Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(79)

“You probably think I’m a complete nutjob.”

“Um, I’m just a little…confused, I guess. Are you some kind of catfish?”

The lump in my throat hardened, because that’s basically what I was. I just hadn’t employed the internet to pretend to be someone else, I’d done it in real life. I couldn’t tell if that was better or worse.

“In a sense, yes.”

Suze looked out the window, head bobbing up and down. “Right,” she said again.

A moment of awkward silence fell. I didn’t know what else to say. Suze stood from the table. “This is a little weird, so, uh, I’m going to leave now.”

I deflated at her departure. This had gone so badly. She’d already reached the door of the café when I jumped to my feet and went after her, stepping out into the street.

“Wait, let me explain. If you still don’t want to know me after, then I’ll leave you alone, I promise,” I called out.

She was a few feet away when she stopped, turned around and walked back to me. “I guess it would be good to understand why you did this.”

I sucked in a breath, nodding. “I want to tell you.”

She blew out a breath and placed a hand on her hip. The awkwardness between us was palpable. I think it might’ve been better if she just got angry, at least that wouldn’t feel so unbearable. “Well, should we go back inside?” she asked, eyebrows lifting.

I inhaled deeply. “I live not too far from here. If you want, we can go to my house and I’ll explain everything.”

Suze was hesitant. “I’m not sure going to your house is the best idea.”

“True, but I promise I’m not some kind of serial killer. I just think if you see where I live, then you’ll be able to better understand why I did this.”

She stared at me for another long moment, seeming to conclude I wouldn’t harm her. Besides, without my heels, she was a good few inches taller than me. And she worked out. If it came to it, Suze could definitely take me in a fight.

“Fine. You have twenty minutes and then I have to get back to work.”

We started on the short walk to my house. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

She chewed her lip, glancing at me speculatively. “You better not blow it.”

“I won’t.”

Suze folded her arms, her body language a little defensive. “So, why did you do it? What was in it for you?”

I swallowed, readying myself to explain. “This is going to sound bizarre, but the night we first met, I’d just won a makeover at a drag show. That’s why I wasn’t dressed as myself. I didn’t go out with the intention of fooling you, but we just got talking and I felt so much more confident to pretend. My real self would never go to a bar and befriend someone like you, Suze. My real self had problems leaving the house, if I’m being honest.”

Something about what I said made her eyes soften. She looked like she felt a little sorry for me now. “So, you’re what, an agoraphobe?”

“Not quite. I do leave the house. But I’ve always had issues interacting with strangers, and people in general. Being Elodie helped me break free of that. Your friendship meant a lot to me. I knew it was wrong to lie, but I selfishly didn’t want to let you go.” When I looked at her, my eyes were full of a thousand apologies.

She folded her arms, let them fall to her sides, then refolded them again. “This is all a lot to take in. You should’ve just told me who you really were. I still would’ve wanted to get to know you.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t argue with her.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you. You didn’t deserve to be lied to, but really, being your friend, seeing you every week, and talking with you brightened my day. You’re so cool, Suze, and you’re kind and talented and strong. You’re the sort of person all women want as a best friend.”

I stopped talking when we reached my place. Suze was silent as I pulled out my keys and slotted them in the door.

“You live here?” she asked, sounding surprised.

I nodded and led her inside. Her attention went to the mural I’d painted on the walls. She ran her hand over it and asked, “Did you do this?”

“Yes, I, um, have a lot of free time on my hands.”

I walked into the kitchen and she followed, gasping when she saw Skittles and Rainbow in their pretty antique cage, the cherry blossom fanning out on the wall behind them. For a second, I saw my house through her eyes, and it was pretty magical. I’d put a lot of time into making it a haven, and it was certainly that.

“How can you afford all this?” she asked, and it was a valid question. This was London, and a highly sought-after neighbourhood at that. It didn’t come cheap.

“I’m an author. I write books,” I replied. It was one of the first times I’d offered the information freely and it felt good. I definitely wasn’t the old Ellen anymore.

“You do? Which books?”

“Have you heard of the Sasha Orlando series?”

Suze blinked at me. “Yes, I, um, I have. I’ve never read them, but those books are everywhere. Wow, Elodie. I mean, uh, Ellen.”

I swallowed and tugged on my sleeve, frowning as I confessed, “A lot of the stories I told you, they’re actually from my books.”