“I had to,” I finally say.
“You didn’t.”
“I did. Maleko was watching. We needed to look convincing.”
She crosses her arms and leans back, her brow arched in a challenge. “You dumped out that stupid junk drawer for me.”
I hesitate. “I did.”
“So itwasfor me?”
I nod.
“You said it wasn’t. You said it was for you.”
I lean forward, lowering my voice. “I lied.”
She eyes me. “We’ve both gotten pretty good at that lately, huh?” Then she sighs. “Which reminds me. Antonia wants you to go to some gala with me that’s coming up soon. It’s for charity. She wants us to really play up the wholewe’re falling in loveact.”
“The Vista Victory one?”
She nods.
“I already got my invite.”
Lena cocks her head.
“For my donations to the local animal shelter. I’m speaking at it.”
“My big, tough softy.” She smiles up at me, and I can’t help but smile back.
“When is it again?”
“Next week.” She toys with a loose thread on the arm of her chair. “And then we’re supposed to break up online like two days later.”
My stomach drops, my brow crumpling. “That doesn’t make sense. Two days after?”
“Who knows? She might insist we do it the day after.” She lifts a shoulder. “She says if no one sees it coming, they’ll talk about it more—post about it more—and that we’ll completely drown out any other noise about us online. And boom.” Shesnaps her fingers in my face. “You got your brand deal, I got my name as clear as it’s going to be online. That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
She nods. “We both get what we want.”
Finally, I take a bite of my sandwich, trying to process everything. Is this truly what she wants? To clear her name and let me go? Vital Reign partnering with me is nice, but it’s not like I couldn’t have found ways to secure something else with help from my manager. Fake dating Lena was a foolproof way to expedite the process, which has proven to be the case. This has been the trajectory of our entire agreement. It was always going to end, so why does it feel so wrong?
What if I want more?
The words are on the tip of my tongue when she stands and flips a switch on the wall. Lights turn on in the recording booth as she turns to me. “I wanted to ask your opinion on something new.”
I pull myself from my stupor. Wanting more doesn’t matter when someone else is involved. Lena’s career will always take precedence. Travel for tours takes longer than my travel for away games. We’d never be able to sync up. I’d never be able to see her. What would be the point of trying?
I square my shoulders, running a hand through my hair. “My musical expertise? I thought you’d never ask.”
She rolls her eyes and pops open the door to the room beyond the glass. Lena moves through the space, the sound of her steps drowned out by all the padding on the walls. Each footfall lands carefully over cords and around other obstacles until she reaches the far corner. A white guitar glitters up at her, and she swipes it off its stand, slinging it across her body. Seconds later, she’s standing in front of me again.
She idles there, unmoving, until finally gesturing to the chairs beside us. “Are you going to sit down or continue to stand there awkwardly?”
“Awkwardly? Stoic, maybe. Awkward, never.”
