I roll my eyes. “You know what that means. Even my grandma knows what that means.”
He shrugs lightly. So innocent. “Is it a game? Or…I don’t know…a dance move? You’ll have to fill me in here. And please be as specific as possible.”
I slap his hard bicep. “Stop! You know what it means.” My cheeks are turning pink for some reason.
He raises an eyebrow. “Well, I have an idea, but you know, it leaves a lot open for interpretation. Hanky-panky is very vague. I might think it means old-fashioned sex, but then if that’s true…it means second base is totally up for grabs. Maybe even—”
“NATHAN!” My stomach barrel-rolls right out of this SUV because I do not want to hear what’s about to come out of his mouth next. We do not talk like this. Ever. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like we’re on his couch anymore, and I need to bring us back down to level ground. “No…sexual…anything!” I struggle saying each of those words. “And don’t be such a jokester about all of this. I’m serious.”
Don’t get me wrong—I’d love nothing more than hanky-panky with Nathan, but I know it wouldn’t mean the same things to us. I would never be able to separate my feelings from the act.
He hears the sharpness in my tone, and his amusement dies a little. “I know. I’m just playing. No hanky-panky…I got it. But the rest of this…” He scans the paper one more time before shaking his head and RIPPING IT UP! My rules are nothing but confetti falling to the floor now.
My mouth falls open. “Why did you do that?!”
“Because it’s ridiculous. We’re going to touch. We’re going to kiss, Bree.”
My heart stops. He said those words so matter-of-factly. Without hesitation or question. Just like, These lips will be touching those lips, no big deal. It would be a big deal for me.
“No. No kissing.”
“Couples kiss. If we’re going to sell this relationship, we’re going to need to kiss in public at some point.”
I sigh, a part of me knowing he’s right. “Okay, only if the absolute need arises, we can share a closed-mouth kiss. Just a quick peck for the cameras.” I’m not sure what would happen to our contract if the fake part of our relationship is discovered, and I don’t want to find out. I need that money.
He doesn’t agree, just picks up the shreds of my peace of mind and tosses them into a cup holder. He pulls out his phone. “Actually, all of this reminds me—we need to take a picture together and post it. An official ‘we’re a couple’ photo for social media to ooh and aah over.”
Oh right. That was in the contract—abundant social media lovey-dovey-ness. He turns the camera around to selfie mode and aims it in front of our faces. I lean toward him so our heads are almost together and cheese it up.
“Why aren’t you taking the photo?” I say through my smiling teeth.
“Because this pose makes us look like best friends.”
Duh. That’s what we are.
I drop my smile and turn my face to his. “Okayyyy. Well, what should we do then?”
He bites the side of his lip as he contemplates something and then unbuckles my seatbelt.
“Hey! Unsafe!”
Nathan loops his arm around my middle and, before I can protest, hauls me up onto his lap. HIS LAP! I guess that throws my no touching when not in public rule out the window. I can feel his solid chest against my back and his strong thighs under mine. He leans in and his breath warms my neck. My body doesn’t know how to react to this, so it just bursts into flames. “Wh-what’s happening right now?”
“Just relax. Pretend you like me.” Oh the irony.