“I’m sorry. Dick move on my part.”
For the first time ever, in all the years I’ve watched Connor from outside of his luminescent bubble of popularity and fortune, he sounds genuine. Human. It’s the small reassurance I need to do this.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?”
“Yes. You may continue with your power trip.”
Connor gapes at me, suspicion bleeding into the edges of his expression.
Checking the time on the clock above the door, I frown. If I miss any more of my classes, I’ll be written up and sent to Principal Bishop’s office. Setting my bag down, I pull out a notebook and a pen, prepared to take notes.
“What kind of girlfriend am I supposed to be?”
With a tiny shake of his head, he says, “Like a normal one. Just do whatever you usually do.”
Easy for him to say.
I hold back a sigh. He’s proven he’s dangerous to spill my secrets to. I don’t want to give him another one by admitting I’ve never had a boyfriend—a real, in person one, anyway. Swallowing, I consider my old online boyfriend, even though it was brief. There’s always something that keeps me from counting him.
With my minimal experience, I don’t know how to be in a relationship, pretend or otherwise.
Thoughts fly through my head, whispering to me how I’ll fail at being a fake girlfriend as much as I would a real one. That Connor will find out how pathetic I am and probably destroy me worse for it. The ugly thoughts pick away at me, promising I’ll never be the confident girl in my secret folder, driving away my inner goddess of self-love.
Fake, fake, fake.
Sad.
Unwanted.
My throat burns and I realize the rattling in my ears is my wheezing breaths.
“Are you okay? You look…”
He’ll see it so easily.
Tossing aside my notebook, I close the distance between us in a panic. Connor’s eyes widen as he cups my elbows.
“Just how long do you expect me to put on this song and dance with you? You never even told me when or how you want me to pretend. Just snap to it whenever you decide without an explanation.”
Yes, I sound crazed. I don’t care.
A bark of laughter drops from Connor’s lips as he looks me up and down. He rises from the stool, herding me back a step.
“That’s enough,” he growls, grabbing my hips and pinning me against a lab table. “This goes until I say so. You’re at my mercy here while I’ve got your dirty little secret in my power.”
Ignoring his alpha male bullshit, I throw my next question at him without missing a beat to stave off the thump of my pulse. The words flood out of me with no way of stopping them when I’m worked up.
“How long is that exactly? I’m not just going to live some indefinite lie with no expiration date when it’s your problem.” While he’s bewildered by my outburst, I wriggle away to pace. “A year? Three years? What about college? What—will it still be going on when we’re in our twenties, and we’ll be faking a marriage and two point five kids? And—”
Connor catches me around the waist, clapping a big hand over my mouth. His gray eyes are full of fascinated exasperation.
“Jesus. Are you some kind of wind up toy?” He removes his hand carefully, like he’s worried I’ll get started again. “What the fuck was all that?”
It’s like I blink back to reality, once he interrupted the flow. My panic has faded in the shock of him grabbing me. I almost smile. Until I remember why we’re here.
“I babble when I’m nervous.” Folding my arms, I shrug. He steps back. “Seriously, Connor. I’m not blindly playing along without an end date. You can’t keep using your leverage over me to keep me in line forever.”
Connor rubs his chin, studying me. I can see the gears in his head turning. “Until graduation, then. We’ll part on friendly terms as we prepare to go to college.”
“That’s it? Then you’ll leave me alone and delete my photos?”
He smirks. “I don’t get a parting gift for when I’m lonely at night?”
“Connor!”
An amused sound huffs out of him as he blocks my swatting hands, catching my wrists in his grasp. “All right, yeah. Fair. Although, little mouse, let me offer you some advice. Never trust anyone who has dirt on you. There’s always an extra copy.”
“Do you have extra copies?”
“Of course. Cloud backups.” He taps my nose. “You can smash my phone and I’ll still own you.”
Biting my lip, I skate my gaze away. “So do I have to meet your parents? Are you going to meet mine?” I gulp the lump forming in my throat. “Look, I’ve—I’ve never had a real—”
I gasp. Crap. I wasn’t planning on saying it, but then before I was aware, it was half out. Too late now. It’s difficult to continue.
Closing my eyes, my words burst out of me all at once. “I’ve never had a relationship before, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing here. If I’m going to do it with you, we need to outline every expectation, or I’ll suck at this.”
Silence follows my awkward admission. I crack my eyes open, wary of peeking.
Connor has his lips pulled to one side as he considers me. He reaches out, tangling his fingers with mine, playing with my hand. My breath turns shallow as he drags his finger over my knuckles. It feels nice.
“Not yet,” he says, watching my reactions while he touches me. The soft caresses get my heart beating erratically. Whatever he sees makes him nod. “We’ll take it slow. With the way you were texting me, I thought…never mind.” His expression turns curious and calculating. “Have you ever been kissed?”
I shake my head, breath hitching.
He hums and cradles my face with both hands. “Do you want to be kissed?”
The timbre of his voice curls around me. I can’t believe I ever brushed it off because I thought I was talking to Wyatt. The answer was right in front of me all along. Connor didn’t modify his voice to hide it.
That deep voice does things I don’t understand to my insides. It’s the same tone he always used on the phone. The dark, sensual voice of my dreams.
Do I? My throat constricts. It will be my first. Connor will rob me of all my real firsts with this fake relationship.
My lashes flutter as his thumbs glide over my cheeks. He doesn’t stop. The rich sandalwood and spicy scent wraps around me as he steps closer, angling his face toward mine.
This is crazy. I should still be angry with him for yesterday, even with the apology I can’t get over how he made me feel overnight—being the person both behind my soaring heart and the one to send it crash landing into the ground.
But his touch is so soft and gentle. I picture how his lips might feel on mine and an ache tugs in my chest. I do want it.
“I—yes. But I don’t want it to be fake.”
Those gray eyes trap me for a long beat. I think he’s going to kiss me anyway as his breath fans over my lips. My whole body feels alive, calling out for him.
Then he eases out of my space, back to business in a cool, collected tone. “No kissing. Okay. What about other PDA? It’ll be hard to convince people we’re suddenly together if I can’t act like your boyfriend. Can I still text you?”