Fake It 'Til You Break It (Fake Girlfriend Book 1) Read online

  Fake Girlfriend Book – 1

  Faye Byrd

  Edited by Christine V.

  Cover images from Deposit Photo

  @ Gromovataya

  Copyright 2020 © Faye Byrd

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author.

  All trademark references mentioned in this book, including movies, movie characters or television shows, are the property of the respective copyright holders and trademark owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 1

  I shove the container of brownies toward Kevin as I pull out my chair. “Freshly made this morning.” A giggle escapes when Carson reaches out and swipes them before my favorite connoisseur can get his hands on them. “Hey, hey, no fighting,” I scold playfully, watching as the two of them have a tugging match.

  “No fair.” Kevin huffs when Rachael distracts him so Carson can pop off the top and grab three. “Valley V made those for me.”

  Zane snorts as he takes one of Carson’s hard-won prizes. “Pretty sure she made them for all of us. You’re just trying to hog them.”

  I roll my eyes at their antics, though it’s flattering to watch them argue. “There’re plenty to go around. And besides, I can make more tomorrow.”

  “More what?” Alexa asks as she plops down beside me, heaving her heavy bag onto the table in front of her. “Jesus, Professor Barkley is a hard ass. This final paper is kicking my butt.”

  “Glad I didn’t have him,” Rachael says, looking over her perfect nails. “I’ve heard he’s tough.”

  “Speaking of finals,” Zane butts in, dropping the legs of his chair and raking his eyes across the group. “What are everyone’s plans for the holidays?”

  “Rach and I are headed to So-Cal for both Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Kevin responds with a dimpled smile. “The winters out here are brutal, and there’s nothing like going home for the holidays.”

  “Yep, Mississippi for me,” Alexa chimes in, still riffling through her bag.

  I sigh, wishing I could be so lucky. “Not me. I’m going home for Christmas, but I’ll be stuck here for Thanksgiving.”

  “The Windy City’s calling my name,” Carson adds, stretching out his lean arm and snagging the brownie container Kevin has left unguarded. “What about you, Z? Your parents ever decide what they’re gonna do?”

  “Hey,” Kevin exclaims, snagging it back after allowing Carson to sneak one more. “The rest are mine, fuckers!”

  “Home for Christmas, but it’s looking more and more like I might be stuck here for Thanksgiving too,” Zane says, ignoring the interruption. “The ‘rents are planning to come to me, last I heard anyway. Who knows? They could always change their minds again.”

  “Sucks to be you,” Carson says, shoving the last bite of his third brownie into his mouth. “My mom’s going all out this year after last year’s debacle.”

  “Man,” Zane says, grabbing his trim waist, “just thinking about it makes my stomach hurt.”

  “That’s how I know this year’s gonna be good,” Carson says with a wink. “Lots to make up for.”

  The two share a conspiratorial laugh and Kevin joins, even though he has no idea what they’re referring to. At least, I guess he doesn’t, but who knows? Guys are weird. Especially these three.

  I met Kevin and Rachael during freshman year, and Alexa, Zane, and Carson joined our little threesome last fall. Alexa is a year behind the rest of us, but we hit it off when I was assigned to be her sophomore buddy at the beginning of last year. Zane and I met in class when we were selected to be partners on an assignment, and where he goes, his best friend Carson isn’t far behind.

  Rachael stands, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. “We still on for the study session tonight, girls?”

  Alexa pauses digging just long enough to catch Rachael’s eye. “Sounds good. I need a break from all this research.”

  “I’m in,” I add. “I’ll stop by the library and grab a couple of books.”

  Kevin’s head swivels between the three of us. “Wait a minute. What’s going on here? Books from the library, no research. What exactly are you studying?”

  Rachael cuts her eyes to her beloved, and the look she gives him is almost too intimate for foreign eyes. “The Kama Sutra,” she says, her voice husky and low.

  Kevin gulps. “Carry on, then.”

  The rest of us laugh as he follows after her like a lost puppy.

  A week later, I’m sitting at a lone table in the back of the library with several books spread before me, taking studious notes, when a familiar throat clears. “Mind if I join you?” Zane asks, pulling out a seat without waiting for my answer.

  “Sure,” I snark with an eye roll. “Go right ahead.”

  His chuckle absorbs into my skin and flutters around in my stomach. “I hope I’m not interrupting you, but I figured this is where you’d be.”

  “Oh?” I ask, sitting up straighter and tossing my pencil to the table. “You were looking for me? This gets more interesting by the second.”

  “Sure, you say that now …” He trails off, his dark brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “I was hoping we could discuss something.” He palms the back of his neck, his eyes shielded by his long side bangs. “Something peculiar.”

  “I’m intrigued.” I prop my forearms on the table and lean closer. “Do tell.”

  He shakes his bangs from his eyes, and I don’t miss the way his gaze jumps to my cleavage, which I may or may not have purposefully put on display, before settling on my face. “Can I ask you a few questions first?”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  He obviously has a case of nerves, which I find endearing but also unusual. Zane Dixon is a self-assured hunk of a guy who’s never seemed anything but cool and confident. A flutter of his thick lashes or a swipe through his edgy locks is usually all it takes to get his way with any woman—me included.

  “Not really … so Christmas,” he says, surprising me with his topic of choice. “You said you were going home, but does that mean for the whole break or just Christmas week?”

  “Oh.” I sit up straighter, never having contemplated this question myself. “I’m not sure, really. My plans haven’t been firmed up yet. What’s this all about?”

  He fiddles for a second, lining up the edges of a stack of books beside him before searing me with a serious gaze. “I have a proposition I’d like to make. You can tell me to go to hell or whatever, but I’d like you to hear me out first.”

  Under such a molten stare, I have no recourse but to oblige his every whim. “I’m listening,” I breathe, leaning closer, as his magnetism is hard to ignore.

  His tongue eases across his bottom lip in one slow, sensual swipe, momentarily disorienting me. “I need a fake girlfriend.”

  I’m so lost in staring at his lips that I have to repeat what he said over in my head to grasp it. “A f-fake g-girlfriend,” I sputter, stunned those words just left his pretty mouth. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I wish I was.” He sighs and pops his elbows onto the table, much
like I did earlier. “If you’ll bear with me, I can explain.”

  I smooth down my hair and cross my arms, doing a shoulder shimmy as I prepare myself to hear whatever ridiculous tale he’s concocted. There’s no way in hell Zane can’t get whatever kind of girlfriend he wants.

  “This should be interesting,” I say, unable to hold back a teasing smirk.

  “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he deadpans, wiping his hand over his face. When he removes it, it’s almost as if someone has kicked his dog. “I’m serious, Valentine. I know it sounds crazy, but if you’ll just hear me out, maybe it’ll make more sense.”

  This conversation feels like an out of body experience. Many times, I’ve dreamed of a moment similar to this, only the word fake was never part of the equation. We spent many hours working on a time-consuming project together last fall, yet never once did it venture into something I could concretely consider to be flirting. Of course, I analyzed his every move later when I was alone, but every one was second-guessable. Everything I thought might’ve been something ended up being nothing.

  “Go for it,” I say, waving as if to give him the floor.

  He stretches his muscular jean-clad legs out in front of him and opens and closes the closest book, his eyes on his hand. “My parents are coming to town for Thanksgiving, and I sorta told them I was seeing someone”—his burning browns flick to my skeptical blues—“seriously.” They drop back to the book. “I know it’s a stupid lie, but I’m so tired of my mom asking me when I’m going to bring someone besides Carson home from college.”

  The bitterness in his tone wraps around my heart and squeezes. “That must be hard for you. So you’ve never taken a girlfriend home before?”

  His head shakes, but he doesn’t lift it. “I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.”

  “And now?” I ask softly, already knowing the answer. “Won’t that happen anyway?”

  “Yes.” He lets out a deep, resigned sigh and lifts his troubled eyes to mine. “I just want to spend the holidays watching my mom smile. Sure, she’ll be sad to hear it didn’t work out later, but maybe she’ll quit pushing so hard if she thinks I’m taking dating more seriously.”

  An unintended giggle slips out, and I hurriedly cover my lips. “Sorry,” I say apologetically. “It’s just, my dad is the exact opposite. He has to stifle his giddiness every time he asks if I’m coming alone and I reply with a yes.”

  “I’ll bet.” Zane snorts, and it’s the cutest thing ever. “Mom and Dad dated all through college and got married the summer after graduation, so she’s having a hard time understanding why I don’t have a long-term girlfriend.”

  In hopes of lightening the atmosphere even more, I fake-gasp. “The horror. Surely an old man such as yourself should already be engaged.”

  There it is: that warm, rich chuckle that sends the butterflies scampering. “She thinks so.” He shifts, angling toward me and lowering his voice. “I just want to get her off my back, and I thought the best way to do that was to let her think—”

  “You mean lie?” I interrupt, wanting to be clear exactly where this is headed. “You want me to help you trick your mother into thinking you’re in love with me, or serious like at the very least?”

  He moves closer, the space between us feeling too intimate, too warm. “Yes, as bad as it sounds, that’s exactly what I want. Will you do it?”

  I can’t think with him this close, so I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Now you’re talking,” he says, rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist. “There’s a few things in it for you. First, I’ll pay you, plus there’s the added aspect of seeing my mom’s happiness, and we can’t forget all that time you’ll get to spend with yours truly.”

  “You can’t be serious right now,” I deadpan, lifting the bitch brow. “I should double my fee based on that last assessment alone.”

  “Cost be damned.” He waves it away as nothing. “So you’ll do it?”

  “Exactly how far are we taking this?” I ask, remembering his earlier questions about Christmas.

  “Can you come to Chicago for New Year’s?” he asks, a hopeful spark lighting his eyes.

  “I can,” I say, stretching the word, “but why would I need to?”

  “Bear with me here,” he says, holding up his hands. “If we do Thanksgiving and you come to Chicago after Christmas and stay through New Year’s, then I can probably get by until summer before I have to tell her we broke up. I mean, we’re good friends so spending time together shouldn’t be too big of a chore, and I promise to show you a good time. Please say yes, Valentine. I’ll buy your plane ticket and pay you a thousand dollars.”

  “Shit,” I whisper, shaking my head as I try to wrap my mind around his plan.

  A thousand dollars is a lot of money to a scholarship holder like me, and it’s not like pretending to be Zane Dixon’s girlfriend is going to be a hardship. Why he didn’t string Laura, the girl he was dating last month, along a little longer is beyond me, but hey, her loss is my gain.

  On the other hand, I have to consider my own feelings. Can I do this and walk away with our friendship still intact? Or will old desires make me wish for things that aren’t real? I’m not sure of those answers, but as I peer into his pleading eyes, I can only give one response.

  “On one condition,” I say, pausing for him to nod his acquiescence. “You have to promise not to fall in love with me.”

  A beautiful smile bursts forth, and he tosses his head back with a jubilant chuckle. It’s a warm, rich sound that echoes across the quiet library. His eyes are sparkling by the time he brings them back to mine. “Deal.”

  Chapter 2

  The two weeks between Zane’s proposition and Thanksgiving break pass by in a flurry of classes, studying, and hanging out. Our friends are none the wiser to our plan, and I like it that way. The feeling of sharing a secret this big with only Zane is akin to an electric spark. A simple knowing look is all it takes to send it racing across my skin.

  Every time it happens, I have to pull myself from the clouds, from the whispers of what if and maybe. I have to remind myself this is a job, a friend helping a friend, not a bond formed from mutual attraction. I impose the word fake over the images that play in my head, obliterating them from existence.

  “I can do this,” I say to myself as I pace in front of the small sofa in the basement apartment Alexa and I share near campus. We just moved in at the end of summer, so Zane’s never visited here before. “No need to be nervous, Valentine. You’ve got this.”

  My muscles are tense and my hands jittery as I await Zane’s arrival. Carson finally left for Chicago last night, and with the rest already gone, Zane thought it might be a good idea for us to get together and discuss tactics. I don’t know why I’m so wound up, as we’ve been alone plenty of times before, but I can’t seem to shake the nerves.

  The oven dings, reminding me I have a pan of chicken enchiladas baking. I do a quick shake of my arms to dispel some of the nervous energy and move to the kitchen. The smell of cheesy goodness greets me as soon as I open the oven door, sending a wave of calm rushing over me.

  Cooking always has been a coping mechanism for me. It goes back to when I was twelve—one year after my mother and father’s divorce. I was a confused, lonely little girl with a father who didn’t have the words to explain. I stayed that way for a while, until Mrs. Cash, our elderly next-door neighbor, took me under her wing. Each day, she’d teach me something new in the kitchen, and each day, my burden felt lighter until it no longer existed.

  Just as I set the piping hot pan onto the stovetop, the doorbell chimes, and even it doesn’t have the power to make me quake anymore. I greet him with a smile. “Zane, I was beginning to think you’d chickened out.”

  He lifts his nose and sniffs the air. “I knew it. As soon as I got out of the car, I smelled it. What’d ya make us?”

  I pull the door wider. “Why don’t you come in and
see?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he says as he passes me.

  I shut the door behind him and turn, absorbing the way his presence fills the entire room. “As you can see, this is our living room, and over there is our small kitchen,” I say, moving past him and pointing out the two areas. “You want to sit at the bar and eat enchiladas while we form our plan?”

  “Straight to business,” Zane says, laying his jacket across the arm of the sofa. “I like it. Even more when there’s food involved.”

  His light teasing manner puts me even more at ease as I point to a stool. “Have a seat while I make our plates.”

  “Damn, woman,” he says with a low whistle. “Are you sure we even need to plan? It feels like you’ve already gotten your part down. Cooking and serving. What more could I ask of you?”

  “Don’t get cocky, asshole,” I snark, loading an enchilada onto a plate and sliding it across the bar. “Drink? I have water, Sprite, and orange Kool-Aid.”

  “Water’s fine.” He picks up his fork and shoves a bite into his mouth, not even bothering to blow the steam from it. “Jesus, Valentine,” he mumbles as he readies another bite. “This shit is amazing. Where have you been all my life?”

  I slide two bottles of water in his direction. “Slow down. It’s not going anywhere.” After, heaping an enchilada onto my plate, I move around and slip onto the stool beside him. “It does smell good, eh?”

  Zane chuckles as he points to his empty plate. “Fucking delicious.”

  “So much for talking while we eat.”

  Pushing his plate aside, he props an elbow on the bar and shifts toward me. “You eat; I’ll talk.” I shrug and pop the first bite into my mouth, giving him the go-ahead. “This really means a lot to me, Valentine. Just hearing the smile in my mom’s voice is everything. I can’t wait for her to meet you.”

  “Aren’t you worried we’ll mess this up?” I ask, my apprehension creeping in. “That we won’t be convincing enough?”

  “Not at all.” He grabs my arm, guiding my fork into his waiting mouth. After swallowing the bite much faster than a normal person, his lips lift into a cocky half grin. “We already have the basic foundation of any great relationship. We’re friends.”