Gray narrows his eyes at us before blowing out a breath and taking my best friend's hand, letting her pull him toward the water. But before they reach it, he throws her over his shoulder, making her squeal and cry out in protest. Which my brother ignores, mercilessly tossing her into the lake.
I whip my head back to Duane who's watching the whole thing with a huge grin on his face. "Don't get any ideas."
His eyes twinkle mischievously. "Are you sure? That looked like a lot of fun."
"Yeah. For you," I shoot back. Then my eyes find the rope swing at the end of the dock. "I think I have a better idea."
"Think you can beat me to it, Beanie?" Duane chuckles, already knowing what I'm thinking.
"Oh, I know I will," I say with utmost confidence.
"Fine," he sighs, admitting defeat. "I need a kiss for consolation then." He presses his lips against mine before I can react, deepening it for a long moment before abruptly pulling away. Then the next thing I know, he's already running toward the rope swing.
Brain still fogged by that kiss, I blink a few times before realizing what he just did. "You cheater!" I yell, running after him.
Duane is almost at arm's length when he suddenly spins around and grabs me. Then he tosses me over his shoulder just like Gray did with Indie and runs toward the dock, jumping into the water with me screaming bloody murder.
"I hate you," I sputter when we break to the surface.
"No, you don't," Duane laughs as he moves closer and snakes an arm around my waist.
He's right. I really don't.
Biting back a grin, I let out a sigh as my arms wrap around his neck. "I guess it's my turn to get a consolation kiss now."
"I guess it's only fair." He smirks then slants his lips over mine, kissing me for a long time until we can hear my brother yelling at Duane to stop "mauling" me.
This time though, we choose to ignore Gray.
THE END
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Turn the page for a sneak peek of Faking It, Book 1 in the Fake Boyfriend Duet.
SNEAK PEEK: FAKING IT
"I can't believe he did that." Allison Turner, my best friend since kindergarten, is gaping at me like a fish. Like she's waiting for me to yell "April Fools!"
But it's not April.
And I wasn't joking when I told her that Brad McNeely, my boyfriend of four months, just dumped me. Dumped me like a freaking hot potato.
I should have seen it coming—but how was I supposed to know? The jerk didn't even give me any hint that he wanted out.
So when he drove me home from school a couple hours ago and told me it was over, I laughed a good minute, thinking he was just screwing around. But when he didn't share my humor and simply stared at me somberly, I realized he was completely serious. And that was when the shock settled in.
"I'm not feeling it anymore," he said softly, his eyes pleading me to understand.
What a load of crap. He was definitely "feeling it" when we made out in the backseat of his car two days ago. What, did he suddenly have a change of heart in that small span of time?
I wish I could say I handled our breakup with dignity. That I acted cool and unaffected and uncaring of the fact that he didn't want me anymore. But my reaction was the exact opposite. I spent a good ten minutes screaming at him while tears ran down my face. If there was any consolation, Brad looked completely remorseful—and totally freaked out.
Now, I'm at my best friend's house and still bawling my eyes out. I probably look hideous already, what with my makeup all smudged up and running down my face. The large pile of tissues tinged with black on the coffee table practically confirms it.
Freaking Brad.
"I don't get it. Why did he dump you? You're a great catch."
"Right?" I sniffle, blowing snot into the tissue before tossing it on top of the pile.
Allie wrinkles her nose at it then turns back to me. "I mean, you're one of the prettiest girls in school. And popular, too. Did he hit his head while playing lacrosse or something?"
This is what I love most about Allie. She says the right words when I'm at my lowest. She knows how to lift my spirits up.
But it's true. I have one of the prettiest faces in Maple Grove High. I'm not even going to pretend to be humble about it. I'm well aware of my physical attributes.
I have long, silky reddish-brown hair that flows down my back. Naturally thick, curly lashes that frame my hazel eyes. Pink, soft lips with a peaked Cupid's bow, and small dimples on either side.
I wish I could say that I have curves to die for, but they're pretty average. No big boobs and hourglass figure on this girl—just your regular B-cup and slim waist and hips. I have a good height though, standing at five feet and nine inches, and topping at six feet with high heels on.
All in all, I'm happy and confident with the way I look.
But back to the real issue—Brad and I were good together. We rarely fought. There was little to no drama in our relationship. And I always made sure to be a supportive girlfriend. If there was a lacrosse game, I would be there to watch. If he wanted to go to some party, I was right there with him. And whenever he had a problem—like a difficult homework—I always provided help.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was great.
Which is why I'm completely stumped that he broke up with me. Had I been too demanding? Or maybe he found my kissing skills subpar? But he always complimented me for being an excellent kisser. But what did I really know? He dumped me.
"I gotta say, Red, this is the prettiest I’ve ever seen you," comes an amused male voice that makes me stiffen.
I lift my eyes and see Grayson, Allie's older brother, smirking down at me.
"Shut up," I snap, uncaring that he's seeing me looking like a raccoon. It’s just Gray.
I’ve known the guy since I was, like, five. I’ve seen him run around the playground naked, chasing girls and making them scream by showing them his tiny-size dick. I’ve seen him plucking booger from his nose. And I’ve unwillingly smelled his disgusting farts every time he farted in front of my and Allie’s faces back when he was at the obnoxious ages of eleven to thirteen.
He’s different from any other guys I've met. He's the one guy I’ll never be self-conscious with.
But I digress.
Because here’s the thing about Grayson Turner: he’s a senior like Brad and a year older than me and Allie. And again, like Brad, he plays lacrosse. In fact, he’s the captain of the team—which makes him the most popular guy in school. The title, which I know, my ex has always wanted for himself.
He’s also extremely hot. Right now, he’s in a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his thick, light brown hair damp like he just came out of the shower. Which is probably the case since I can smell the clean, cool scent of his shampoo from where I’m sitting.
Which does nothing to me because, again, it’s just Gray.