Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 95: The Evening After

I barely had the front door closed when I felt it.

That presence.

The quiet, judgmental silence of someone waiting.

Then—

"Ahem." freewebnσvel.cøm

Aria.

Standing in the hallway like a human definitio of consequences, arms folded tight, foot tapping like she’d been counting the seconds since sunrise.

"Look who finally decided to show up."

"Oh no," I mumbled. "You’re already here."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh... five?"

"Five-oh-seven," she said crisply. "P.M. You were supposed to be back this morning. Morning, Isabella."

Her eyes raked me up and down. "You’re wearing the same clothes. And unless I’ve gone nose-blind, that’s not your perfume."

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. "It’s not what it looks like."

"Oh?" She tilted her head. "Because what it looks like is: you spent the night — and apparently the entire day — at Adrien Walton’s house and didn’t think to call, text, or send up a flare."

I stayed quiet.

Aria took a dramatic step forward. "You didn’t go to work. I thought you were coming home after a ’harmless PR night.’" She made air quotes around the last part. "But nooo... the clock kept ticking. I started thinking maybe Adrien kidnapped you for real. Maybe you got recruited into a cult. Maybe—"

I turned to walk past her.

"Nope!" she shot quickly, blocking my way out. "You don’t get to just walk away from this, Izzy."

"I—uh—overslept?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You overslept for twenty-four hours?

I blinked.

She gasped. "ISABELLA."

"I didn’t say anything!"

"Exactly." Aria marched toward me. "Which is why I am legally and morally obligated to extract details by force."

"Nope." I turned to run.

"Don’t run. That’s an admission of guilt."

"I’m not guilty of anything!"

"You’re glowing," she accused. "You have post sleepover glow. Do not lie to me."

I increased my pace.

"DON’T RUN, I HAVE STAMINA."

I barely made it to my bedroom before she tackled me onto the bed, full-body wrestling me into the bed. I squirmed under her weight, giggling like a lunatic.

"Confess or be tickled."

"You’re deranged."

"And you’re hiding something."

"Spill. Now."

"Never!"

"Tickle attack commencing in three—"

"AR—!"

"—two—"

"—one!"

Her fingers were ruthless. They found my sides, my ribs, my stomach – the places that made me dissolve into helpless laughter. I shrieked, thrashing wildly against the mattress, trying to roll away or buck her off.

"ARI-HA-HA-A! STO-HA-HA-P!"

"Details, Izzy! I need details!" she chanted between her attacks, her own breath hitching slightly with the exertion.

I couldn’t form a proper word, just gasping, laughing, and weakly pushing at her. My hot face, and stomach muscles were contracting involuntarily.

"Okay! Okay! Stop! I’ll te-hell you! Just stop!"

Suddenly, her hand froze and her eyes opened wide.

"Wait—what is that?!" she gasped, pointing at my neck.

I blinked at her. "What?"

Aria grabbed my chin and pushed my chin back to look closely. "Is that—Isabella, is that an HICKEY?!"

"I—I don’t know! I didn’t notice!"

Her eyes darted and then she let out a dramatic squeal, voice shooting up an octave. "No, no, no—there’s three more! Here, here, and—oh my god—right here!" She jabbed at each spot with exaggerated horror.

"Is this some kind of vampire attack? Did Adrien turn you?" She flailed, wide-eyed and totally losing it.

My hand flew to my neck, covering the spot instantly. "No! No, it’s not! It’s... it’s a mosquito bite!"

Aria snorted, a highly skeptical sound. "A perfectly circular, reddish-purple mosquito bite, right where your pulse point is? Do mosquitoes even like neck pulse points, Izzy? I think they prefer ankles."

"Get off!" I scrambled away, rolled off the bed and hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. I bolted towards the bathroom, desperate to hide.

"Oh no you don’t!" Aria was faster than I was. She lunged, and the moment I reached the doorframe she grabbed my ankle. "A mosquito bite? Really? After I just caught you glowing like a nuclear sunrise and smelling faintly of expensive cologne? This is prime evidence, Izzy! PRIME!"

I kicked weakly, trying to release myself from her octopus grip. "It is! I swear! It was a really aggressive mosquito!"

"Aggressive enough to leave a mark that screams ’I may have spent the night with a ridiculously attractive man and maybe, just maybe, things happened’?" she challenged, dragging me back towards the bed. "You’re basically walking around with a neck billboard that says ’I made out with a Greek god.’"

"Hey!"

"It’s true! Now, come here! We need good lighting for a proper examination."

"This is assault!"

"This is journalistic integrity!" she corrected, finally managing to pull me back onto the mattress.

She pinned my shoulders gently but firmly. "Adrien Walton the untouchable! The ice prince! Who knew he had such... enthusiastic oral tendencies? Wait—did you give him any back? Is he walking around with Izzy-shaped bruises on his neck?" She leaned back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Confess, Izzy. Spill every filthy, wonderful, details about what happened and that... that hickey of yours." "Don’t make me resort to extreme measures again."

"Fine, But if you squeal or interrupt, I’m stopping."

Aria snapped her lips shut and mimed locking them, throwing away an invisible key.

"So we made dinner together with paparazzi taking pictures of us. He made pasta and I helped with the salad and sauce and... we talked"

She paused. "Talked. That’s it?"

"Fine," I huffed. "He kissed me."

"How!!"

"I am not answering that."

She screamed into a pillow.

Dad’s rumble echoed from the hallway. "Are you girls okay over there or do I need to come referee?"

"We’re fine!" we both called back.

And then I continued

Told her about me snapping at him.

The stupid curtain button. And how he looked at me. Like he meant it.

How he apologized. And says some soul touching confession. And me kissing him this time around.

Aria’s eyes were wide saucers, glued to my face. Her body was rigid with suppressed energy, looking like a spring coiled too tight. She didn’t speak, her promise holding, but her breathing was shallow and rapid.

"And... and then things just... kind of happened." I trailed off, suddenly finding my duvet fascinating.

Aria let out a small, strangled sound that sounded like a dying seagull.

Her eyes shot from my face to my neck and back, practically vibrating with anticipation. She still hadn’t spoken, but her gaze was more demanding than any interrogation technique.

I shrank under her gaze, pulling the duvet farther up my chest. "I... look, it was a long night. We were in the kitchen. And... things got a bit... heated?" I mumbled, feeling my cheeks burn.

Aria gestured silently with her hands, miming something about what had happened. Her eyebrows were so high they were practically touching her hairline, begging for more.

"Okay, okay," I said.

"He’s... surprisingly not an ice prince behind closed doors," I muttered quietly, and I felt a real smile creeping onto my lips despite my embarrassment. "He was... attentive. And... really nice. And..." I trailed off again, the memories flooding back. The way he looked at me, the feel of his hands and his..

Aria leaned in close, her locked lips pressed tight, but her eyes screaming ’GIVE ME EVERYTHING! She tapped impatiently on the duvet with her finger.

"And... the hickeys?" she mouthed silently, pointing dramatically at her own neck.

My hand instinctively flew back to cover the spot. "Oh god, those," I groaned. "Yeah. That happened. He’s... thorough."

Aria let out a silent whoop of triumph and punched the air in excitement. She pointed at me, pointed at the hickey area, then drew a circle in the air with her finger, still asking about how it got there.

"Aria!" I whispered, mortified. "I’m not telling you that part! Use your imagination!"

She threw her head back in frustration, then mouthed, "BUT IS IT GOOD IMAGINATION?"

I chuckled. "It was... yeah. It was good. Really good."

She unlocked her lips with a loud pop and let out a long, drawn-out exhale like she had held her breath for twenty-four hours straight.

"Okay, follow-up questions: Was he a gentleman? Did he make breakfast? Is he a good kisser? What did you talk about after? Did you spoon?" She paused, finally remembering my earlier condition. "Okay, okay! No interruptions. Just... look at me and tell me what happened after!"

"He— he said he loves me after I called out..I don’t know. what last night meant."

"What."

"He said it— twice actually."

"Twice?!" she shrieked, finally breaking her silence in full force. Her hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me gently but frantically. "He said ’I love you’... twice?! The first time could have been a heat-of-the-moment thing, a sleep-deprived error, a temporary insanity caused by the pheromones of your aggressive mosquito bite! But TWICE? That’s... that’s intentional! That’s serious! Isabelle, you’ve somehow cracked the code! You’ve melted the Walton Iceberg! You’ve... you’ve gotten Adrien Walton to say he loves you!"

She collapsed onto the bed with the most dramatic sigh I have ever seen, like she was releasing all of the pent-up emotion she had been holding on to for months, maybe years. She looked up at the ceiling, a blissful smile spreading across her face.

"Do you know how long I have been WAITING for this? Decades."

She turned her sparkling eyes back towards me, propping herself up onto her elbows. "Okay, Izzy, Izzy, Izzy. My brave, amazing, hilariously awkward best friend. What did you say back? Please tell me you didn’t just faint. Please tell me you didn’t spontaneously combust. Please tell me you said something equally soul-baring and beautiful back to him."

Heat flared up my neck. I nodded. "I told him I love him too"

Aria gasped. It was not just a simple, big gasp. It was the full-body, chest-heaving, gasp that seemed to snatch all of the air from the room.

Her eyes opened even wider, if that was even physically possible, and once again she put her hands up to cover her mouth, muffling a sound that was so close to a pure delight.

She was silent for a moment, stunned, as she took in everything I had just said.

My face was probably crimson by now.

Finally, she dropped her hands. "YOU DID NOT." It wasn’t a question. It was a declaration of disbelief mixed with utter triumph. "You. Isabelle Miller. Said ’I love you’ to Adrien Walton. The Adrien Walton."

I shrugged awkwardly and pulled the duvet closer. "Uh, yeah. I did."

Aria pushed herself up into a seated position, cross-legged on the bed, staring at me like I was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

She leaned in closer, her eyes glimmering with excitement. "Okay, break it down. What did it feel like? Did the heavens open? Did doves descend? Did a choir of angels sing a glorious song called ’finally’?"

"Aria!"

New novel chapters are published on fr(e)ew𝒆bnov(e)l.com