Fake it Baby_A Best Friend's Brother Romance

by Tia Siren

  “I dunno,” I said, “Maybe four or five. Anyways, that was only because I was dating that C-list actress for a few weeks, Calista Something.”

  I directed a reassuring smile toward Brooke.

  “Anyway, Jake’s exaggerating. Sure, they’ll pounce on anything that so much as sniffs of a clickbait or front-page story, but that’s just their job. Leave them alone, don’t do anything outrageous, and they’ll probably leave you alone.”

  Brooke nodded silently. Seeing her dismayed face, Jake tried doing damage control.

  “Yeah. I mean, thankfully you’ll probably never grace their pages, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  Again, a silent half-hearted nod.

  By now we’d arrived at Marble Table. As soon as she saw us, the hostess, Madeleine, gave us a pretty smile, then said, “Right this way, gentlemen.”

  I winked at Brooke. By now, Jake and I were regulars here, so we always got the best service.

  The hostess sat us at what Brooke coyly noted was a marble table. Soon, Stella came by to leave waters, and take our drink orders. Once she had left, I turned to Brooke, who was sitting beside Jake.

  “So,” I said, my gaze boring into her, “You’ve been working with us for a few days now.”

  “Yes,” Brooke said, her eyes widening slightly with concern.

  “So you can probably say who you like best by now then,” I said, casually.

  “Oh Jesus, Mark, are you twelve? Don’t be stupid,” Jake snapped, clearly annoyed.

  “No, really though,” I said, not peeling my gaze off of her for an instant. “I mean, if it’s that difficult, then you don’t have to pick one for everything overall—just like who’s the better doctor, better boss, better … man.”

  Brooke’s anxious glance went to me then to Jake, who looked downright pissed.

  “Seriously dude, we’re just trying to have a nice meal here, is it really the time?”

  I lifted the black pyramid salt shaker and set it down with clink.

  “Now seems a better time than during surgery.”

  Jake didn’t comment on that. Now, Brooke’s long-lashed hazel eyes were off to the side, thinking.

  “How about we wait and see, at least until the first week is over?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I replied, “While we’re at it, we should all go out tomorrow. Natalia is an old girlfriend of mine, she works at Gebraldine and will give us all the discounted alcohol we could want.”

  “Wow, Gebraldine,” Brooke said, her eyes sparkling with interest, “You must have been a good boyfriend.”

  Jake and I shared a laugh at that one.

  “Not exactly,” I admitted, “Unless you call breaking up with her for her sister being a good boyfriend.”

  Now Brooke was eyeing me with shock, while I felt embarrassment ripple through me.

  “So why would she give you cheap drinks then?”

  I shrugged.

  “I think she misses the old times. I’d feel bad, but it’s such a great venue. Nice girl and pretty, but we just never really clicked.”

  Brooke nodded, resting her chin on her hands.

  “It can be really hard to find someone you click with.”

  Now it was my shocked gaze studying her. It was ludicrous to think that someone as hot and personable as Brooke would have trouble finding someone to click with, but then again—

  “Here are your drinks,” the waitress drawled, plopping our reverse pyramid glasses down in front of us.

  “Have you decided what you’d like?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Brooke and I will be splitting the—”

  “Hey,” Jake said, cutting me off, “Brooke was going to split a plate with me.”

  I glared at him.

  “Is it the honey barbeque foie gras? It’s what this place is famous for, you know.”

  “Actually, it is,” he replied curtly.

  I threw up my hands.

  “Whatever.”

  As he recited what they were having, I snaked my foot along the floor in the direction of Brooke.

  “Sir?”

  Everyone was looking at me expectantly.

  “I’ll have the foie gras too please,” I grumbled.

  Once she’d left, I closed in. When my foot nudged Brooke, she sent me a surprised look, but said nothing. I assumed an innocent expression, as my foot rubbed against hers, snaking higher and higher up her leg.

  Until our meals arrived, I let her and Jake chat easily. I was the one who had my foot stroking up her leg, after all. Once our meals were there and we got to eating, I felt something nudge my foot as it made its way down.

  Jake and my gazes met in understanding. I smirked. Jake responded by sweeping his foie gras right into Brooke’s pink parted lips, then wiping off a smudge of sauce with his finger.

  I chowed down my foie gras as fast as I could, ignoring him. This was far from over.

  After work, Jake approached me. Brooke had left for the day, while Deidre was, of course, staying late to deal with God-only-knows what.

  “Hey man, want to go for a drink?” he asked.

  For a second, I scanned his face suspiciously. But his dark eyes were filled with a genuine good humor, so I agreed.

  At the bar of the Marble Table, Jake bought us two beers. After we’d clinked them and taken a big swig, he spoke.

  “So, about Brooke—”

  “I want her,” I cut in, before he could say anything.

  He frowned.

  “So do I.”

  I lifted my drink to him then took another gulp.

  “Quite the dilemma we have here then.”

  Hurt registered in Jake’s eyes.

  “I invited you here to talk this over, not to tell you that this is war.”

  Guilt panged at me, and I nodded.

  “Shit. Sorry. You’re right. I just—this has never happened before.”

  Jake nodded too, running a hand through his curly hair.

  “I know, but I don’t want it to be the last time.”

  “Huh?” I asked, and he waved his hand.

  “Forget that, it came out weird,” he said “What I wanted to say is that you’re my best friend, Mark. And not just because you’re the second most badass surgeon I know.”

  I rolled my eyes, holding back my own cocky grin.

  “Yeah, and you’re the second most badass surgeon I know too, old buddy.”

  Jake grinned, putting his arm around me so he could pat my shoulder.

  “Seriously though, man. You’ve gotten me through some big stuff. Through all the craziness of the University and then Med School. Then that shit-storm when Mary left. You’re my best friend, I don’t want anything to come between us.”

  He had his hand out now on the table. I took it and clasped it warmly.

  “I don’t want anything to come between us, either. I’m sorry I’ve been being an idiot about all this.”

  Jake smiled wryly.

  “We’ve all been an idiot about the new girl.”

  We chuckled together. Even Deidre had taken time out of her harried ineffective phone-answering to chat with Brooke about where she got her outfits. We’d already had a few patients comment on how good she was—and one who asked for her number. I told him to go fuck himself, after which, Jake apologized profusely and explained that it was against company policy and all.

  “Anyway,” Jake said, his hand still in mine, “I think we should shake on it, don’t you? Bros before hoes, as they say.”

  I grinned and nodded. Funny that we’d never had to use that quote until now.

  “Bros before hoes,” I repeated.

  Although after, as we left the Marble Table, I realized that neither of us had said that the other couldn’t go for her. Nor had either of us offered to step back. Bros before hoes—yeah right.

  Chapter 6

  Brooke

  Today was the day.

  It seemed stupid that I was as excited for tonight as I was. But I couldn’t help it�
�Karly was right. I didn’t have one crush—I had two. That whole work day, as both Mark and Jake bantered, teased and complimented me, I tried to decide. I really did.

  At lunch, Jake and I had a stirring discourse about art. Then I made my decision. Later that day, Mark grasped my hand while getting an instrument. I made my decision again.

  Now, I was in the bathroom getting ready. My little black dress was on and tight to perfection. My makeup was all done too—smoky eyes and creamy little pink lips. All there was left to do was make my decision—who was my choice? My reflection in the mirror didn’t seem to have it figured out any better than I did. So, sighing with frustration, I heaved my stuff into my oversize purse and strode out of the room.

  Mark and Jake were waiting in the hallway, having swapped their surgeon’s garb for nice cashmere sweaters. Their casual chitchat stopped dead at the sight of me.

  “Wow,” Jake said, “You look—”

  “Hot as fuck,” Mark said, grinning.

  “Mark,” Jake said.

  “What? We’re off work, I can swear if I fucking want to.”

  Jake paused, sighed, then said, “Fucking right you are.”

  We all laughed at that one.

  Outside, the boys each took one arm and we set off down the street. We got some looks as we passed, but I didn’t care. One sexy doctor on each arm felt damn nice.

  Even though it was early, Gebraldine was already packed. Under the neon green lights, Mark leaned across the mirrored countertop and talked to a gorgeous blonde.

  “Pretty, eh?” Jake said.

  “Yeah,” I said, watching them chat easily as she slid three drinks his way, “Seeing a girl like that. It makes you wonder—”

  “Why Mark wouldn’t be satisfied?” Jake asked.

  I nodded. He shrugged.

  “Who knows? Mark has never been one for settling down, or really connecting with a lot of people. Although I can’t say I’m much better.”

  Now his face had a certain hollowness to it, as if all the air had been taken out and it was on the verge of collapse.

  “What do you mean?”

  Already, Mark was eagerly gesturing us over. Jake just shook his curly head.

  “Forget it.”

  “One for you, one for you, and one for me,” Mark said, as he handed out the fuchsia liquid.

  I eyed it warily.

  “Do I want to know what’s in this?”

  Mark cracked a grin.

  “Nope. Let’s just say that it’s three parts alcohol, one part juice and still delicious.”

  With that, he downed the drink in one gulp. Jake and I exchanged a look, shrugged, clinked our glasses and did the same. The minute I finished, I could feel the alcohol buzzing in my brain.

  “Yep, that was strong,” I admitted.

  Already, Mark had his back to us and was ordering several more.

  “You better brace yourself then,” he said over his shoulder, “because we’re just getting started.”

  For some reason, instead of being worried, his statement brought a hot flush of excitement right through me.

  Two drinks later, we were striding onto the dance floor which replicated the sparkling colors of a disco ball. The music was a loud thrum of hip-shaking beat. It only made sense to join in. Back and forth I swayed, moving my arms along. I let the rhythm take over and move my body however it would. As I moved, I could feel their eyes on me, trained on every bump and thump of my gyrating body.

  “You guys aren’t dancing,” I teased.

  Frowning, Jake tried his hand at some fist-pumping, while Mark started moving his legs in something resembling dancing. It didn’t matter; the music had taken completely over by now. It pulled me further onto the dance floor, to the middle. The alcohol and the beat had fused to make my body an actual canvas of the music; every hip-shake, foot-step and head-bop becoming another stroke on the page.

  By now, there were more people. A group of girls who were pretending not to ogle Mark and Jake, and a tall man who only had eyes for me. He was sexy, and looked Spanish. He brushed a strand of shoulder-length chestnut hair out of his face as he approached.

  “Beautiful,” was all he said as he stopped in front of me, with a smile.

  I returned his smile, and did a bopping sort of 360.

  “That all you got?” I challenged him.

  His dark bushy brows raised in competition. He did his own 360, a kind of two-step, hand undulating turn.

  Once he was facing me again, he took my hand.

  “Brooke?”

  It was Jake, looking none-too-pleased.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Do you want another drink? Mark’s buying again.”

  I nodded, but instead of going to Mark to tell him, he lingered right beside me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He and the Spanish guy were eyeing each other, like bulls sizing each other up.

  “So do you want a drink or not?” Mark said, now on my other side.

  “I told Jake yes,” I said, a little annoyed.

  “Good. You can come with us then,” he said, linking his arm through mine.

  Jake did the same on my other side. As we made our way to the bar, the necks of dance floor girls craned imperceptibly to follow our path.

  “Does it matter if I’d rather wait on the dance floor?” I asked.

  “No,” they chorused.

  I sighed.

  “Don’t make that face at me,” Mark said, once we’d stopped, “We were saving you.”

  “From what?” I challenged him, “Being fucked by someone other than you?”

  For a beat, both of their mouths dropped open, then I burst out laughing.

  “Oh God, you should’ve seen your faces!”

  As they stood there, still gaping at me, I nudged Mark.

  “Come on, I thought you said you could take it.”

  His jaw was working furiously, as if there was a reply he wanted to say, but wasn’t sure if he should.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told them before bee-lining my way to the bathroom.

  Inside was just as marble and impressive as the rest of the restaurant. The counters were marble, while the walls were entirely mirrors. After I went to the bathroom, and washed my hands, I gazed at my reflection. There was a bit of lipstick on my teeth I wiped off, but really, I hadn’t completed the most important part. Which one would I choose: Mark or Jake?

  Already this night was veering from fun to dangerous. If it ended how I secretly wanted it to, I could wind up in the bed of hot doc—and out of a job.

  And yet, when I was around the two sexy charmers, I couldn’t help it. It always felt like we were on the same plane of understanding, a level most people did not occupy. I felt as though I could be entirely myself, more than myself. Mostly, it just felt right.

  My reflection grinned back at me and I raised my brows. Yes, what I was doing now may have been dangerous, but it was also exciting. Just because I was attracted to both Jake and Mark didn’t mean that I had to act on it, nor did it mean I couldn’t have a bit of fun with it. There was no harm in teasing.

  One step out of the bathroom and my hand was seized.

  “We never finished our dance.”

  It was the Spanish guy who, judging from his accent, was definitely Spanish.

  “Sorry, she has to finish her drink,” Jake said, seizing my other hand.

  I stood there for a few seconds, looking from one determined, fiery-eyed man to the other.

  “Don’t I get to choose for myself?” I joked.

  A glance over to Jake’s face found it falling. Through the pleasant blur of drunkenness, guilt panged at me, and I caved.

  Gently, I extricated my hand from the grasp of the Spaniard.

  “Sorry,” I told him, “I’d love to, but tonight’s a special night for us.”

  When I gestured to Mark, who was waiting a few feet away, the man’s eyes bugged out. Only as he strode off did I realize the mistaken impre
ssion he must have gotten from my statement.

  As Jake escorted me over to Mark, I giggled.

  “His face—he thought that you, me and Mark were—all of us—together.”

  Jake and Mark laughed at that too, although there was something hard and forced about it.

  “Let’s make tonight as special as you claimed it was,” Mark said.

  Now it was my turn to gape at him, wondering if he meant what I thought he meant. But I didn’t have time to find out, because the next thing I knew, a drink was being lifted to my lips, and I was being pulled back onto the dance floor.

  This time Jake and Mark didn’t let me out of their grasp. One of their hands clasping one of mine, we grooved our bodies together. Close enough to be close but not touching. Until Mark had me do a turn under his arm. Once the turn was done, I paused, face to face with Mark. His gaze flicked to my lips. My hand was taken again, I was twirled under a different arm. It was Jake, and there was a frantic look on his face.

  But this was too fun, too funny. I was laughing and I was dancing, and they were too. We were moving between people the whole time; the dance floor was one crowded pulsing throb now. Red, blue and yellow circles of light, converged and separated, peppering Mark and Jake’s handsome faces. Women were watching and men were staring. They were so sexy, Mark and Jake; I had to choose and yet, there was simply no choosing.

  One minute we were dancing and the next I was being led outside into the cool air. The stars were out, strangely clear and twinkling, but we weren’t here for them. Jake was ordering a taxi, which we all clambered into.

  The cab arrived quickly, but the ride was long. I was wedged between the two of them, each of us pretending that the touching of our legs was casual. The beat from the dance floor seemed to have followed us into the taxi, with more of a head-bopping, limb-slapping sort of groove. So, I did it, I slapped my bare thighs, then Mark and Jake’s legs along to the beat. We all laughed, and thankfully, finally arrived.

  My apartment was all dark and closed-up for the night. No matter, I had my keys. Jake got out so I could exit the taxi, although that didn’t stop our arms from brushing as I passed.

  I walked slowly to my door. Truth be told, I didn’t want the night to end, and I don’t think they did either. They made the taxi linger there, and watched as I dropped my keys. Just as slowly, I leaned over to pick up the cat key chain, just to spice things up. Slow enough that they could see the slightest lacy hint of what was underneath my dress. No harm in some innocent teasing.