Chapter 45. Is It Still Fake?

Tessa’s POV

They say the body never lies.

You can fake a smile. You can fake I’m fine. You can fake a whole relationship with seven rules written on the back of a syllabus. But you can’t fake the way your skin reacts when someone says your name in a fogged-up car at one in the morning.

I wake up on Tuesday with my lips still swollen and the black dress in a heap on my desk chair and the memory of last night sitting on my chest like a cat.

And Darcy is staring at me from across the room.

She’s propped up on her pillows with a mug of tea and a pain pill and the expression of a detective who has already solved the case and is just waiting for the confession.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Morning.”

“You came home at one forty-seven.”

“You were awake?”

“I’m on a lot of medication, Tessa. I’m awake at strange times. I see things.” She takes a slow sip of tea. “For example, I saw you come in with your dress on inside ou