying. I hear a knock on my door at 6pm sharp, and open it to find Gretchen holding two bottles of wine and a bag of Thai takeout.
“Move aside. We’re dissecting this.”
I step aside to let her in. She’s already kicking off her shoes and heading to my tiny kitchen like she owns the place.
“I didn’t invite you over.”
“You texted me that you agreed to fake date your boss slash brother’s best friend slash the guy you already slept with. That’s an automatic invitation.” She pulls out plates and starts unpacking containers. “Pad Thai, spring rolls, and drunken noodles. Plus wine because you’re going to need it.”
Despite everything, I smile. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best, and you know it.” She pours two generous glasses of wine and hands me one. “Now, let me make sure I have this right. He’s paying you enough to quit your job and start your own studio?”
“Basically, yes.”
“And all you have to do is show up to events, hold his hand, and look pretty?”
“That’s the deal.”
“And that’s the only reason you said yes…?”
I stab a spring roll with my fork. “Yes! It’s amazing money and it gets me closer to my dream.”
“Or could it be … because you also want to spend time with him?”
“That’s not why.”
“Bailey. Come on. It’s me.” She sets down her plate and turns to face me fully. “You could have said no or told him to find someone else, but you didn't.”
“The money—”
“Is great. I’m not saying it’s not. But that is not the only reason you agreed, and we both know it.”
I drain half my wine glass. “I’m not falling for him.”
“I didn’t say you were falling for him. I said you want to spend time with him. There is a difference.”
“Is there?”
“For now, yes.” She refills both our glasses. “Look, I’m not judging. He is hot, rich, and apparently he remembers random things you say, which is basically the bare minimum but still more than most guys manage.”
“He is also my boss.”
“Yes, and the worst person for you. But here is what I think. You’re doing this for the money, sure. But you’re also doing it because for the first time in forever, it seems like someone sees you.”
My throat tightens. “Don’t.”
“I’m serious. When was the last time someone actually listened to you? Actually cared about what you wanted?”
“You listen.”
