The Truth About Faking (The Truth About, #1)

40

Jake

The following weekend does not include lazy morning sex like it would have weeks ago because I'm a man on a mission in the morning. Okay, that and Gemma won't return my calls or talk to me when she comes in to get her morning latté every other day during the week. Instead, I'm rounding up my wallet, keys, and Hanna. We're heading over to Morgane's house to discuss my plan for the upcoming reunion. It's quite possibly one of the most insane plans I've ever concocted because I'm not entirely sure if we'll even be able to get Gemma to come to the reunion or not.

It's been a week since Olive tried to make another move on me. A move that still causes me to shiver uncomfortably whenever I think about it. How Olive was able to simper and fawn over me in the office, when anyone from work could have walked in on us, was embarrassing and infuriating. Frankly, I'm still pissed off at her. If she hadn't of been there, something tells me this story would be entirely different. I can only assume that Gemma showed up at my office to talk to me about everything that happened. Until she saw Olive.

Fucking Olive.

"So, why do we have to go to Morgane's house this early?" Hanna mutters. Despite her complaining and the faint shadows beneath her eyes, Hanna looks awake and ready. "I hate getting up early."

"I know," I reply, pulling into the driveway of Morgane's house. "But bear with me, Han. I've got an idea about how to get back on Gemma's good side."

Hanna rolls her eyes and she practically slides out of the front seat of the truck. "I don't see why you can't just talk to her. She knows how much of a psychotic bitch Olive is. Gemma will understand that Olive tried to get in your pants even though you didn't want her two."

"First of all," I say, climbing out of the driver's seat. "I'm not comfortable with you using terminology like that." I close the door and jog around to the other side, meeting up with Hanna so we can walk up the stairs together. "Secondly, you weren't there; you didn't see Gemma's face when she caught Olive kissing me."

Hanna wrinkles her nose. "That's so disgusting."

"Tell me about it," I mutter, a shudder cascading down my spine. If there's one thing I wish I could forget, it's Olive's cherry-flavoured lips against mine. They were too eager – and sickeningly sweet when compared to Gemma's vanilla lip balm. I miss the hesitant familiarity of Gemma's lips. 

"Is Gemma going to be okay?" Hanna asks, her voice timid as we climb the steps to Morgane's front door. "I can't imagine how much that hurt her, seeing you with Olive."

I want to throw up whenever anyone mentions Olive's name. If she doesn't let up, I'm going to have to file for a restraining order, which probably won't sit well with Albert and the rest of their company. That being said, I don't feel guilty for considering it. Olive has imposed this upon herself. If she would listen to me and stop trying to corner me for suggestive reasoning, I would be open to considering being friends with her, maybe having her tag along with Cassian and I every once in a while. At least...that's what I thought before. Before she only deepened the rift between Gemma and I, hurting her even more than I ever intended to. Not that I ever intended to. The only reason I cut ties with her was that I was mad and couldn't think clearly; I hadn't expected Gemma to pull some crazy-ass pranks on me during the camping trip.  

Maybe everything that's happened is a sign that Gemma and I shouldn't be together. Maybe I should be smart and walk away. But I can't. I can't because it kills me that I can't have her, that I'm not waking up with her beside me or hearing her laugh or having late night conversations with her anymore. When Gemma's around, my life feels stable. As if all this time, she was the one piece that was missing. I feel empty without her. 

I run a hand through my hair, pushing the thoughts away. The past is in the past. What I need to focus on is fixing things. "I'm going to fix this, Han," I reply. "I have to."

"Because you still love Gemma." She says it as more of a statement than a question. "Because you know she didn't do anything wrong."

Stopping in place, I stare at my sister, realizing just how tall she's gotten over the past few months; she's almost at eye-level with me. I don't think I ever realized just how much she's grown up; I always call her my little sister, but I guess she's not so little anymore. Hanna's newfound observation skills aside, I notice she's got a smug little grin on her face. "What are you grinning about?"

She tries to stifle a giggle. "It's kind of funny what Gemma did to you, really. Like, embarrassing as hell, but still funny. I also feel special 'cause she made sure I didn't eat any of the pasta."

"And what makes you think that?"

"She purposely grossed me out with the speech about deveining shrimp, Jake. I don't think she would have gone out of her way to do that had she not cared about me."

Suddenly, I'm looking at this from a whole new perspective. I never thought about Gemma and Hanna's relationship, not once. And when I think back to how the two of them interacted, I feel a new level of guilt in my stomach. When I cut contact with Gemma after finding her notebook, not only did I take away our relationship, but also the one between her and Hanna; I took away their friendship.

Mentally, I sigh. It seems as though no matter what I try to do, I still end up fucking things up. "I'm sorry, Han," I say. "For taking her away from you. I know you and Gemma were – are really good friends. It wasn't my place to prevent the two of you from seeing each other."

Hanna shakes her head. "It's not entirely your fault, Jake. Gemma made the decision to stay away from me when she still could have talked to me. It's all just a big misunderstanding."

I certainly hope my sister is right.

When we come to the front door, I raise my fist, ready to knock. Before I can, however, the door opens and Morgane is standing in front of us. Her arms are crossed over her chest, the front of her flowy black dress. Her hair is tied up in a bun and sunglasses sit atop her head. 

"Hey," I say. Immediately, I want to kick myself. I practically had to beg Morgane to meet up with me, and the first thing I say is hey?

All she does is shake her head and look at Hanna. She sighs. "Kid, you gotta stop wearing that romper or else I'm going to steal it from you." While Hanna laughs, Morgane flicks her gaze to mine. "I won't punch you this time, but I can't guarantee what my legs will do."

I cringe, resisting the urge to rub my jaw as the memory of Morgane punching me rises to the surface. I glance down at her feet. She's wearing heels. Heels that could potentially sever my balls from my body if used correctly. I swallow thickly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Noted."

She steps to the side, welcoming Hanna and I inside. Hanna steps in first, kneeling down and off to the side while she unlaces her white Keds. As I'm passing Morgane, she grabs my bicep and pulls me close. Morgane is a few inches shorter than me, but that doesn't take away from the warning tone in her voice. "This plan of yours had better be a good one, Swift."

I meet her steady gaze with my own. "It is," I reply firmly.

She releases my bicep. "We'll see about that."

I stare into her eyes, a question sitting on the tip of my tongue. I want to ask if Gemma is okay, if she's said anything about me, or if she's suffering from the accidental damage the scene with Olive caused. But I know better than to ask Morgane questions about her best friend. Although Morgane's given me a chance to redeem myself, I know I'm far from being in her good books. 

Which is why, instead of caving in and asking all the questions I want answers to, I kick my shoes off and follow Morgane and Hanna into the kitchen, the plan I concocted last night at the forefront of my mind.