The Big Fake Read Online Penelope Bloom

Categories Genre: Funny, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
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“Hey,” he whispered, bending to bring his face close to mine. “You alright?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. I’m freaking out. They’re all staring at us.”

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and it actually helped a little. His other hand went to my back, rubbing a soothing circle. “You’re going to be fine. I’ve got you, okay?”

I nodded, hating how much better I felt with his assurances. But it was hard not to believe him. Dean seemed to walk through life with the confidence that he could handle anything thrown his way. He was confident beyond all reason or sense, and as irritating as that had been up until now, for once I was glad to have him at my side.

Although he was the one who got us into this mess, I thought.

The first round of the game had us sitting back to back in chairs someone had borrowed from the lobby. Each couple had their own little space, and my chair was turned so I was pointed toward Lizzie, who gave me a giddy smile and wave. She loved this sort of thing, too.

Bitterly, I thought how she probably would’ve been exactly the kind of girl Dean liked. He’d love how fun-loving and ready for adventure she was. Lizzie never said “no” to a good time, and she was actually pretty enough to believably date a guy like Dean. The two ladies hosting the event were explaining the rules while I was wondering if Dean had already noticed how pretty Lizzie was. Of course he had. Every guy I’d ever met noticed Lizzie. It was impossible to miss her.

I was handed a card with three questions. I was given a pencil and told to fill out the answers, and from what I gathered, the hosts were going to read our responses and our “significant others” would tell the crowd how many we got right.

Okay, I thought. This would be easy enough.

But then the host explained how the game was going to work. Our partner would guess our answer, and then the answer would be read to the crowd. In other words, we couldn’t cheat.

I studied the list of questions.

What is their favorite color? I thought about what I’d seen Dean wear. Usually dark or neutral suits with a pop of color. Hadn’t I seen green on his phone case? I really wasn’t sure, but I did know people really only chose from a pool of like three colors when it came to favorites. Blue was the cliche, green was a close runner up. Dean didn’t strike me as a “black like my soul” type, and what kind of psychopath would say a color like gray? Colors like yellow, orange, red, and purple were also a slim chance. With a quick shrug, I jotted down “Green”.

What was the most embarrassing thing they’ve ever done in front of you? I grinned. There was no point trying to get this one right. I had no chance. The only thing to do was make up something super embarrassing and watch the crowd’s reaction when the hosts read it to them. In other words, it was my chance for a tiny bit of payback on my “Daddypums”. I tapped the pencil to my lip, searching for something appropriately humiliating. After brainstorming for a solid minute, I was laughing to myself as I scribbled down the totally fabricated answer.

When did you know they were the one? I wanted to sigh. At best, I was going to get one out of three right. I suddenly wished I’d taken Dean’s suggestion to get to know each other back in the room a little more seriously. At least I would’ve had some kind of framework to build on. As it was, I hardly knew anything about the man. My best hope with this one was to make up something sappy and sweet. We probably wouldn’t be on the same page, but it’d at least look like I was head over heels for the guy.

I desperately wanted to whisper to Dean and cheat, but the non-couple pair of partners already got in trouble and were booed by the crowd for trying to talk.

So I sat and waited until one of the hosts came and collected my card.

The host started with the pair of people who weren’t a couple. They did surprisingly well, only missing two questions. Next, she went to Lizzie and Jonas, who only got one right. Lizzie took the loss in good humor, but Jonas looked embarrassed or pissed that he’d been the one to screw it up for them.

When it was our turn, I found myself going rigid with worry, even though I couldn’t quite say why. Even the soon to be bride and groom had bombed the game, so why was I nervous?

“Okay, okay,” the host with our cards said, lowering a palm to the ground to urge the crowd to quiet. “Mr. Slater! What would your lovely lady say your favorite color is?”



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