Page 137 of Gold Rush

“How did you⁠—”

“You’ll get in,” I repeat.

She swallows hard. “I know I probably will. But until I get the letter …”

“You like guarantees.”

“Most people do.”

“I don’t. Sounds boring.”

“I know you don’t. I wasn’t concerned we were compatible.”

“Compatibility also sounds boring.”

I’ve missed all but the first firework. All I can see are the colors reflecting off Rory’s smooth hair.

I lean a little closer, and her eyes widen.

“Do you know what’s not boring, Florence? Taking risks. You should try it sometime.”

Her eyes drop to my mouth. I’m not sure she meant to look there. Actually, I’m quite sure she didn’t. Because there’s a sudden flare of panic when she registers she’s staring at my lips, and I’d bet the trust fund that I have to go to law school to receive that she’s thinking about kissing me.

She won’t.

I want her to.

The realization unsettles me. Because I’ve noticed Rory was gorgeous before—I’ve memorized her entire face, apparently—but I’ve never thought about her beauty in personal terms. I notice if her hair is down since she normally wears it up. I haven’t fantasized about shoving my hands in her hair while I kiss a mouth forming comments like, “That’d be useful knowledge, if you were ever reliable,” which is what Rory told me when I was helping her find Wren earlier. When I saw her dress, before she covered it with a blanket, I thought it was a nice color on her. I wasn’t picturing the silk fisted in my hands while I thrust into her.

I’m doing all those things now.

Rory stands suddenly, stumbling to her feet in the sand as though she isn’t wearing flat shoes. “It’s too cold,” she announces abruptly, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “If you stay and freeze, I don’t want any culpability.”

I don’t smile at her reference to our earlier legal discussion. I shrug. “Be boring, Florence.”

“Grow the hell up, Flynn.”

She stomps past me toward the path.

“You forgot your Sprite!” I call after her, then lie back flat on the sand so I can see the sky better.

And impulsively wish for a chance to kiss Rory Kensington.

41

“Can I help you with anything?”

I whirl left, smiling awkwardly at Cammie. “Oh, no. I’m all set. Thanks.”

Standing outside the hotel for twenty minutes was bound to draw attention from the staff at some point. I’ve been debating if I take the car or order a ride for far too long. Flynn drove us from Manhattan, and while I doubt he’ll care if I use his vehicle, doing so feels strange. I’m so tired of constant uncertainty, of the boundary lines of real and fake being so blurry, and I’m about to make it that much worse.

But that’s what I do. I follow through. I commit. That’s why Flynn asked me to do this, rather than one of the many other women who would have happily volunteered to be his fake girlfriend. Including the one standing in front of me.

After returning to the hotel last night, I noticed all the exchanged glances when we ran into a woman whom Flynn had obviously slept with. Logic is no help in this circumstance. Because I know that Flynn could—and did—do whatever he wanted before we agreed to this arrangement. Even now, him “cheating” would technically be a smaller betrayal than what Carson did. But it wouldn’t feel smaller. It would feel catastrophic. I know because seeing Cammie smile at Flynn with obvious familiarity stung more than watching that video. I pretended to be asleep when he came to bed after using the bathroom, barely slept, and snuck out of our room while he was still unconscious.

“Are you sure?” Cammie is studying me more closely than I’m comfortable with, considering I’m on the verge of tears.

I hardly know her. We’ve only met once. Yet she’s someone Flynn chose—same as Molly, his ex from Boston. They’re women he was with voluntarily, with no ultimatum from his father. Last night, he said he was attracted to me before we began this charade. But he never once made a move. He’s known me since we were in elementary school. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity. Lili was right when she said we would have met even if he hadn’t become Kit’s best friend. But the romantic way she framed it has an opposite vantage. We were constantly around each other. He never flirted. Never asked me out. Never kissed me. And I know Flynn has no issue doing any of those things. He’s not shy or insecure or inexperienced.