I paced back and forth, wondering if he would show up. I bit my lower lip, chewed at my non-manicured nails, and scratched the back of my neck so hard it left red marks on my skin.

Leo Lee wanted to come over. Leo Lee wanted to console me. Leo Lee was my fake boyfriend, but I was single now, so what did that mean?

He'd appear at my door in his hot leather pants and a low-cut silk shirt and shrug his hands through his gorgeous hair. I'd be on my knees, begging to date him. I had little control over my urges as it was, but now? With my new situation, with Cameron potentially out of the picture? Who knew what might happen?

I calmed myself down by convincing myself that he wouldn't show up. He had a busy schedule with more important events to prepare for. Me? His fake girlfriend, crying over a break-up that he'd caused? Nah, he wouldn't visit me. There was no way he'd come strolling up to my door. Yes, he'd told me he cared about me, but did he care enough to make such a monumental effort? To be driven across town to make sure I was okay?

No.

But then I heard one of the sexiest sounds in history; a distinctive engine's purr that was music to my ears. A car revving up, speeding down the street. A sound that only hardcore Lamborghini fans would recognize; and as a fan myself, I knew it.

A Lamborghini, rolling down my street? Never.

I knew only one person who owned one such vehicle.

Leo was not only coming here, but he'd driven himself. He'd gotten out one of his gorgeous Lamborghinis and sped it from south Manhattan, all the way up to north Harlem, where my minuscule studio was located.

Did he know the access code to my building? Was that in his dossier on me?

I panicked. He'd be coming up the stairs any moment. Or he'd be discouraged at the lack of an elevator, and he'd call me to come meet him downstairs.

While I was busy staring at my phone, waiting for that call, I lost track of time. A knock came from the door, and I spun around to glare at it as if it had offended me.

"What the fuck?" I pinched myself. I was dreaming. Leo Lee didn't drive his fancy car here. He didn't park it on the street. What about the paparazzi?

This was someone else knocking. A neighbor who'd heard the Lamborghini and wanted to gush over it. Or it was my senior citizen from next door, who sometimes got lost and forgot which apartment was hers.

When I checked the peephole, my jaw dropped. My legs shook. My fingers grew numb, my cheeks loaded with fire.

Leo Lee was at my door.

It was as if I'd never met him. Never touched him, held him, danced with him, kissed him. The past few months erased from my memory as this wonderful, delicious man stood before my door, waiting to be let in.

"Emma?" His voice broke me from my reverie, and I hurried to unlock the door and open it.

"Leo," I said, winded as if I'd been the one climbing the stairs, and not him.

"There you are." His hands were in the pockets of his baggy lounge pants. He wore a white t-shirt under his signature black leather jacket. His blond tresses were more tamed than I'd have expected, and his skin was fresh, shiny from moisturizer.

The fact that I knew what moisturizer he wore spoke volumes. The fact that he was here, in his cozy attire that he never wore in front of anyone, told me he wasn't joking when he said he cared about me.

He dropped everything and came to me when I needed him most. Even when I didn't think I needed him.

"Are you going to gawk at me like I'm an illusion?" He laughed. "Or are you going to let me in?"

I scrambled backwards and opened the door wider. "Forgive me for the chaos."

He walked in, and I got a whiff of his candy-like cologne and had to hold myself back from grabbing him, pressing my nose to his skin to smell more of him.

"Chaos?" He spun on his heels and smirked at me as he removed his jacket. "Are you Spring cleaning or dumping every single item you own?"

"I'm," I gulped, "preparing. In case I have to move. Get to move. Packing stuff up, you know." Why was I so tongue-tied? I knew Leo; this wasn't an introduction. This wasn't my first time alone with him, and it wasn't like we'd never gotten physically close. "Just preparing."

This was our first time in my apartment, in my privacy. Something felt different; about him, about me, and about the two of us standing there awkwardly in silence.

"Preparing." He nodded, then peered around the room. "Looks cute, aside from the boxes." He smiled at me, staring straight into my soul, and my body temperature rose. He spoke of the apartment but was actually referring to me. I looked cute, aside from the lack of make-up, the puffy eyes, the grungy outfit.

"I'm sorry," I said, waving him over to the couch, shoving a few more boxes out of the way. While waiting to see if he'd show up, I'd gotten so caught up pacing and imagining that I hadn't tidied up much. I hung a few dresses and shirts, shooed my shoes under the bed, fluffed the cushions, did the dishes. But the boxes and the disarray were still present. "It's so rare for me to have company, and with Cameron leaving..."

"You haven't left the apartment since, have you?" Leo sat and patted the space beside him. "You do know how to wallow, I'll admit that."

Was it wallowing, or laziness? Or refusal to acknowledge that Cameron had dumped me for a hypothesis I hadn't even confirmed or corrected?

"I'm a fucking mess." I stood before him and pointed at my face, at the fractures I was certain lined my skin, bearing my wounded soul beneath. "This isn't the way I wanted to show myself in front of you, ever. All pulled apart and stretched thin at once—a big, blubbering mess." The tears I'd managed to hold in were coming back.

Leo had never seen me cry, and I didn't want him to.

"Blubbering, maybe," he said, scooching closer, drawing me into sitting beside him. "But not big, and not fucking. Sure, you're a mess." He took my hand. "I'm a mess, too. We've been burned by the same person, for different reasons, and it took a toll on us. But you," he gently tucked a stray hair behind my ear, "are beautiful, Emma. Charming in your pain; I know, that sounds bad, but it is a compliment."

I opened my mouth but had no clue what to reply. Thank him? Scold him for being adorable at this moment, abusing my weakness for him by flattering me? Ignore him?

"I never wanted you to see me like this." I peered into my lap, my lower lip puffing up.

"You think that because I'm a famous rockstar that I don't have any down moments? That I haven't hidden those from you?" He scoffed. "I'm human. With tons of money and renown, but a living, breathing being like you."

I came close to blurting out that no, he wasn't human, he was a god.

"In any case," he squeezed my hand, "I've seen you hungover, too, remember? Make-up melting down your face, smeared lipstick—and it was sexy as heck. This look on you, the wallowing, abandoned girlfriend look...I like it better."

I smiled through my sniffles. "You don't need to be so nice to me. Why," I hiccupped, "why are you here? You owe me nothing."

He set both hands on my shoulders. "Are you kidding me? You were Cameron's girlfriend, and you agreed to fake-date me to fix my reputation. You not only fixed it, but you showed me in a better light than anyone ever has." He pulled me into a hug, and I subconsciously nuzzled against his neck, drinking in his aroma. "I do owe you, and that's why I'm here."

I didn't believe him. He was here to get into my pants, right? To pick up the broken pieces Cameron had left behind, to schmooze me until I spread my legs for him and gave him what we both wanted? I was in no state for sex, no matter how appealing he was, no matter how delectable his aroma was. No matter how good his hands felt as they kneaded my back, keeping me locked tight in his embrace.

"Okay." He released me from the hug and placed his hands on my shoulders again. "Do you need to talk about it? Lash out? Vent? I'm here."

I wrinkled my nose. "You want me to bash Cameron in front of you? But you're his friend!"

"Right now, I'm your friend. Cameron abandoned us both, don't forget that." He patted my leg, and not in an invasive or suggestive way; it was friendly and comforting, helping me loosen up. "So, he broke up with you?"

I snorted. "Not even officially. He implied it by telling me I could handle you from now on because he was done. He walked out, and no news since."

Leo shook his head. "Sounds like him, unfortunately. Not to worsen the blow, but he has been notoriously bad at communicating in all the years I've known him. You're the first girlfriend he's been so upfront and comfortable with. And he fucked that up? What an idiot."

I relaxed into the couch pillows, groaning. "Before I go any further, I need to know; why do the two of you continuously insult each other? Granted, you're smoother about it, but I've paid attention to your tone. You keep saying you're friends who have known each other forever, but you're so mean to one another, and I don't get it."

Leo blushed, and looked away. "Here's the thing. Cameron and I...we dated in high school."

I gasped, ready to collapse off the couch. "Holy shit, that explains so much." I blinked at him, figuring out how to pick my jaw up from the floor. "But...shit, it also confuses me more. How did I not see this? Why haven't either of you told me?"

"It's," he inhaled, "complicated." He exhaled. "Like everything, yeah? The truth is, we don't talk about it. We don't mention it, especially to our significant others. We agreed to keep it on the down low. To avoid jealousy." He grumbled. "Which happened anyway, but on his end."

"You dated." I whistled. "I should have known. Can I ask...what happened?"

Leo winced. "I prefer not to get into details, but let's say we also agreed to stay friends and disregard everything that ever happened between us as lovers. We were always better as friends; that's how we started, in our first year of Junior High."

They went way further back than I initially thought. "Okay...but getting into a band with him, then quitting the band, then having him work for you in your new band? How? Why?"

"I know, it's weird." He cringed, stretching his legs out. "He was always the brains of the operation kind of guy, you know? The behind-the-scenes, business guy. That was why NEXUS broke up, did you know that? Because he didn't want to play anymore, and the others in the band were over it, too. But they all helped me find other musicians, and that's how SMASH happened. Cameron stayed with me and offered to be my manager, but since I already had one...I made him my highest level personal assistant."

My throat was dry. "I need a drink. Do you need a drink?" I hurried to the fridge and grimaced at the lack of appropriate beverages to serve him. "I have water, slightly stale rosé, or old, frozen vodka."

"Water is fine." He got more comfortable as he waited for me to deliver his drink, and as I sat beside him with my glass of rosé, he cleared his throat. "Cameron and I...it's a strange friendship. I had his back when we were young and stupid, and he was supposed to have mine now. Whatever was going through his mind...I can't begin to understand it or justify it, and I'm sorry he took you down with him."

My lips bunched side-to-side. "A huge slap to the face."

He caressed my cheek. "Don't hate him, please." His thumb-pad lingered near the corner of my mouth. "He doesn't deserve your forgiveness, but he's troubled." His eyes narrowed. "Here's the reality of it, and I want you to swear to never tell anyone."

I nodded. "I swear." Not that I had anyone to tell.

"Cameron stole a lot of my dates and significant others in high school, before and after we dated. It was some weird flex he kept using, because he was less privileged than me, so he thought he should have all the girls, the guys. He wanted to stand out." He angled away from me and frowned. "Now, I tend to steal his significant others, but not on purpose, I swear."

I arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really." He squared his shoulders. "It's a sick pattern, I'm aware. But with his attitude, he's ended it. Finally. I'm sorry it had to hurt you in the process."

"It did." I tried to sound stern, but I was still too emotional to be credible.

"I saw how crazy he was about you." Leo swallowed, then reached for his drink. "That was what scared me, when I told you how I felt. The heavy competition. That's why I hesitated." He took a few gulps and put his cup back down. "I hate, hate to say it, but this is all about you. We got you tangled up in our bullshit, and I don't think I can ever make it up to you."

"Well," I swallowed a few sips of wine, "I'm untangled now, aren't I? I didn't want it to be about me, and I got my wish. He decided for me by walking out. It's not fair. Maybe I wasn't ready to be untangled yet. Maybe I wasn't ready to make up my mind."

He raised his arms, bracing to pull me into another hug, but I slipped away from him. I didn't want embraces and pity and sympathy; I wanted Cameron to explain himself, to apologize, and to clarify what the fuck was going on.

"Stop," he said, lowering his arms. "Let me hold you, comfort you. Let your tears out. Crying in someone's arms is one of the best remedies, trust me."

I chewed on my tongue and clenched my fists, but there was no resisting him, no pretending that I didn't want a hug. Because I did. I needed one. I wanted the consolation, and he was here, and I couldn't have been more grateful, no matter his true intentions.

So I fell into his arms and sobbed, letting loose all my sorrows. I blabbered about my indecision and agony and struggle to be in two relationships at once. How much I'd cared for Cameron, and how blindsided I'd been by his behavior. I moaned about what would come next, what I would do next, now that Cameron was gone, and Leo and I's fake-relationship was on the rocks.

"Who said it was on the rocks?" Leo held me at arm's length, studying my face. "Did someone tell you we were done? Is the contract over?"

I glanced away. "I don't know. No one told me anything. I assumed, with Cameron gone, with me being responsible for it..."

"You're not responsible for any of this. Not as far as I'm concerned." He cocked his head. "Did you want this to be over?"

The question burned through me. He originally asked me weeks ago, and I'd left him hanging. Now I was on the spot, and it was only fair for me to figure my shit out.

"No." I flinched. "Yes." I huffed. "Argh, I don't fucking know."

Leo swung his arm around me, keeping me close. "What do you want to happen? Do you want to keep seeing me like this? Keep going on our staged dates and having meaningful conversations and eating exquisite food? Taking things easy, posing for cameras, attending awesome events together?"

As much as I loathed the posing for cameras aspect, I did like everything else. The flashes hurt, but the luxury was invigorating, intense, fun.

If I kept up with the ruse of dating him, I'd still get paid, and it would give me more time to work on my portfolio.

"I would enjoy all that." My head was turned, and I had no doubt that if I moved it, if I glanced at him, I'd see stars in his eyes and buckle at the sight of his beautiful face.

Reading my mind, he turned my head for me. Our gazes met. I was star-struck all over again, lost in his eyes, hypnotized by his scent, desperate to press my palms to his chest. I was seconds away from surrendering.

"And would you like to keep doing this?" He pressed his lips to mine, soft, slow, warm. And again, but more insistent, deeper. His tongue was waiting to find mine, and the more he kissed me, the less restraint I had. I let him in, and he held my neck and cupped my cheek as he explored my mouth with deftness.

When we broke apart, breathing harshly, hearts pumping, he raised his eyebrows.

"So?" He licked his lips, absorbing how I tasted. "Do you want to keep doing that, too?"

I did. I wanted all of it, all of him. He was my dream man come to life, and he wanted me. For months I'd convinced myself it wasn't right, I shouldn't be desiring him like this; but all the pushing back only launched me further into him.

At last, I was free to give myself to him completely, without guilt.

Cameron broke my heart. Would Leo be the one to mend it? The wound was still raw and wouldn't heal fast. I wasn't ready to hop into bed with him; but this, the hugging, the kissing, the gentleness was enough. If he was offering it, I needed to accept.

"Yes. I want to keep doing it." I brushed my lips against his. "And eventually, more."

He kissed me again and again, and each time the intensity grew. My body shook, my lower half swelled with need.

"Before we go on," he separated our lips, to my dismay, "I need to know one more thing." He squinted at me. "For real, or fake?"

That was the question. Were we playing? Were we acting? Or were we moving past the games and officially doing this?

What did I want, deep down?

Leo. I want Leo.

I smiled at him. "For real."

♪♪♪