I curl up under the still-warm covers, silently berating myself for showing him my lapse of composure. I nestle my cheek into the pillow and sigh. Even when he's not even trying, Wolf has a way of getting under my skin.
After a few minutes of stewing in my own frustration, the delicious smell of roasted chicken wafts through the slit under my door. He must have had it in the oven when I went out there. My stomach rumbles but after everything I admitted, there's no way I'm sauntering out there to grab some breakfast.
I roll onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow and emit a silent scream. My shoulders shake, my legs thrash in the air, and my fingers clench onto the sides of the pillow. Mini-tantrum over, I feel the tension leave my body, and I slump against the mattress, feeling my own hot breath against my face as I huff into the pillow.
My phone dings softly and I pull my head up in surprise only long enough to glance at the screen. Dash. I pull the blanket over my head and draw my knees up so it creates a tent over my body, then balance my phone upright on my stomach, reading the message.
Dash: I got a role on a reality show! 11:26 AM
I waste no time in calling him - he picks up on the first ring.
"Cara mia!" he exclaims, voice bright and happy.
"Still learning Italian?" My lips twist into a wry grin. "You may want to learn more than just two words."
He chuckles. "I'm scraping by. This friendship is a judgment-free zone, bella."
"So tell me all about this new gig, Dash!"
He does. His voice is uplifted in a way that I don't remember it being for a long time, and I'm so happy for him that I'm not even peeved when he apologetically tells me that filming starts immediately so he may have to end things with Liza.
"So wait," I say, flexing my toes, "they hired you to pretend to run into someone?" I'm more than a little confused.
His tone changes and it happens so seamlessly that it's almost imperceptible. "I mean, yeah," he says, sounding a little defensive. "They want me to get close to this girl who's on the show. Apparently she's the daughter of the producer—that's where she got the idea, actually, from her daughter's friend circle—and viewers think she's really boring and think a new love interest will make her stand out, otherwise they're gonna drop her from the show and her mom doesn't want to do that, so..."
"That sounds kind of sleazy," I say, trying to keep my voice as diplomatic as I can, considering how utterly reprehensible I find reality television. "Does the girl even know that it's a setup?"
"No." Dash's voice is resigned. "And technically you're not supposed to know, either, so mum's the word, Char."
"What's the show called, anyway?"
"Beautiful Dirty Rich. Like the Lady Gaga song."
"Eloquent," I mumble, which causes him to laugh.
"I know, it's not the greatest job, but it's a really popular show, and I think it could be my big break."
The phone is starting to feel a little warm against my ear, so I move it to the other side of my head. "And you're okay with this?" I ask curiously.
"I mean, it's kind of shitty—but that's not my problem, it's her mother who got in touch with me—and it's not like they asked me to, you know, do anything with her."
I nod, even though I know he can't see me. As unethical as I find it, I can respect Dash's decision to pursue this opportunity. It seems ignorant to ignore, especially when it just fell in his lap the way that it did. "Be careful, Dash. Pretending can be dangerous."
He goes silent for a long moment, only his steady breathing lets me know that he's still there. "Speaking from experience?"
I pretend I didn't hear that, instead saying, "I'll take care of Liza. I'll just tell her the truth. Say that you're focusing on your career right now."
"Sounds good." A touch of mirth enters his voice. "Isn't it weird how they all know I'm an actor but they don't suspect me of playing them?"
"You don't have a disingenuous face."
"Is that a good thing?"
I think about it. "Yes. That's what I like about you. What you see is what you get."
"So I'm an open book?" He sounds thrilled.
"There's worse things to be." I grin. "Congratulations, Dash. We should go out to celebrate."
"Yeah, all three of us."
Three? I try to think of who the third person can be, but at my pause, he elaborates, "Brett."
"Yeah, of course. Wanna set something up for tomorrow?"
"Dinner?" he suggests. "There's a new tapas place that opened below my apartment. They have awesome chorizo and beer."
"I'm there!" I agree with a laugh.
"My treat."
His voice overrides mine as I start to protest. "You've treated me often enough, babe. Just roll with it."
"Fine," I say, giving in. "Seven?"
"Sounds good."
His voice is upbeat again and it brings a smile to my face to hear it.
"Char?" His voice is hesitant and then he sighs, like he's unsure of how to phrase something. "I'm not the only open book on this shelf, you know."
"Oh, are we being deep now?" I tease, laughing. "And here I thought you were just a pretty face!"
Ignoring my jibes, he continues, "I heard about you and...well, I just, you know, want to make sure—"
"I'm not going to do anything stupid with Wolf," I cut in. "Trust me." I haven't told him anything about my current situation, so I chalk up his insights into my love life to Brett's gossiping.
"I do trust you," he insists earnestly. "I know you think people don't notice, but they do. I notice."
"Notice what?" Exasperated, I sigh.
His voice goes quiet, gentle. "That you wear your heart on your sleeve, even though you try to hide it. You're not so different from who you used to be, you know."
"I am," I say, feeling stubborn.
"He asked you to be his girlfriend - you went along with it. Five years later, he ups the ante and asks you to be his wife - and you move in with the man! Explain how that's not a parallel."
"I'm the one calling the shots this time."
"I just don't want you to get hurt," Dash says.
"Why does everyone assume it'll be me who gets hurt?" I scoff. "He thinks he's using me, but he doesn't even realize that I'm using him, too. I'm going to get over him, Dash."
"That's what I mean, exactly," Dash says with a jubilant tone in his voice. "You think that it has to be this way, but it doesn't. What if you don't have to get over him? What if the second time is the charm?"
My voice lowers to a hushed whisper. "You don't know him, Dash. He's still doing this aloof, Ice King act. And just when I think that he's starting to thaw, he—" I break off off, feeling fresh tears spring to my eyes. "He's not even ice. At least ice melts. He's fucking permafrost."
"Charlotte, I just feel like"—he takes a sharp breath—"like you don't think clearly when it comes to him. He's like the chocolate cake you want to eat when you're a diet. Sounds good at the time, but bad for you in the end."
"What do you want me to do?" Aggravated, I groan. "I appreciate your concern, but—"
"What is your gut telling you about him?" he asks.
"That he could either be"—I take a ragged, unsteady breath—"the best thing for me." I wait a beat, and expel my breath slowly. "Or the worst."
"So you need to figure out which one it is and then stick to it."
But what if I want to have my cake and eat it, too? I can practically hear the frown in his voice, so I don't repartee with this quip. I can't deny the validity of his words, but I'm feeling too emotionally drained right now to work out a reply, so I settle for a noncommittal "mhm".
"I gotta go, the producer is on call waiting," he says, abrupt and panicked. "Shit. Bye, Char."
"Knock her dead!" I exclaim, but he's already hung up.
Hair rumpled beyond belief, I poke my head out from the blankets. In an instant, I feel cold. But not for the obvious reason.
It's because Wolf is standing there looking at me with a contemplative expression on his face.
How much did he hear?
Author's Note: ruh roh! What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, right? LMAO. I just broke 14K, which I am positively thrilled about c: Thank you so much to you all for getting me there! I'm also #51 in ChickLit, WHICH IS SO AMAZING, I CAN'T EVEN. <3 So much love to you guys for supporting this story.