Pray the Fakes Get Exposed

8. Trust Me

"He likes you," Natalie said. A cheesy smile adorned her face.

"So what?" I took my flowers and my cupcake off of her desk.

"You should totally be together! What's stopping you?" Natalie inquired.

"Oh, Natalie. Poor, poor, poor, innocent Natalie. You don't even know," I sighed.

"Don't know what?"

I leaned in close to Natalie's face so Erin the Evil Editor's bat ears didn't hear me. "Erin," I whispered.

"What about her?" Natalie whispered back.

"She wants me to write lies about Drake because she hates him but it's really hard," I explained.

"Plus you like him," Natalie added.

"I mean...I guess..."

"You guess?!" Natalie cried immediately covering her mouth.

"I should go. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Please. Do I look that shallow?" Natalie laughed. "I would never throw you under the bus!"

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

Natalie and I exchanged smiles before going back to work. I took the elevator back up knowing Erin was in a meeting near the stairway. I didn't feel like dealing with her today. That's when it hit me.

I said yes to a date with Aubrey. Why did I do that?

The elevator doors opened and I sat there in shock for so long, I almost went on another trip to a different floor.

But why did I say yes?

It's pretty obvious I like him but it's also obvious that I need my job. I can't afford for Erin to fire me because I can't afford to lose my apartment. When I left Malibu, California, I really left. There's no turning back.

I put the flowers on my desk and sat down in my chair to really think about the decision I made. I already got in trouble once for that kiss. Luckily I got off by claiming it was an accident, which it was. But if there's a photo of us like that again, I won't be so lucky because I agreed to a date.

A knock on my door interrupted my train of thought and my mood improves once I see the face that came to greet me.

"Hey, doll," Monty sang. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," I replied, doing my best to not explode with all the information I had been keeping from him.

Monty casually took a seat and folded his hands neatly in his lap. I did the same and waited for him to say something.

"Who are the flowers from?" he asked.

"Aubrey."

Monty nodded and admired the bouquet some more. He was hiding a smile, I could tell.

"Look, I'm sorry. Let's be friends. I need you," I finally blurted out.

"I'm sorry too. Let's forget it ever happened. So tell me about this," Monty insisted, leaning in toward me and totally forgetting about our argument.