Page 137 of Fall Fake-Out

Not because anything goes wrong, but because I know what it feels like to kiss Ari Langford, and now I want more. After years of casual dating, and easy exits, and never letting anything get too serious, one kiss somehow rearranged my entire world.

How am I supposed to spend another hour pretending to care about homecoming royalty and punch bowls? And then another two hours cleaning up?

Yeah, right. My brain is occupied.

Every time I glance across the room, Ari is there. That wine-colored dress. That impossible smile. The memory of her pressed against the wall beneath the bleachers.

At one point, she catches me staring. Again.

Instead of looking away, she smiles like she can’t stop thinking about our stolen kiss either.

By the time the gym is finally clean and the school is locked up, Ari and I are the last ones left in the parking lot. She hugs her arms around herself against the cool night air.

“That was fun.” She reaches for her keys, but I grab her wrist, stopping her.

“Let’s go for a drive.”

“Okay.” Her smile says she doesn’t believe this is just a drive. Neither do I.

A few minutes later, we’re winding through town when I say, “I guess this means I’m your plus-one for the wedding.”

She laughs. “I think the fake-dating scheme always had you as my plus-one.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Would’ve been awkward showing up if you were with another guy.”

“Don’t expect much from me, Stevenson. As maid of honor, I’ll be busy all next week. Probably a lousy date too.”

My heart immediately dislikes that information. “Does this mean, outside of school, I won’t see you until the rehearsal dinner?”

“Probably.”

Probably. A terrible word.

Without thinking, I make a turn.

Ari immediately starts laughing. “Makeout Ridge? Seriously?”

“What?”

“You know exactly what.”

I grin. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Wade.”

The road climbs higher. Trees thin out. The overlook comes into view.

“It’s nostalgic. Doesn’t tonight make you feel like you’re sixteen again?”

“Yes, but we’re not sixteen.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re taking me here.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the principal. I’m a teacher. It’s bad optics.”