“Let me get this straight: Santiago is famous, you lied to your dad and told him that Santiago is your boyfriend, and you plan on hosting a dinner like a happy couple to spend more time with said father who still doesn’t know your true identity?” Brooke’s voice echoes through the phone.
“Yes.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and fall onto my mattress with a loud thud. “On a scale 0 to 10, how bad is this idea?”
“You broke the rating system in the best kind of way. Imagine how fun this will be.” Brooke’s fingers typing across a keyboard echo through the speaker. “Wait. Santiago is really fucking famous! Oh my God!”
I pull the phone away from my ear. “Brooke! Stop googling him!”
“But he’s worth over 100 million dollars! How the hell did you trap this guy?”
“It’s fake, so I didn’t exactly trap him.”
“Well, damn. It’s never too late to try. You should charge him for your ‘girlfriend’ services. He can spare a few thousand dollars. Trust me. I’m checking out the layout of his yacht right freaking now! You know, because your boyfriend had GQ interview him.”
“He’s the one who should be charging me. I’m the one who needs his help now.”
“Ugh, you’re no fun.” Her mouse clicks in the background. She mumbles something about a private car collection and a house in Spain before I stop her.
“Can you quit prying into his life?”
“No. This is the most fun I’ve had all year! Have pity on a small-town girl who needs a little romance in her life.”
“You were born in New York City.”
“Excuse me, Little Miss Buzzkill. Fine. I was born with a small-town heart. Plus, it’s not every day your best friend dates someone famous! Give me a break. You’d be disappointed if I didn’t google him for you.”
“Fake dating. And I don’t want to know what the internet says about him.”
“What about the reports on how he’s hung like a horse?”
“No! Not even that!” I screech. The memory of his impressive erection pressing against me on the night we met is permanently burned into my brain.
Brooke giggles to herself. “How about the story about how he eats pussy like a seven-course meal? Or that his favorite position happens to be cowgirl because the view from below is worth the lack of dominance.”
“Oh my freaking God, where are you getting this information? Stop it!” My skin heats from Brooke’s gossip.
Nothing I chant to myself erases the images from my head. They play on a loop, reminding me why I can look but can’t touch. Been there, kissed that. Anything with Santiago spells trouble in two different languages.
Brooke rambles on. “I have my sources on the dark internet.”
“Reddit doesn’t count as the dark web.”
“Okay, fine. But it’s a good site for this kind of shit. How else would you know about his dick size?”
“Uhm, by touching it?”
She scoffs. “Please. You wouldn’t remember your way around a dick if an anatomy book hit you in the head.”
“I hate you. Just because it’s been a long time since I had any kind of intimate relationship, doesn’t mean I don’t remember how to please someone else.”
“No, you love that I call you out on the lack of male company lately. If you don’t orgasm on the spot by touching his nine-inch cock, then I’m banishing you from our apartment. Don’t bother coming back.”
A laugh erupts from me. “What has gotten into you?”
“You’re fake dating someone who’s rumored to tongue-fuck pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen to breathe.”
I ignore the way my skin prickles, hoping the rush of blood through my body settles. “Do people truly share that kind of info? About his—” I wince. “That’s such an invasion of privacy.”
“What do you expect? He’s famous. You lose all rights to being considered human the moment TMZ features multiple stories about you.”
“What do I do? I shouldn’t have agreed to dinner tonight with Marko. Shoot, I shouldn’t have agreed to any of this. Fake dating is my worst idea yet.”
“Relax and enjoy it. All you’ve done in your short life is grow up way too fast and work until you drop. I’m telling you to strap on your cowgirl boots and go for a ride. After dinner, that is, because you don’t need to scar the little kid, no matter how tempting the dining table looks for some good fucking.”
“You’re the worst support system. You should tell me this is a terrible idea and I should cancel.”
“It is a terrible idea, which is exactly why you should do it! What’s the harm in faking it in front of his family and yours a couple of times? You both get something out of it.”
“I don’t like using people.” The idea alone makes me feel icky.
“You’re not her.”
Resembling anything close to my mother is the last thing I want in life. I can’t deny how everything spiraling out of control reminds me of her. “Yeah, well, lately it feels like that with the lies piling up.”
“Listen, it’s normal for you to worry about turning out like your mom, but this is different. Santiago is a willing participant.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. Didn’t he agree to hosting a dinner with your dad next week once Marko leaves and things settle down?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Does that sound like someone who is being forced?”
I bite into my bottom lip. “No.”
“Would a normal person agree to be used?”
“Not a sane one.”
“See! It’s mutual then. You help him, he helps you. Now…if you want his help in the bedroom, I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige as well.”
“I can’t anymore with you!”
“Holy shit!” Brooke gasps.
“What?”
“You didn’t tell me his sister is Maya Slade! She’s YouTube famous. I watched her vlog last year when I was manifesting a trip to Switzerland.”
“What?” With every new piece of information that comes to light about Santiago Alatorre, a year is shaved off my life.
“She does a bunch of travel and lifestyle videos. I didn’t connect Santiago’s name and hers when you mentioned him! Oh my God. Noah fucking Slade!” Brooke screams a string of words into the phone. “That’s it, I’m packing my bags. You need a partner-in-crime, and I straight up just need a partner. They have to have some hot, famous friend for little old me.”
I laugh up to the ceiling, loving Brooke for erasing my concerns about seeing Santiago tonight. “If you come here, you’ll never leave.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
