White walls, white granite, beige oversized chairs, green juice out of a machine in the corner. How come all of these places look like the homes of millionaires, instead of doctor’s offices?

A woman walks past me, her lips like a duck and tiny spots of blood dotting her forehead. I can only imagine the needles and procedures she must have had to go through to get those spots on her flesh. It makes me shudder … and wonder why some of these women can’t accept that at some point they’re going to have to age, and this wasn’t particularly the way to do it gracefully.

“I’m here to see Kara O’Connor.” I rap my knuckles on the counter.

The girl at the counter holds up her finger, the headset in her ear occupying her. I wait patiently, the elevator music and jasmine scent setting a relaxing mood for an office that zapped people’s hair and tightened their pussies.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She looks up and begins to smile, and then it falters just a bit before she slaps it back on. “Kara, you said?”

It’s the first time I’ve come to see her at work since she started four days ago, and I knew the minute I stepped foot in here it would draw unwanted attention. But people have to see us together for the word to make it around that we’re in each other’s lives, and what better way to do that than arrive at my girlfriend’s work with plans to take her out to dinner.

The receptionist pages to the back, and out comes Kara minutes later, an annoyed look being masked by a tight smile.

“What’re you doing here?” To the receptionist, she sounds cheery … but I know this girl and she’s pissed that I showed up at her place of work.

I lean in, placing my hands on her hips and feeling her curves through the lab coat that is doing a lot of things to me south of my belt. “Hi to you, too, beautiful.”

Placing my lips over hers in the briefest of kisses, I think I hear the receptionist sigh.

“I came to take you out to dinner. Are you almost done? Oh! Maybe I can watch you pop some blackheads … I’ve always liked those videos on the Internet.”

Kara tilts her head to the side, one almond eye twinkling at my confession. “Seriously? Where did you find those?”

“I may have done some research when you first moved out here.” I drop my hands from her waist as another patient walks by, an older woman whose eyes linger too long trying to place me.

“You might be more popular in here than our micro-needle rejuvenation. The technology in this place …” She trails off, shaking her head gently as her dark ponytail swings with the movement.

The tone of her voice contains awe, and I realize just how passionate she is about this. When we were young, I had always been the one who knew exactly what they wanted to do. Whereas Kara, she didn’t really have a clear plan. It was nice to be able to see her in her element, and to be able to provide her with a grander stage to practice on.

“So, can I watch?” Suddenly I want to see her do something, no matter how gross it is.

“Maybe another day, I just finished up my last round of clinical notes and am about to hang up the coat for the day.” She shrugs out of the white doctor’s coat and reveals a form-fitting business casual dress that makes my mouth water. With the heels plumping up her ass, she looks like the best kind of happy hour treat, and I want to drink it all.

“Then let’s go to dinner.” I lace my fingers through hers, and her hand remains stiff.

People are watching us, especially her coworkers, and I raise an eyebrow. Kara turns on the charm, melting into me and nodding. She allows me to lead her out, but the minute we get in the car, she wrenches her hand away.

"You didn't have to come in, you know, you could have told me to come outside." She buckles in and crosses her legs, tossing her hair over her shoulder in an annoyed flick.

"We're supposed to be together, it's romantic for me to pick you up from work. You do remember how a relationship works, right?"

Kara makes a ticked off noise. "Now all anyone will see when they look at me is you."

"And is that so bad?" I preen.

She turns to me, her face turning a shade of red. "You may not realize it, but my entire high school existence was that way. Girlfriend on the arm of the football star, the hot guy, the musician. People referred to me as Dean's girlfriend before they called me by my actual name. Excuse me if I've outgrown those chains."

A pang of guilt mixed with surprise hits my stomach, because I never knew she felt that way. Back then, I thought we'd had no secrets. Apparently in the years since we'd broken up, there was more animosity that had been built than I'd realized.

"I didn't know that."

"There are a lot of things you didn't bother to follow up on after you left Elm Hill." I hear the pain in her tone.

We drive in silence the rest of the way to the restaurant, until we're at the curb and paps are snapping before we even get out of the car.

"We're eating at Nobu?" Kara can't hide the excited expression on her face.

"If you'll sit across from me that is." I roll my eyes that it only took one of LA's trendiest restaurants for her to speak again.

"I've seen this on like every reality TV show I've ever watched."

Who knew the caustic, witty girl had a guilty pleasure like trashy television shows?

I scoop around to her side and open the door after getting out, playing the ultimate gentleman. Immediately, I thread my hand through hers, whispering in her ear to cooperate because our pictures are going to be splashed everywhere.

I’ve been to Nobu dozens of times, probably close to a hundred over the years I’ve been a Hollywood A-lister, but it feels different with Kara by my side. Too cheesy, trying too hard. She doesn’t seem to see the varnish of fakeness coated over every surface, but it grated on my own nerves.

The hostess, some model or actress wannabe who keeps sneaking too many glances at us, escorts us to our table and leaves us the menu.

“Since I have to be on this fake ass date in the first place, I guess maxing out your credit card will make me feel better.” She puts on a sugar sweet smile.

My blood sparks in my veins at her dismissal of me. I didn’t expect us to fall in love—hell, maybe I thought it could happen—but so far, Kara has been nothing but ice cold to me. After everything she got out of the contract, she’s still acting like a frigid bitch rather than making the best of our situation.

“Well, you did seem to like my lips on yours the couple of times I’ve granted you a kiss.” I can’t help but cut her back.

Violet eyes across the table flicker with fury, but the waitress interrupts the tongue lashing Kara is about to unleash. We order, me my regular entree and a whiskey neat, and Kara lists off at least eight items on the menu and a three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine before pristinely folding her hands in her lap.

“The only reason I allow you to touch me is because there is a contract binding me to it, that you also paid me out from. Basically, I’m a high-class escort, which would usually be degrading. However, I’d rather relate myself to that profession than let you touch me out of free will. Because let’s get one thing straight … you will never touch me in a normal context again. I will never allow you to kiss me, fuck me, or otherwise out of sheer want … because that is the last thing I would ever desire. When you cheated on me, when you brought a girl back to your hotel room behind my back, it ended any fascination I had of ever being with you again.”

Her tongue is a razor, cutting the ventricles of my heart sharp and quick. They knock the wind out of me, her words, and leave me breathless across the table.

Kara has made it clear that while she may be helping my public image, it is all an act. There is absolutely no chance for vindication on my part, a fact that I should have faced sooner but was holding out hope wasn’t true.

Fine. She wanted nothing to do with me behind closed doors? Two could abide by those rules.