Page 38 of Famously Fake


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“You’re beautiful,” I say, kissing her slowly.

“You’re not so bad yourself. I love this hair …”

“That makes two of us,” I say with a laugh.

She runs her fingers through it, holding on tight as she pulls my head down to kiss her.

Our bodies intertwine as we find our way around each other. There’s something special about the first time you’re with someone. You get to learn what they like and how they react. Like the way Leila purrs when I kiss the inside of her thighs. Or the way her head falls back as I finally enter her.

We both fall back on the bed when we’re finished, sweat glistening off our bodies.

“I’ll be back,” Leila says. She doesn’t bother covering herself up as she crosses the hall to use the bathroom. When she returns, she has a smile on her face. “That was fun.”

“Yes, it was. And as much as I want to stay here with you, I’m going to have to leave soon. I have filming starting in a couple of hours.”

Leila sits up. “What? You need sleep!”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll get in a few hours before I leave.”

“You could stay here.”

“I don’t want to wake you up.”

She pouts. “Yeah, I’d be kind of annoyed. I like my sleep.”

I kiss her protruding lip. “I’ll see you soon. We’ll make another date.”

I reluctantly climb out of bed, admiring Leila’s paintings on her walls as I get dressed. Her room looks as I would expect. Perfectly decorated, the way mine is now. She’s almost done with her design of my house.

With one more kiss, I leave the apartment, and Leila locks the door behind me.

I curse this stupid movie for the early filming schedule because all I want is to climb back into bed with Leila and never leave.

Chapter Seventeen – Leila

I wake up in an empty bed, and my first thought is that last night was a dream. It had to be. There’s no way I actually slept with my childhood crush and current fake boyfriend. Except, my body is delightfully sore, and I can still feel the pressure of Spencer’s lips against mine. Last night definitely happened.

Now what?

I check my phone, which I’d tossed on the bedside table at some point last night. It’s almost dead, but there aren’t any new messages. I swallow down my disappointment. Spencer said he was filming early today, so he wouldn’t be on his phone. Plus, it’s not like I need him to text me or anything. I’m not that kind of girl.

I still want him to text me, but I don’t need it.

I plug in the phone and climb out of bed, stretching my arms over my head. My naked body shivers as a breeze from the AC hits me. I don’t usually sleep naked because I get too cold, but I was too tired and satisfied to put clothes on after Spencer left.

The empty spot where Spencer lay when we finished is still ruffled up from our fun. I make the bed so that it’s neat and tidy, but it doesn’t distract me from what happened last night. What does it mean that we slept together? What’s going to happen next?

Spencer and I agreed it didn’t feel like a bad idea for us to be together, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t. We’re just two people pretending to be in a relationship. We barely know each other, if I’m being honest. A few fake dates don’t amount to a true relationship.

I put on some clothes and head into the living room. After taking Shiloh out for a quick walk and feeding him breakfast, I flop down on the couch, turn on the TV, and the menu is still stuck on the comedy we didn’t finish last night.

I cover my head with my hands. What am I supposed to do? I’ve never been in this situation before. I don’t even mean the fake dating thing, but the whole what-does-it-mean thing. With all my past boyfriends, I always knew where we stood. No question about it. That’s why Abby called me boring. She’s more into this kind of relationship than I am.

If only she were here right now. She could tell me what I’m supposed to do next. Do I change my phone number and move so Spencer can never find me? Do I tell him I have feelings for him and want to try something more? Neither of those options appeals to me right now.

Do I pretend it never happened so we can go back to the way things were before?

I’m not sure I want that either.

I turn the TV off again and stalk back to my room. Sitting on the side of my bed, I pull out my phone and text Malia to see what she’s up to. She responds immediately that she’s not doing anything and is bored, so I ask if she wants to come over in an hour.

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