My jaw kept wanting to drop, and I had little energy to fix it. Strangely, my buzz was gone, and though I was groggy, I could see clearly.

Clearly enough to realize that I'd woken from a wet dream about Leo, only to find Leo sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at me like I'd chopped off all my hair on a whim.

"Huh?" I yanked the covers up—my cleavage was spilling over, and I caught Leo ogling—and crossed my arms. "What's going on?"

"You tell me," he said, a hint of a smile over his pouty lips. "You're the one who looks like she saw a ghost." He chuckled. "And covering up as if I was about to attack you. You have nothing to hide, Emma. I've seen it all, and as gorgeous as you are, I respect you. I won't stare at your boobs—not for too long, at least."

"Seen it all?" I pressed my arms harder against myself. "Last night?"

I had no notion of how much time had passed, how long I'd slept, and when I'd started trying to finger myself in my sleep.

"Yeah, because you literally stripped in front of me before collapsing into bed. You were snoring before I even got out of the room." He shook his head, smirking. "Adorable."

Stripping, collapsing, and snoring? I blushed so hard my cheeks hurt.

"Fuck, I'm an embarrassment, aren't I?" I massaged my temples, where a migraine was starting to form. "This is a disaster. I'm sorry. Did your friends all hate me?"

He stood up and waded over to sit closer to me. I flinched at his proximity, my wet dream about him still too fresh in my mind. "Hey," he patted my arm, "don't worry, you were fine. Most of them were more intoxicated than you, believe it or not. That's how they like to party, and if they see someone having fun, too, they love it. My security team shoved them into cabs and Ubers, and they all texted how much they liked you."

"Ugh," I dragged a hand down my face, "what else did I do? Besides stripping in front of you, I mean. I only remember snippets."

"You talked a lot," he chuckled, "but otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary. No dancing on tables or groping. Though you and I danced," he winced, "and things got a little heated, so I apologize for that. I didn't realize how drunk you were at the time, but you were, um..." A glow came from behind the curtained windows, basking parts of him in subtle light. His cheeks reddened. "You went along with it, so I assumed you were playing the game with me."

I groaned, wanting to pull the blankets over myself. "I talked a lot? Shit." My head was spinning. When I was heavily inebriated, crazy things came out of my mouth. And with all the conflicted emotions I had inside lately, who the fuck knew what I'd said to all these strangers. "Shit, shit. This is bad. Do you know what I was telling people? Did you overhear anything?"

"No." Leo's face grew serious. "They would have told me if you'd said anything messed up. Why?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Were there things you weren't supposed to say? Things you didn't want me to know?"

I shook my head, but the motion made me nauseous. "No, no, nothing like that, but I...tend to ramble and talk nonsense when I'm drunk. I worry that I embarrassed you."

"I promise you didn't. Everything is fine." The warmth in his tone almost calmed me down, but I wouldn't be fooled by his charming demeanor. Who the hell was so charming after so many drinks and drugs?

As I was about to slither under the covers, he got up from the bed.

"Should I go home, then?" I opted to stretch, now that he'd moved away from me.

"No, not yet." He had his back to me and was rubbing his neck as he spun around. "I have a favor to ask." He marched over to the windows, and gently pulled the drapes aside, revealing lights much brighter than what I'd remembered yesterday.

No, not city lights—actual light. Sunlight.

"What time is it?" As I asked, I checked my phone, which I'd apparently fallen asleep with. "Eight? Jeez." I had a few message icons blinking at me, from Cameron. That one I'd supposedly gotten from Leo...it must have been part of my dream, because as I perused through Cameron's texts, I didn't see anything. No Leo summoning me to his room or otherwise.

"Can you come with me to my room?" He swiveled, resting his back against the window.

I froze. The words were too reminiscent of the fake text in my dream, and of what I'd just been thinking about. Too close to home, too soon. Had he heard me mumbling in my sleep? Or was it a coincidence?

I must have been visibly panicking, because he hurried over to my side of the bed and kneeled next to me. "Hey, hey, you okay? You turned kind of green, do you need a bowl?"

I shook my head again, slower this time; I'd learned my lesson. "No, it's not that. I'm...not going to be sick." I waved at him to get up. "Go to your room? What for?"

"Ah," he said, straightening up and hopping onto the bed again. "I shouldn't have talked with you about this when we were both intoxicated." He offered me a shy smile. "Candid pictures of us waking up together? It'll be quick, and then I can have my staff fix you some breakfast, if you're up for it."

"Coffee?" I contained my angst at the idea of getting into bed with him, for real. "If coffee is included, you have a deal."

He nodded, and got up, reaching out to help me stand. I hesitated, since I was still in my lingerie. He put a hand over his eyes and laughed. "I'm not looking. There are robes in the closet, if you want to grab one."

As he stood there with masked eyes, I flurried over to a set of doors that I assumed would be a walk-in wardrobe. Behind those doors, I discovered a large space filled with all sorts of men's and women's clothes, shoes, accessories. A satin robe hung from the back of the door, and I grabbed it, sweeping it over myself.

"I'm decent," I said, coming up to stand beside him. "Let's go do this." I almost said get this over with, but I didn't want to offend him, or make it seem like I didn't want to do this.

The truth was that I didn't, but not for the reasons he'd expect. I didn't want to lie next to him because I'd be tempted to reenact my dream. I didn't want to pose for candid morning pictures with him because I wasn't playing anymore. The sentiments that would show on my face would be real, which would be to his benefit; but not to mine.

He guided me out of the room, and I didn't remember a single moment of coming here in the first place. None of the intricate portraits lining the walls, or the comforting carpet under my feet. None of the twists and turns that led us back out to the main party area, which was now vacant, swept clean as if no one had ever been there.

I had no idea where I'd ditched my shoes or my dress, but the robe was soft on my skin, soothing. I forgot about the migraine spreading across my forehead. Forgot about the storm of emotions boiling inside me, desperate to break out. I couldn't let them.

I was falling faster now that I knew how decently Leo had treated me last night. Not demeaning me or mocking me for my lack of alcohol tolerance. Not taking advantage of my near nudity when he very well could have, because I very much would have let it happen. He had so many opportunities to touch me, to do all sorts of nasty things; and the fact that he hadn't was immensely flattering, but also deeply disturbing. It meant he had incredible restraint or wasn't attracted to me at all.

"I am into you, Emma."

That voice, those words; echoing in my mind, so real I wondered if I'd imagined them, or if Leo had said them.

"Through here," he said, opening a door for me and taking me into an opulent, gold-lined room with colorful guitars hanging on the walls. The carpet was thick, and black. An enormous bed stacked against the wall across from me, with purple satin sheets and matching pillows. A prune-colored canopy floated overhead, and see-through lavender drapes hung from its top. It was a princess bed, but fit for a king. For a star. A rockstar.

"Wow," I said, as he closed the door behind me. I noted the doors on either side of the bed, both opened. One led into what appeared to be a black marble bathroom; the other was a walk-in closet, but so vast I could only see the first few rows of clothing. "This is...a lot."

Leo walked past me, rolling his eyes. "It's too much. This is why I rarely spend the night here. Yes, I decorated it," he snickered, "but it was in my earlier rock days, when I thought everything had to be big and boisterous. My room at the town house is much more understated."

I nodded, remembering that; he'd showed it to me during a tour, and though it was about the same size, it definitely wasn't this over-decorated and in-your-face with luxury.

He hopped onto the bed and shoved a few pillows aside. The window's curtains were open, showing a view on the terrace. Light pooled in and basked over his face as he motioned me over. "We'll be quick."

I tiptoed over, my gaze fixed on the guitars. Rounded, triangular, square, some with neon strings; I recognized one or two of them from pictures in magazines.

Getting into the sheets made me blush. I bit my lower lip as I removed my robe, and he watched me, never removing his gaze from mine. He didn't flinch, didn't budge; either he was stellar at maintaining eye-contact when a half-naked woman sat beside him, or, again, he wasn't attracted.

"Here," he said, patting one of the pillows. "Lay here, spread your hair out." His hand grazed my cheek as he helped me fluff out my curls. "Beautiful."

My cheeks overheated as I silently begged him to hurry up. He snuck in beside me, and told me to close my eyes, pretend to be asleep while he snapped pictures with his phone. I kept laughing, at first, but eventually he got a few photos, before he asked me to do the same with him.

Once we were done with that, he pulled me close, pressing our noses together, as he lifted the phone above us.

"Don't move," he said, pressing the camera button with his thumb. "Is it okay if we...kiss? Just for one picture."

I had hardcore morning breath, but he didn't; he smelled like mint mouthwash, and I was ashamed of not having had time to fix myself up. I'd had no glance in a mirror, and all my make-up must have smeared everywhere.

"Sure," I said, my voice trembling.

He wetted his lips and pressed them to mine, so delicately, as if they were made of porcelain. I responded to the kiss, and heard the camera click several times; but he didn't quit kissing me.

Part of me wanted to push him back, to stop. He'd snapped a good dozen of pictures; did he really need more? But the other part of me enjoyed the softness of his kiss, the quiet sensuality of it. It wasn't urgent and yearning like our first kiss was, nor was it as passionate and sexy as those in my dreams. Like a sweet, good-morning kiss exchanged between lovers. Legitimate lovers.

Something fluttered in my belly, and I put my hands on his chest to gently push him away. "Stop," I said, abruptly sitting upright. "Stop, we're good."

"Okay?" He sat up too and kneaded his fingers across my back. "Are you all right? Or was that too much? Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away."

"But why did you?" My voice came out harsher than I'd planned, and I cringed. "Get carried away. Do you need to post pictures of us making out in the morning now, too? What more do these vultures want?"

"Vultures?" He moved to sit in front of me, frowning. "The press? The fans?"

"Everyone." I inhaled a big breath, then released it, slumping over. The sheets partially covered my nudity, but I no longer cared. Not until I figured out what kind of game Leo was playing. "You, too. Maybe not a vulture, but you...you confuse me."

His eyebrows shot up. "Me?" He arched his spine, and his t-shirt clung to his figure, the sleeves looking ready to burst around his muscular arms. "I confuse you?"

I had to ask. I had to know if his words had been in my dream, or if I'd made them up in my drunken stupor.

"Did I hallucinate last night, or did you say something about being into me?" I pulled my knees to my chest. "Did I ask you about that, too? This is all so messy."

His expression softened. He looked ready to reach out and touch me but perceived that that was the last thing I wanted. "You're referring to me being into you, and how I have been since I first met you?" He smiled. "I'm surprised you remember that. I did say it."

I narrowed my gaze. "Is it true?"

He narrowed his gaze, too. "It is."

"Do you say that to all the women and men you're fake dating? Is that a trend of yours I should have been aware of before accepting this?" I wrapped my arms around my legs, resting my chin on my knees.

"I don't," he said, almost speaking before I'd finished my question. "I never say that to anyone. But you..." He closed his eyes and exhaled. "I'm serious about you."

"You..." I batted my eyelashes and leaned backwards. "You mean you like me?"

He tilted his head side-to-side. "I'd say a little more than like, but yeah, if that's how you want to process it." He dropped his chin. "But I never meant to admit that to you. I would never move in on Cameron's territory. You're his, and you care about him, and that's clear enough to me. That's why I didn't push any further than kissing, but...I see that bothers you, too?"

I gritted my teeth, unsure how to respond without spilling out all my feelings. How to tell him I enjoyed all the kissing without leading him on? Without letting him believe I was on the verge of betraying Cameron?

"It...doesn't bother you?" Leo crossed his legs and studied me closely. "Are you still playing the game, or is there something more?"

I gulped. I smelled his deodorant, a wintry fresh scent that reminded me of the one Cameron used. "I don't know. I don't know. You...and Cameron..." My heart picked up speed. "I like you both. I care for you both. And I...don't know what to do. No, Leo, I'm not playing. I stopped playing a while ago, and it scares me."

Leo's lips pinched. "There's nothing to be scared of. Love triangles are a real thing, and they're messy."

I plunged my face between my knees. "Cameron should be my priority, but when I'm with you, I'm...wrapped up. He's perfect, you're perfect, and I'm in perfect shit because of it. Is it the fakeness of it all that's confusing me? Or something else? Ugh!" I fell backwards, my head swallowed up by the pillow, cushioned by its softness.

He wriggled up beside me, propping his head up, like he had in my dream. "The fakeness might have gotten to you. I've done this often, and never, not once, have I started falling for the person I was fake dating. This is a first."

I couldn't quite maintain his gaze anymore. "So, what does this mean? We keep faking it? We stop? Or..."

He fetched my hand from where I'd set it down, shivering. "It's not my decision to make."

"It isn't?" My eyes grew watery. I huffed, unclear on why my body wanted me to cry. It made no sense—I should have gotten up and stormed out of that room, grabbed my shit, and left to go be with Cameron. But it was as if a barbell trapped me, weighed me down, keeping me in place. Next to Leo.

"Look, my feelings for you...they're real. They have been real for a while." He turned away from me and glanced up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but when it did, it struck me, hard. I held it all in out of respect for you, for Cameron. So if you want to keep fake-dating because your feelings for Cameron overpower those you have for me, I accept that. I value it. I'll recover from this. But," he gazed at me, eyes serious, "the option is open for you and me to become real. But only if you end things with Cameron. No cheating."

What we were doing was borderline cheating, but I wouldn't argue. "I don't know if I can end things. I don't know what I want."

He brushed a hand over my face, under my eyes, and his finger came back wet. "I understand. But for your sake, and for his, you might want to find out."

I swallowed and wiped the tears that I'd unwillingly let out. "Will he get in trouble if I choose him over you? Or if I choose to end this fake relationship because it's too hard?"

Leo grimaced. "Never. I was wrong to corner him with this in the first place. I should have known you'd be the kind of woman who'd change my ways."

My own heart thudded against my ribcage. "Fuck. Must you make this more difficult by being so damn charming?" I sniffed, then laughed.

"The thing is...if you were to pull a one-eighty and choose me...he might not want to stick around. I'd accept that, of course. If he resigns, that's fine, and he'll be allowed to go work for whoever he wants. I'd never make him stay in my staff and watch you and I together."

I sucked in a shaky breath. "And you?" I met his gaze and shuddered; all the emotions were on his face now, all those he'd been hiding from me, those I'd misinterpreted as fake, as part of the game. He liked me, for real. "If I only want to fake-date, will you be mad? If I stop all this, for our sanity?"

Leo's weak smile caught me by surprise. "I could never be mad at you, Emma."

What I needed was time, and I told him as much. He kissed my forehead, served me breakfast, and his driver took me home. He was going on another tour, so I'd get that time, he said.

No rush, no pressure, he said.

But there was a rush in my chest and pressure on my scalp. I wanted to take a long, long nap to recover from it all.

♪♪♪