Page 32 of Fake Crown

“Even extreme extroverts sometimes need a five-minute recharge. Plus, being out here reminds me a bit of home. The smell of the ocean, the lights glinting off the water, the breeze whipping through my hair.”

I lean against the other side of the stone arch and stare out at the ocean with her. “You want me to leave you alone with your thoughts?”

“Not really.” She glances over her shoulder toward where the music drifts out.

“Why’d you come to America for college if you miss home so much?” I ask.

“The only college on Bellerive is a trades school. If I wanted to be a carpenter, a plumber, an electrician, or a host of other practical professions, I could have stayed. But I wanted to be an interior designer.”

“Making the world prettier.”

“One color palette at a time.” The wind catches a few tendrils of her hair, and she lets them fly, untouched. “They’ll be starting the first dances soon.”

There’s something about being close to Posey in front of all those people that feels too much like a performance when I’d prefer it to be real. She’s probably right about the timing, since the music gets louder as the next slow song starts.

I tip up the rest of my drink and set the cup on the ground. With a flourish, I hold out my hand. “All your favorite things are out here. Dance with me.”

“Seems a bit too romantic.” She takes a sip of her drink and eyes me.

“I promise to talk about my ex-girlfriend the entire time we dance.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” She drains the rest of her rum swizzle and grasps my hand.

When she enters my embrace, I rest my other hand against the warm, bare skin of her back. Despite my vow to talk about Val, I let silence stretch between us. I’m enjoying the feel of her pressed against me while the wind and the waves serenade us at the same level as the music being carried toward us.

In six years, I’ll have either broken Phelps’s records, or I’ll have sacrificed everything trying. When that’s over, I want to remember this moment, how it felt to have a woman like Posey in my arms. She’s making me realize that beyond the medals and swimming glory, eventually I want to chase a real relationship, one that makes everything in me solid and happy instead of angry and volatile.

This weekend is a vacation, though. It’s not real life, and in my real life, there’s no room for a woman like her. Not yet. But it’s fun to play pretend.

Posey

The music drifts out of the hotel, and Brent has me pressed against him as we sway together. While I accused him of being too romantic, I can’t deny how much I’m enjoying this moment. The reminders of home in the smell of the ocean, the swirl of the breeze around us, and the solidness of him, are a perfect combination. Things I long for melded with the one I lust after.

He might be turning out to be better than I initially expected, but it’s still his body I’m interested in. Nothing more.

“I noticed Val disappeared from the dining room about the same time as you.”

“She followed me to the bathroom,” he says.

“And?”

“She tried to convince me that our shallow, dysfunctional relationship is actually the best thing for me for the next six years.”

I emit a low laugh and graze my fingertips against the nape of my neck. “And?”

“And then she stuck her hand down my pants, and I was, I will admit, a little tempted.”

“Little? Brent, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. If you were tempted, nothing about that was little.”

He spins me around, and I let out a surprised laugh before he dips me low. “When you put it that way...”

“Was it only the big guy tempted, or was Brent tempted too?” The idea of him going back to her sours my stomach, but I don’t know why. Whatever happens between us this weekend is temporary. If he wants to resume his shallow relationship with her, that’s up to him.

He sets me on my feet, and he picks up our discarded cups from the ground. “She thinks she can convince me. Next week she’s going to stop by my place so we can talk again.”

“Which body part is she hoping will spring to attention during that conversation?”

“In the past, when she pulled stunts like today, I’d be consumed with jealousy, and we’d get back together. Or if jealousy didn’t win out, her persistence to get me back would.” He grabs my hand, and he leads us back to the wedding. “I’m not jealous this time, so she’ll hit me hard with persistence.”