Page 101 of Secret Love
“An escort?” I repeat, blinking twice. “You mean, like a… prostitute?”
He swallows. “Yeah.”
I feel a jealous twitch in my stomach. “And you know her because you and her…”
“Yes. I mean, no, but we have spent time together because…” he hesitates, “she reminded me of you. I needed someone to talk to and she was…”
The red-headed girl passes by with a backpack and taps the call button on the elevator. I quickly slide my sunglasses back on and we wait until the doors close and we’re alone again.
Fox clears his throat. “She was a reminder of what I lost and what I never had,” he says. “Somewhere in-between, I found comfort.”
“Because she looks like me?” I ask.
His face falls even more. “Yeah,” he says.
I study his expression, full of pain and shame. He went through hell to escape Snake Eyes, but he never really came back. He made a home in the darkness. I can relate, in a way. I can understand the need for human connection, no matter how superficial it is.
“It’s all right,” I say. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
I nod. “Whenever I’d see some guy who looked like you, even just a little bit, I’d turn my head so I could only see him out of the corner of my eye. I’d just… pretend it was you. I don’t know why, but I guess it gave me…”
“Hope,” he finishes.
I smile weakly. “Yeah.”
Fox turns up his hand and I take it. We entwine our fingers, looking so deeply into one another. Two hearts forever linked no matter how hard others try to tear us apart.
“Do you really think she’ll help?” I ask.
Fox squints. “It’ll take some convincing, but I think so.”
“Good.”
A smile fights my lips. I manage to keep it steady.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“You told her your name was Channing Tatum?”
He rolls his eyes and tugs my arm to lead me back down the hall. “Come on.”
“I can’t wait to tell him about this,” I joke.
Fox glares at me out of the corner of his eyes before knocking on her door again.
It opens instantly and Darla glowers at both of us. She gestures us inside and closes the door, locking it with a swift flick of her wrist.
* * *
“So, I just have to stand there?” Darla asks with her head hanging down into her bathroom sink.
I stand over her with plastic gloves, running my fingers through her hair as black dye water spills down the white, porcelain drain.
“And don’t speak either,” Fox says from the connected dorm room. “Your voices are pretty different…”
I catch him glancing inside, but he quickly looks away, pretending that he wasn’t just sneaking a peek at her tight, push-up bra. He probably wasn’t, but I don’t mind teasing him about it. The shame on his face is just too adorable for words.