I rub her hip, resisting the urge to tuck my hand underneath her tank top. “And if I win?”
She pretends to think, tapping her finger against her chin. “I’ll give you a kiss.”
That piques my interest. We’ve been affectionate with each other when we’re in public, but we haven’t truly kissed since outside Red’s, and I’ve been thinking about doing it again an unfair amount. The relationship might be fake, but the kisses sure as hell haven’t been. I know how much I affect her.
“Deal, princess.”
Fifteen minutes later, she’s clutching a stuffed bear to her chest, and I’m still sulking.
She giggles as she takes in my expression. “Aw, babe. You look like you need cheering up.”
“A kiss would help.”
She reaches up and kisses me on the cheek. “Better?”
I hold her in place before she can slide away, crushing the poor stuffed animal between us. She named it as soon as I put it in her arms—Albert. Why, I have no idea, but it was almost worth losing to see her smile.
Almost.
I give her a proper kiss, running my tongue over the seam of her lips. She gasps, opening her mouth, letting our tongues meet. By the time I pull away, my heart is pounding, and if her blush is any indication, she’s feeling the same way.
I wink. “Now I’m better.”
14
BEX
I adjust my ponytail as I wait for James to answer his front door. Before him, I never worked as a tutor, but I’m pretty sure the job usually doesn’t involve dinner reservations after. But here I am, laptop and writing handbook nestled into my tote bag alongside a dress and change of shoes.
My life is so weird now.
It turns out that even when you’re fake dating, it leads to a lot of texting and hanging out. In the past couple of weeks, James has sent me Snaps of himself at practice, FaceTimed me while his brothers battled it out on Super Smash Bros, and texted me an unfair amount of cute animal videos. He calls the latter “happiness hits,” which is more adorable than it has any right to be. Last week we went to an arcade together, where I totally owned his ass in Pac-Man, and he’s developed a habit of showing up to The Purple Kettle when I’m working to say hi and buy a coffee.
And honestly? As much as it scares me, I kind of love it.
The first time he texted me out of the blue, I assumed it was to ask a question about our latest writing assignment for class. And that was part of it—but not before he asked me how I was doing. I’d been at the diner, so I told him all about the latest drama about a supplier falling through, and he shared about how practice went for him.
It was almost enough to feel real, which is why I shut it down. Now, we just chat for a bit before he asks me something class related.
The door opens, but it’s not James who greets me. Cooper gives me a grin. “Hey, Bex. James is upstairs.”
I eye him. “Why are you shirtless?”
He shuts the door behind me as I step inside. “Why not?”
I haven’t known James’ brothers for very long, but ten minutes in Cooper’s presence was enough to tell me he’s cocky as hell and knows he has the looks to back it up. He has a similar build to his brother, cut to perfection like each of his abs is made of diamonds. Tonight, he’s wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of sweatpants, and his hair is damp, like he just came out of the shower. Objectively speaking, he’s gorgeous. But his hair doesn’t fall over his forehead the way James’ does. His eyes aren’t quite as blue. His beard is attractive, but I prefer James’ clean-shaven, razor-sharp jawline better. Is the happy trail leading down similar, or— I force my gaze down to the floor once I realize I’m staring. I’m here to help James, not ogle his brother and fantasize about his pecs.
“Now that you’re done checking me out,” Cooper says cheerfully, “I want to thank you. James told us his last assignment didn’t suck quite as bad. What was it, a C-?”
“I got a C+, dickhead.” James bounds down the stairs to our left. When he reaches my side, he pulls me into a sideways hug and kisses me on the temple. His brothers know we’re not actually together, so there’s no need to pretend, but if there’s a word James Callahan doesn’t have in his vocabulary, it’s “halfway.” He gives my waist a squeeze. “Coop, we’ll be in the kitchen. Are you going out?”
Cooper groans. “I wish, but I have to finish reading Crime and Punishment.”
James leans in to whisper in my ear, “Is that really the name?”
“Yes,” I whisper back, feeling goosebumps where his breath brushes against my skin. “Wait, please tell me you knew that.”
His laughter is adorable. “You’re fun to tease, you know.”
We settle at the big dining room-style table in the kitchen. This is the safest place for us to study—if we’re in his room, I’m afraid I’ll do something stupid, like ask for a kiss when no one is around. Even if we’re alone here, it’s a common area. I take out my things and settle into a chair, waiting for James to do the same.
He pokes around in the fridge first. “Want something to drink?”
“I have my water bottle.” I hold up the battered reusable bottle. It’s covered in stickers, a guilty pleasure of mine. I don’t have a ton of money to spend on impulse purchases, but when they happen, I’m either buying stickers or cute pairs of earrings.
Tonight, though, I’m wearing the one good piece of jewelry I own: a pair of small gold earrings that belonged to my mother’s mother. And the dress in my bag is borrowed from Laura. James told me we’re going somewhere fancy, which I told him wasn’t necessary for a fake date, but he insisted.
He gets himself a glass of iced tea and settles down across from me. “I finished my draft.”
“Yeah? Can I see?”
“I tried writing it by hand like you suggested, and it worked, I think. I finished it faster than when I was trying to type and kept deleting things.”
He flips through his notebook and passes it across the table to me. His fingers brush mine accidentally, and it makes me bite the inside of my cheek. Focus. I need to focus on helping him, on upholding my end of our deal. Aside from a few annoying texts, Darryl’s been leaving me alone, just like I knew he would if he thought I was off the market. That’s allowed me to focus on school and work.
We’re working on implementing research in our writing. As a business major, I do this all the time, but it’s a skill that takes time to develop, and I don’t blame James for still needing practice. I scan over his work with my pen in hand as he waits.
“You have such messy handwriting.”
He shrugs. “Eventually I’ll only need to be able to write one thing.”
“Which is?”
“My autograph.”
I break into a smile as I shake my head. “Ego much?”
“Not ego. Manifestation.” He takes a sip of his drink, wagging his eyebrows at me when I kick at him under the table.
“Wouldn’t have taken you for that type.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says. “Yet, of course. You’re my fake girlfriend, you’ll have to know everything eventually.”