His Ex Has Questions

 By Monday morning, I had learned three important things about fake dating Damien Cole.

 One, he took the assignment far too seriously.

 Two, he had absolutely no shame.

 And three, I was beginning to understand why his ex-girlfriend was probably considering a restraining order.

 My phone buzzed while I was brushing my teeth.

 Damien: Good morning, baby .

 I stared at the message.

 Then I spat toothpaste into the sink.

 Me: Call me that again and I'll block you.

 His reply came almost immediately.

 Damien: You wound me, sweetheart.

 Me: I'm going to wound you physically if you don't stop.

 Damien: Violence against your boyfriend? Wow. Toxic relationship.

 I took a screenshot of our conversation.

 Not because it was funny.

 Okay, it was a little funny.

 But mostly because I wanted evidence to present to his mother when I eventually explained why I had murdered her son.

 Another message appeared.

 Damien: Pick you up at 10. We're going somewhere.

 I frowned.

 Me: Where?

 Damien: Surprise.

 Me: I don't like surprises.

 Damien: You'll survive.

 Me: Famous last words.

 I tossed my phone onto the bed and finished getting ready.

 If Damien thought I was going to spend my day participating in whatever ridiculous activity he'd planned, he was absolutely right.

 Unfortunately.

 ---

 At ten fifteen, Damien pulled up outside my apartment.

 I walked out, wearing jeans, a white blouse, and the expression of a woman who had been inconvenienced against her will.

 He leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door.

 "Good morning, gorgeous."

 I stopped.

 Slowly, I looked at him.

 "What did you just call me?"

 He smiled innocently.

 "Gorgeous."

 "Damien."

 "Ava."

 "Don't start."

 He laughed as I climbed into the car.

 "You're no fun."

 "And you're one more pet name away from being single."

 "Technically, you're already single."

 I turned toward him.

 He burst out laughing.

 I hated him.

 Not really.

 But I was considering making it a hobby.

 "Where are we going?" I asked, fastening my seat belt.

 "Shopping."

 I blinked.

 "For what?"

 "Clothes."

 I looked down at myself.

 "Am I not dressed?"

 "You are."

 "Then explain the problem."

 He pulled into traffic.

 "We need pictures."

 I stared at him.

 "Pictures?"

 "Couple pictures. People are going to expect them."

 I slowly turned toward the window.

 There was a special place in heaven for people who tolerated Damien Cole.

 I hoped they were accepting applications.

 ---

 The shopping trip turned out to be less about shopping and more about Damien behaving like a man who had lost every functioning brain cell.

 He insisted on buying me a dress.

 I insisted I didn't need one.

 He picked a red dress.

 I picked a black one.

 He said the red one made me look stunning.

 I told him the black one made me look like I was attending his funeral.

 He laughed so hard that a sales assistant came over to check whether we were all right.

 We were not.

 After nearly an hour, I walked out with a dress I hadn't intended to buy and the firm conviction that fake dating should come with financial compensation.

 Damien, meanwhile, looked delighted with himself.

 "Now we need pictures."

 I stopped walking.

 "If you say that one more time, I'm going to throw your phone into a fountain."

 He raised his phone.

 "Smile."

 "No."

 "Come on."

 "No."

 He stepped beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

 I gave the camera the most threatening smile I could manage.

 Click.

 He looked at the picture and started laughing.

 I snatched the phone.

 There I was, smiling like a woman who had just been informed her enemies were being released from prison.

 Damien looked like he was having the best day of his life.

 "This is terrible," I announced.

 "It's perfect."

 "It looks like you're holding me hostage."

 "That's because you look like you're planning my murder."

 "At least the picture is realistic."

 He took his phone back.

 "One more."

 I sighed dramatically.

 This time, I managed a normal smile.

 Damien looked at the picture for a moment before nodding approvingly.

 "There. Beautiful."

 I rolled my eyes.

 "Send it to yourself and let's go."

 He grinned.

 "Already done."

 I didn't think much of it.

 Not until that evening, when my phone began buzzing with messages from mutual friends asking whether Damien and I were actually together.

 Apparently, he had posted the picture.

 With a heart emoji.

 A HEART EMOJI.

 I called him immediately.

 He answered on the second ring.

 "Hello, love of my life."

 "Take. That. Picture. Down."

 He laughed.

 "No."

 "Damien!"

 "It's a nice picture."

 "You put a heart under it!"

 "Would you prefer a skull?"

 I closed my eyes.

 "I cannot believe I agreed to this."

 "Too late. The public has spoken."

 "What public? Three people liked it!"

 "Three people who now believe I'm a happy man."

 I hung up.

 Then I opened the picture again.

 Unfortunately, it was actually a good picture.

 Which made me even angrier.

 ---

 The following evening, I discovered that Zara Mitchell had apparently decided to make me her personal research project.

 I was sitting on my couch when an unfamiliar number called.

 I answered cautiously.

 "Hello?"

 "Is this Ava Bennett?"

 The woman's voice was smooth and controlled.

 "Yes. Who's this?"

 "Zara Mitchell."

 I sat upright.

 Oh.

 Oh, no.

 I had never spoken to Zara directly, but Damien had told me enough about her to recognize the name immediately.

 "Hi," I replied carefully.

 "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

 Considering she'd called me out of nowhere, I had several opinions about that.

 "Not really. Is everything okay?"

 A brief pause followed.

 "I wanted to ask you something about Damien."

 Of course she did.

 I leaned back against the couch.

 "Okay."

 "I heard you two are dating."

 I swallowed a laugh.

 News travelled faster than common sense in our social circle.

 "Yes," I replied.

 "How long?"

 I hesitated for half a second.

 Damien's ridiculous relationship plan flashed through my mind.

 A believable timeline.

 A convincing story.

 A few weeks.

 "We've been seeing each other for a little while," I said.

 "How long is a little while?"

 I stared at the ceiling.

 Why did this feel like a police interrogation?

 "Why are you asking me?"

 The silence on the other end lasted long enough to make me wonder whether she'd hung up.

 Then Zara spoke again.

 "Because Damien and I were together for almost a year. I know him very well, and I find it difficult to believe he's suddenly dating his best friend."

 I tightened my grip on the phone.

 "People move on, Zara."

 "Of course they do."

 Her voice was pleasant.

 Too pleasant.

 "But Damien has never looked at you that way."

 My stomach tightened slightly.

 I reminded myself that this was pretend.

 That we were friends.

 That none of this mattered.

 "Maybe you didn't notice everything about your relationship," I replied.

 A sharp silence followed.

 Then Zara laughed softly.

 "Interesting."

 I didn't like the sound of that.

 "Look, I don't know what you want me to say."

 "Nothing, Ava. I simply wanted to hear it from you."

 "Well, now you have."

 "Yes. I have."

 Another pause.

 Then she added, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

 My patience snapped.

 "I'm sorry?"

 "Damien can be complicated. He has a way of making people believe they're special."

 I sat forward.

 "Is that supposed to be a warning?"

 "Take it however you like."

 I let out a slow breath.

 "Listen, Zara. Whatever happened between you and Damien is between the two of you. I'm not interested in discussing your past relationship, and I don't appreciate being called to justify mine."

 For the first time, her voice lost some of its sweetness.

 "Your relationship?"

 I nearly groaned.

 Yes, Zara. The relationship.

 The completely fictional relationship that was currently ruining my peace.

 "Yes," I said firmly. "Mine."

 She was quiet for a moment.

 Then she said, "We'll see how long it lasts."

 The call ended.

 I stared at my phone.

 Then I lowered it slowly.

 "What the actual hell?"

 My phone rang again.

 Damien.

 I answered immediately.

 "Your ex just called me!"

 "I know."

 I blinked.

 "You know?"

 "She called me right after you."

 I stood up.

 "And you didn't think to warn me?"

 "I didn't know she'd call you!"

 I began pacing around the living room.

 "She interrogated me, Damien! She asked how long we'd been dating, questioned whether you actually liked me, and basically told me I was making a terrible mistake!"

 He was quiet for a moment.

 Then he asked, "What did you tell her?"

 I stopped pacing.

 "That we're dating."

 "Good."

 "Good?"

 "Yes. You didn't give her a reason to doubt us."

 I stared at the wall.

 This man was going to be the death of me.

 "Damien, she threatened me."

 His tone changed immediately.

 "What?"

 "She said I should be careful about getting involved with you."

 He exhaled sharply.

 "I'm sorry, Ava. I didn't expect her to drag you into this."

 For once, there was no teasing in his voice.

 I sat back down.

 "Do you think she'll stop?"

 "I honestly don't know."

 The answer unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

 Damien continued, "But if she contacts you again and makes you uncomfortable, tell me. You don't have to handle her alone."

 I swallowed.

 "Okay."

 "And Ava?"

 "Yeah?"

 "Thank you for standing your ground."

 I smiled faintly.

 "Don't get emotional. You're still buying me dinner."

 He laughed softly.

 "Wouldn't dream of forgetting."

 We ended the call a few minutes later.

 I put my phone down and tried to forget about Zara's warning.

 I told myself she was simply struggling to accept the breakup.

 I told myself her questions were normal.

 And I told myself there was nothing to worry about.

 But as I sat alone in my apartment, one thought refused to leave me.

 Zara hadn't sounded like a woman who was simply heartbroken.

 She'd sounded like someone who was looking for a reason to believe our relationship was a lie.

 And if she discovered the truth, our little arrangement would be over before it had even begun.

 I just didn't know that Zara Mitchell wasn't the kind of woman who would stop at exposing a lie.

 Not when she believed someone had taken what belonged to her.