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The Fake Mate(100)

Author:Lana Ferguson

It’s been days since my run-in with Dennis, and I haven’t been able to make myself bring any of it up to Noah. It’s our first shared day off since the weekend I stayed over, and I’m not exactly dying to ruin it with talks about his least favorite person at the hospital or my growing insecurities about what we are and what his possible new job might mean for . . . whatever this is. It doesn’t sound like a fun conversation in my head, and I can’t imagine it being any better spoken out loud.

And besides, I’ve realized these last few days that the possibility of bringing it up only for Noah to brush it off would be far more painful than it has any right to be. Because what if he gets freaked out that I’m even worrying about it? This entire thing between us was built on a lie, and just because he asked me on one real date doesn’t mean he’s ready to propose or anything.

Not that I want him to.

Jesus. My brain is a mess.

“Did you see that?” Noah points at the screen, his brow knitted together. “He just touched his arm after scrubbing up for surgery. That’s a contamination hazard!”

“I’m sure they were really worried about medical accuracy when writing Derek Shepherd’s character,” I laugh.

“And that woman is wearing earrings in an OR,” he grumbles. “Seriously, who wrote this shit?”

“You know, I’m starting to wonder why I thought it would be a good idea to watch this with you.”

He catches my eye, a sheepish half smile curving on one side of his lip. “Sorry.”

“Nah. You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

He frowns. “I’m not cute.”

“I think so.” I scoot across the inches of couch that separate us, leaning into him to brush my lips across his cheek. “Adorable, really.”

He turns his face just enough to let my mouth catch at the corner of his. “Mhm.”

“We can watch something else.”

“It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I’ll try not to be too critical.”

“The day you stop being critical is the day I start worrying about your health,” I tease.

“My mother says something similar,” he huffs. “Often.”

“Oh? Your mom isn’t as . . . rigid as you are?”

I waggle my brows on the last word, and he rolls his eyes. “My mother doesn’t know the meaning of the word.” He eyes me speculatively. “She’s much more like you, if I’m being honest.”

“Like me?”

“You know . . .” He waves his hand in a circular motion, smiling. “Personable. Outgoing. Fun.”

“I think you’re lots of fun,” I tell him, trailing my fingers across the T-shirt stretched over his chest.

He snorts. “You’re probably the only one.”

“They just don’t get to see the sparkling personality you hide under all those frowns.”

“Right.” He chuffs out a quiet laugh. “My mother would adore you.”

For some reason his casual statement makes my pulse quicken. “You think?”

“Oh, definitely. She’s been badgering me to bring you to dinner for weeks.”

My heart is thundering now, and I can’t say why. “She has?”

He seems to realize what he’s said then, his eyes widening and his lips parting. “I . . . I mean . . . Don’t worry. I told her it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Oh.” My heart rate feels almost like it comes to a dead halt. Why am I so disappointed? “Right.”

“I just mean . . .” He looks flustered, like he doesn’t quite know what to say. “I only meant that I wouldn’t want to put you on the spot or ask you to do something you didn’t agree to when we started all of this.”

Something you didn’t agree to.

It’s like a gut punch, those five words, and I do my best not to let it show. Nothing he’s saying is untrue, or even unwarranted; logically, I know that just because we are wading into new territory, it doesn’t negate how we started out—but the lines that seem to be blurring are so muddled that I can’t figure out what’s what anymore. It leaves me feeling uncertain. Something I hate feeling.

I school my features, waving my hand in front of my face and doing my best to look unbothered. “It’s fine. You’re totally right. It would probably be weird.”

“Right . . .” His expression is hard to read, but for a second I can almost imagine a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but that doesn’t make sense. It’s gone as quickly as it comes. “Exactly. Especially since we’re in such . . . uncharted territory right now.”