Brian Weeks said: "If embarrassment was a muscle, I'd be huge."

I died a little, sure that Fallon's family had come home early and King or DeeDee had just walked in. It was a lot worse. Turning my head, I saw Shane and a livid Kellen Riaz at the door.

I don't think there's anything to describe the feeling of someone walking in on your first sexual experience. The fact it was my ex-boyfriend made it so much fucking worse.

"No fucking way!" Kellen ruefully chuckled as he exited the room.

"Shit!" Fallon hissed, pulling out of me as Shane stood there like a deer in the headlights. "Get out!" Fallon ordered as I struggled to breathe.

My mouth hung open in a silent scream, ducking under my pillow, knowing I died and went to hell.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know!" Shane panicked.

What he meant was, he didn't know it was me. The walls in that SoHo apartment were pretty thin. A few feet from the door and I'm sure they heard my frantic sounds but the boys had just assumed it was Fallon and one of his many hook-ups.

They didn't care for the privacy of the mystery girl; they had come for me. Not wanting to waste time waiting to ask for my location.

"Shane, get the fuck out!" Fallon ordered.

"Oh, my god!" I complained.

"You can go back to smashing whatever hoe you're with after you tell me where my—" Wrenner growled, and at that point I was just waiting for Colleen to storm in and drag me by the hair.

"Oh...shit," Wren complained in disgust, recognizing my red curls peeking out from under the sheet. "Fuck, Rue!" my brother admonished, before ordering everyone from the room.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Wren threatened Fallon, ordering me to get dressed so we could go home.

"Yeah, yeah, get the fuck out," Fallon dismissed, tossing a pillow at the slamming door.

I felt embarrassed and sore. Wanting to die as we tossed on our clothes. I thought it was a sign the universe telling us that anytime we got too close Fallon and I would be ripped apart I didn't know how right I was. My world falling apart when I heard one of the boys in the hall call him "Lala" 

Lala was the fifth member of their band of panty thieves; the leader of the pack that Kellen called his best friend.

I pulled away, looking at Fallon as if seeing him for the first time. Lala was a monster. A heat seeker who tricked girls into thinking they had an emotional connection and blowing up their lives once he got what he wanted.

"Babe, Jamal's a dick," Fallon replied to my horrified expression as he reached out to fix my hair.

"Why did he call you that?" I asked, pushing his hand away.

"What, Lala?" he asked with a skeptical smile. "It's something people on my dad's side call me. Shai's a dick, he figured if I'm going to have a girl name I should have a nickname that suits. It stuck." Fallon rolled his eyes, shrugging it off.

I whimpered, trying to tune my brother out as I gathered my thoughts and threw on the rest of my clothes.

"You're related?" I asked, disgusted by the idea I had slept with my ex's relative. I see the irony in that now, but it was a deep concern at sixteen.

"God no." Fallon laughed, kissing the side of my head before rising from the bed.

Fallon was having fun. I was dying a thousand internal deaths, but I could see on his face while he dressed, Fallon was amused.

He tilted his head, questioning if I was okay but I didn't know. Something felt wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it. I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip, unable to look Fallon in the eyes while trying to push away the sinking feeling.

"I love you, Kid," Fallon declared, lifting my chin.

"I love you," I said, and it was the only thing I was sure of at that moment.

I was startled by a heavy bang that shook the door. Kellen was pissed. Despite having a girlfriend and not speaking for over six months, in his mind, I belonged to him. I was a meal Kellen was saving and Fallon Lynch had just taken a big bite.

"Hurry the fuck up, Rue!" He barked, scaring me to my feet.

Fallon's smile faded. He held out his arm to keep me in place as he licked his teeth, eyes narrowed at the door. "Stay here," Fallon distantly requested, sitting me down on the bed before heading for the door, asking Kellen who the fuck did he think he was yelling at.

Present

"Why am I wearing a suit?" Fallon asks as we make our way down the hall.

I would barely call this a suit. Dinner jacket, a crisp dress shirt, tailored pants, and dress shoes. He isn't even wearing a tie and, although I'm into it, Fallon is a button short of casual.

"Maybe I felt like dressing up?" I twirl in my off-the-shoulder mid-length desert sand-colored dress.

It's not something I would have picked for myself but once again Fallon hits the mark. I love this dress; it breathes yet hugs my curves in all the right places.

This is nice. We never dressed like this as kids and if we will play a young wealthy couple, we should look the part.

The party is in full swing when Barbra welcomes us into her home. There are sixteen guests, not including Barbra and her husband Joe. She gives a quick tour, introducing us to party-goers by apartment and explains once a month they hold a dinner party for the residents of their luxury apartment building. Fallon, the only one to not accept his invitation.

"I'm often working." He smiles.

It's a half truth. Fallon doesn't comprehend being a friendly neighbor. He is fine with a passing hello, but often said anything further is shitting where you eat.

We're the youngest here, aside from the teenage blow-up doll in the red dress speaking to who I assumed was her father until he pinches her ass when she turns to grab him a drink.

God, I hope that's not her dad.

"Mingle. Dinner will be in half an hour," Barbra encourages us before heading down a long hall.

Fallon's smile is uncomfortably tense, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "I thought you said it was dinner with the neighbors."

"I did. These are your neighbors." I giggle as the girl in the red dress stumbles over her feet, gawking at Fallon as she makes her way back to her strapping old man. "You have a fan," I tease.

"I don't care," Fallon says dismissively, swinging around to block my view. "You hate people. Especially these kinds of people. Wouldn't you rather go somewhere to eat alone? We can head back to my place for dessert after," he tries to persuade me, caressing my waist.

I like Fallon. I enjoy hanging out with him, but if I'm being honest, I'm still sour about what happened yesterday night and, in the spirit of honesty, I'm halfway bored.

Fallon's body is incredible, his face is beautiful, and there are these moments where I feel like he can read my mind and I appreciate that, but sexually, we're not the most compatible.

I enjoyed the intimacy of someone familiar but I like it rough, and if Jade's song is somewhere in reality, so does Fallon, just not with me. Making love is a beautiful concept but the man I love is hours away doing god knows what and my vulnerability is making me look at Fallon in ways I shouldn't.

"You should get to know your neighbors." I pull away. "And for your information, I don't mind dinner parties. Every year—" I beam, my words drifting as I realize maybe it's not the best moment to talk about Gage.

My husband and I attend the Marine Ball every year since we had been dating. I love it. We bought advanced tickets to the 252nd annual months ago but, now that we're separated, I wonder if he will have someone else on his arm.

"Everything okay, Kid?" Fallon asks, his green eyes seeing right through me.

I could lie, but the way he looks at me tells me that Fallon would know.

"I like dinner parties." I force a smile.

"Then why do you look like someone stole your puppy?" Fallon asks, surfacing another memory I don't feel like sharing with my date.

"It's fine. This will be nice." I beam.

Barbra's dining room is beautiful. Double the size of Fallon's with a long garnished table for twenty with room for her wait staff to move around. She and her husband, Joe, don't sit at the head of the table instead, dead center across from Fallon and myself, which for this type of event is odd for me personally.

"This place is huge," I whisper as Fallon pulls out my seat.

"The apartments are pretty uniform. The dining room shares a wall with the guest room; she likely just knocked it down," he explains as I take my seat.

"You should do that," I joke.

"I don't throw dinner parties and if I did, only my close friends would be welcome in my apartment and I don't have this many close friends," Fallon tells me.

"Was Jade a close friend?" I knit my brows.

I know it's in bad taste. From what Fallon told me, and the article Anastasia sent, Jade Knight has a long road to recovery but I can't help myself. I'm selfish and I hate knowing that there are women who know him in ways I don't.

Fallon leans down and kisses my cheek. "Yes, and I would avoid asking questions you don't really want the answers to, Kid," he warns, completely souring my mood.

Dinner conversation is typical for a crowd like this. Work, finance, world events. They're deeply interested in Fallon; apparently only seeing him in passing in the two years that he has lived here.

Fallon is oddly guarded tonight. They can't notice it, but I do. Fallon is smiling and engaging, he is polite and charming, but whenever the conversation is geared to him, Fallon keeps it as short as possible.

"I'm from Soho," he replies, although he had been born and raised in Queens until he was twelve.

"I'm the Chief Acquisition Officer at a private firm," he informs them, a flash of annoyance in his eyes when they question what that entails.

Fallon sounds like a robot as he speaks. Bored, as though he had rehearsed the words a million times before. "I advise and assist the head of a private conglomerate. We own numerous firms, labels, and clubs. You might say, my boss is a dabbler with a short attention span." He chuckles at his private inside joke. "With that said, I negotiate, seek out, finalize, and organize purchasing deals for my employer. Most times, I handle mergers and events. It's honestly tedious." He sips his wine.

By dessert, I can tell Fallon is more than ready to go. I don't see what his problem is, I think these people are pleasant, but he only seems comfortable when answering questions about us.

I can't help but feel amused as Fallon embellishes our alternate history. He's so adamant on telling me the truth I had forgotten what a convincing liar he can be, blending fact and fiction into something that seems tangible.

Fallon attended NYU and, despite wanting to attend the same university, I chose Cornell because of their amazing writing program. Fallon had originally planned on majoring in management communications but transferred to an accelerated program in marketing once we started dating.

"She originally wanted to attend UCLA to be a writer. I was two years ahead of her and needed to make sure I had a career that would allow me to take care of her by the time she graduated," Fallon explains, gazing at me with admiration.

Our history diverts from there. He says I chose Cornell to stay close to home, which isn't true. He smiles confidently as he informs them we would visit each other during breaks and holidays, Fallon eventually proposing the night of my eighteenth birthday.

"Because I'm selfish and I wanted to give myself the best present in the world." He brushes my straightened hair behind my ear.

"Aw!" The girl in the red dress gushes as Fallon takes my hand, before asking how did we meet.

Fallon looks at me and bites his lower lip to contain his smile. The way we met is the same. Fallon can detail everything about that day down to my mismatched star and moon shape earrings.

"I didn't even remember that." I smile as the memory comes to mind.

"Rue has always been indecisive," Fallon rudely declares.

"Am not!" I object.

"Are too," he disagrees, looking around the table. "She used to take Benadryl before a test because multiple choice questions gave her hives. When we were younger, Rue wore mismatched earrings, so she didn't have to choose," Fallon explains, enamoring our audience with our little love story throughout the night.

"I don't care what she says; it was love at first sight," Fallon insists as we debate our first encounter.

"No, it wasn't. I didn't even like you as a person, you just grew on me like a fungus." I giggle.

Fallon wrinkles his nose, looking unsure how to feel about being compared to a fungus before leaning in to kiss me.

"You, my love, only remember things the way you want to." He squints, turning his attention back to the table. "She even said I love you first," Fallon declares.

"I did not!" I can't help but laugh.

"See what I mean?" Fallon smiles at our company before looking back to me. "We were hanging out in my room and I made you laugh so hard your face turned pink. You said: God, I love you, and kissed my cheek."

"Sounds like you said it first to me," says the giddy girl in the red dress.

"No, we weren't dating then." I try to conceal my smile.

"Doesn't matter. That was the moment I thought, 'wow, I would give my right arm just to hear her say that for the rest of my life,'" Fallon says, and the way he stares into my eyes causes a riot in my chest.

"That's so sweet," Barbra comments.

"Yeah... it is," I agree, looking at him curiously.