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“That’s worse,” I hiss through a pretend smile. “How are you so bad at this? It was your idea!”
“Was it?”
Josh is still standing across the street, maxing out the amount of time you can casually watch a couple having a private moment before it turns into stalking. I need to sell this. If he figures out Grant isn’t interested in me, everyone I knew in Seattle will hear about my pathetic show.
It shouldn’t matter. I don’t care what they think. Except…after the crummy year I’ve had, itdoesmatter. I need to salvage something.
“Just…act natural. Pretend you like me.”
A crease forms between Grant’s eyebrows. “I like you.”
“Romantically.” I give him another smile as though Josh is counting them, and when he reaches a set amount, he’ll be on his way. “Pretend I’m your dream girl.”
Something flickers in Grant’s eyes. Whatever it is, it flips the switch. He moves closer until he’s in my space. I back up a step, hitting the department store’s window. He places one hand on the glass and leans in.
He smells good. Something minty and herbal lingers on him, and I’m tempted to take a deep sniff just so I can memorize the exact make up of his soap.
“You are my dream girl. I like everything about you.” He dips his head nearer until we’re breathing the same air. “Your laugh. Your ambition. Your dedication. Your heart.”
Heat spreads through my body from my toes to my scalp. My blood is molten, my organs singed to a crisp, and he hasn’t even touched me. A tiny part of my brain recognizes the danger in giving myself over to this moment, but I don’t move. I’m not sure I can.
I am Icarus, flying higher and higher.
Grant shifts his hand to my neck, splaying his fingers lightly across my skin from my collar bone to my jaw. His thumb skates up my chin to press ever so softly to my lower lip. “I can’t stop thinking about your mouth. I want to…”
He draws even closer, his eyes on the fiery spot where he’s touching my lip. His breath ghosts over my mouth. My eyes drift shut, and I tilt my chin, ready for him to put me out of my misery and kiss me already.
Seconds pass. I…might not be breathing.
“Was that enough charm for you?” he says softly.
My eyes fly open. He still hovers millimeters from my face. His eyes have lost their sultry fire, replaced now with something I can’t read. He moves his thumb from my mouth, letting it slide along my cheek. I’m sure to any outside observer—say, somebody standing across the street being nosy—it looked like we kissed.
Turns out, he’s so good at this, it almostfeltlike we kissed, too.
I am Icarus, crashing to the ground.
I straighten in his grasp, and he lowers his hand. It takes me a few seconds to compose myself. Outwardly, anyway. Inside, I’m a needy, disappointed mess. I run my suddenly clammy hands along my shorts and lick my lips. His eyes follow the movement, but instead of shifting closer again, he puts a little more distance between us. It’s barely anything, but I feel it like a hundred paper cuts.
You wanted a fake boyfriend? Congrats, you got one.
My smile is a sham, but that fits. “That was the exact right amount of charm.”
He smiles, too, but it reminds me of the mid-happy smile he demonstrated yesterday. It isn’t nearly enough. It might not even be real.
“Is he still around?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t want to look. The idea that one of the sexiest moments of my life was all for the sake of my ex sets something slimy loose in my stomach.
Grant’s just-barely-there smile falls. “Was that too much? We never talked about our limits.”
“No.” I croak it more than say it. I swallow because I’m super chill like that, and try again. “No. That was fine.”
Fine. Sure. That neck caress and lip touch will be forever ingrained in my memory. But it’s fine.
He tilts his head, no doubt running silent scans on my mental state. He’s been pretty dang perceptive so far—I really don’t need him digging around under my skin right now. All the evidence in there is labeledIncriminating.
“You make an excellent fake boyfriend.” My voice isn’t usually this squeaky, is it? “A very believable forgery.”
