The Art of Falling in Love with Your Fake Fiancé: A small town closed door romantic comedy (Sweetkis

12. Georgie

TWELVE

Ikissed him. I kissed Levi. And instead of reveling in it, I’m gonna ignore it.

For now.

Instead, I’m choosing to distract myself with other things, like our engagement. Ahem, I mean our fake engagement…hmm, that sounds proletarian. Faux engagement.

Better. Whatever it takes so I DO NOT THINK ABOUT HOW SOFT THAT MAN’S LIPS ARE.

I grab my laptop out of its bag and toss it onto the ridiculously nice couch Levi bought for this place. It smells good, like ginger and peach, which I recognize. Mr. Altman traded me a few of those candles for some books recently. Of course Levi’s couch smells freaking amazing. Like him.

My mind starts to wander back to those lips, but no. I need to find out how I’m supposed to act now that I’m engaged…kind of.

It’s not like there’s a manual for this or like I’ve been to any fake engagement parties over the years. I was play engaged to Tommy Woodson in the third grade, and had a wedding to one of my stuffed dolls when I was little. Does that count?

These are all questions I ask myself as I curl up on the couch with my laptop. A bang from the bathroom down the hallway causes Toto to sit up out of his afternoon slumber, eyeing me and then casting a glance in the way of the noise.

“It’s Levi,” I remind him. “Friend.”

Toto puts his head back down as I hit return on my Google search, I’m fake engaged now what, while in the distance Levi sings the first few lines of “Texas Hold ’Em.” I can only say, the man does not sound like Beyoncé. Judging by the way Toto’s ears go flat against his skull, I don’t think Levi’s going to win any awards anytime soon for his voice, but we won’t tell him that.

Beyoncé. Rhymes with fiancé. Where was I?

Ah yes, the internet. Leave it to Google, I find a million answers to my question. From articles about how to use being fake engaged to get discounts—which I never thought of!—to creating a gift list so people could buy your wedding gifts and stock your house…smart. Some people have faked their engagement for social media as an experiment, which sounds really funny and also awful to me, while some have done it in order to stop the other sex from hitting on them all the time.

While the latter two don’t appeal, the discounts…now there’s something I hadn’t thought of.

I’m super curious about being marriage-adjacent, and I’d love to know what discounts are offered for brides. The last I heard, places usually hike their prices up if they find out you’re getting married. Venues, cakes, catering. The cost goes up by almost twenty-five percent in some areas, and can even go up more once you say you’re a bride and you’re planning your wedding.

I tap on a link and get pulled down a rabbit hole of ideas: from gym memberships to trialing deejays or having bands try out for your reception. As I click and search, and read and learn the ways, Toto wanders the room, smelling all the things. I keep one eye on him as he does, knowing he’s just getting used to our temporary home.

Temporary. Everything is temporary, isn’t it? Or maybe it’s me. Maybe because of my childhood, I’m attracted to the temporary. My stay here, my time with Levi, the fact that I’m not really engaged to him, our time on Earth…

I shake my head. “No need to get existential,” I say out loud as Toto grunts. I cast a glance in his direction to see what’s interested him so much in the corner, and it’s the pile of clothes Levi brought in from his truck. What are the chances he had an old bag of things he was supposed to take months ago to Goodwill still in his SUV? Chances were good, I found out, and he got lucky in finding an old pair of sweats with the Carolina Cardinals logo emblazoned across the legs and one of his mom’s old sweaters.

“Georgie?” Levi calls from the shower.

“Coming!” I hop up, my original task on pause. I was supposed to bring Levi’s clothes to him and throw them in the bathroom, but…sidetracked. This whole kiss thing has me spinning out. Like seeing a sparkly butterfly in the middle of a rainstorm while hanging out with Chris Martin bareback on a horse wearing a sombrero. You’d turn your head, too.

“Stay put, discount websites, I’m coming back for you,” I whisper, tapping the computer and standing, my foot not hurting so much at the moment but still tender.

As I take a step toward the pile, Toto looks me in the eye as he swivels around and lifts his back leg. My mouth hangs open, and he commences in peeing all over the only set of clothes that Levi had to put on that are not stained bright red with tomato sauce.

“Toto, no!” I cry out, trying to step-clomp over to him as fast I can, not that I can do anything about it now. It doesn’t help that there is a lot of urine coming out of this dog. A lot.

“Hey, Georgie, can you hear me?” Levi calls again.

I look in the direction of his voice and then back at my dog. “What have you done?”

Slowly, I make my way down to the bathroom door, step, clomp. Step. Clomp. That’s me, limping in my most exaggerated way. Step, clomp. Step, clomp.

“So,” I call out, leaning against the door as the water cuts off, “we’ve got a bit of an issue.”

“What’s that?” Levi’s voice is muffled. He’s probably under a towel. At least I had quick access to towels in my suitcase when we got back here.

“Your clothes,” I peer back down the hall only to see Toto sniffing the pile as he lifts his leg again. “Toto! Stop. Lie down.”

There’s clamoring on the other side of the door before it swings open. I find one very wet Levi Porter standing in front of me with a towel loosely draped around his hips.

I spy abs. I spy a rock-solid chest. I spy…

“What does Toto have to do with my clothes?”

Levi shakes me out of my dazed state. Is my jaw still attached to my head? I have no words; this man is half-dressed perfection. His broad shoulders glisten with droplets of water, each muscle defined and sculpted, like a work of art. The towel hangs low on his hips, teasingly revealing just enough to send my heart racing. He moves with a casual grace, every step commanding attention. I try to tear my gaze away, but it’s impossible; he’s like a magnet, drawing me in with ease.

Do not look at his body, do not look at his…I can’t help it, my eyes must be boring a hole into his abs. Movement catches my attention and I follow a trail of water as it trickles down his twelve-pack—because why bother with six?—ever so slowly and oh so deliciously headed to where the towel meets his skin.

I am not prepared.

“Hey.” He chuckles, fully catching me gaping at him. “My clothes?”

“Peed on.” No easy way to say it. I take a step back and try to get out of the trajectory of his Adonis-like figure. What I wouldn’t do to touch one of those muscles. My eyes flick to find his dancing with what I can only describe as sheer delight.

He laughs. “You’re joking.”

I shake my head vigorously. Maybe too vigorous because I feel dizzy. “It wasn’t me.”

Levi’s eyes widen and he throws his head back and laughs. His laugh is good and rich, and he’s distracted so I can stare at his chest some more.

And it is nice.

“So, Toto peed on my things?” he asks.

“Sorry, it happened so fast,” I say, waving my hands in the air around me. I need something to keep them busy; they feel detached from my body right now. Knitting. It’s a good day to take up knitting. Keeps hands busy so they don’t try to reach out and touch someone. Like Levi. “Maybe the smell of your dogs was on them?”

“That’s a very real possibility,” he says, bright blue eyes still sparkling. “But…” He looks down at his towel. “It leaves me with literally the towel I’m wearing.”

I chew on the side of my cheek, not laughing but thinking. I snap my fingers. “I know—I’ve got some oversized clothes you can wear.”

“You?” Levi looks my body up and down, from the top of my head to the tip of my feet. “We’re not quite the same size.”

I mean, he’s right. I’m about five foot six, and he’s gotta be pushing six foot two. “I didn’t say the look would be pretty or trendy, but it’ll get you home so you can get to your own things.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I start my step-clomp out to the living room, headed to a suitcase I know has clothing in it, turning around when I hear the sound of feet hitting the floor behind me.

“Figured I should follow you so you don’t have to double back and hobble all around,” he says, smirking. “You sound like a serial killer in a Halloween movie.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest?” I say sarcastically, forcing a syrupy sweet Southern drawl to my words, making him smile.

I point to the suitcase where I think I have some old sweats and he pads over, opening its top. Of course the first thing he finds is one of my bras. I’ve got my lingerie and undergarments on the top of the pile. He pinches it between his thumb and forefinger and holds it in the air.

“Didn’t peg you for purple lace, Georgie,” he manages slyly.

“Give me that,” I say, swiping it from his hand. I bend over and push all of my undergarments to the side, showing him where there’s an old pair of sweatpants and my giant hoodie that says ‘GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN’ in sparkly letters that Riley gave me for my birthday last year, only it’s missing the ‘S’ in the word ‘girls’ now. “There. Those things will work.”

He inspects the hoodie, casting a look of doubt in my direction. “GIRL JUST WANNA HAVE FUN?”

“Hey, at least there’s a fix.” I say wryly. Mostly a fix for me. I need him dressed and quick cause it’s a little too much for me to handle right now.

He snickers as he picks them up and, after another look my way, heads back to the bathroom to change. I hobble back down the hall with my phone in hand, praying that he comes out unassuming so I can snap a photo of him in what will have to be his worst outfit ever.

The door to the bathroom opens and he steps out. It’s better than I could have imagined. The gray sweatpants are tight, pretty much not leaving anything up to the imagination if you know what I mean, and they’re about five inches too short for this man’s legs. He looks like a sausage stuffed in those things, but I gotta admit, his butt looks incredible.

I bet I could bounce a quarter off it.

Now, the oversized hoodie is working, but it does ride up a little. So that, combined with the fact that the sweats aren’t quite up to par makes him look like he’s wearing a belly shirt.

And I am here for it.

I hold up my phone, grinning, and snap a quick pic. Levi’s eyes widen when he realizes what I’m up to. He takes a swipe in the air, trying to grab it from me.

“Uh-uh.” I giggle, holding the phone in the air as I move backward. Note to self: don’t try to run from a crime you’re committing unless your feet are both in working order.

“You’re injured; it’s not like you can get far.” He chuckles, reaching out and swiping at me again, this time his hand manages to grab my arm and stop me while his other arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me in closeandtightagainsthischestlikethis.

The air escapes me as I drag my eyes up to his. I lean backward, not able to help taunting him as I hold the phone out of reach.

“You can’t really get it, can you?”

His eyes narrow. “I can get it, if I want it.”

My stomach dips and dives. I want him to want me. That thought is something I need to deal with, but I also simply want to kiss him again. I wonder if he feels the same?

So, I test the waters. “How bad do you want it?”

I’ve read in my romance books about hooded eyes, but not until this moment do I understand what that means. Levi’s eyes are indeed hooded and he’s looking at me with an intensity that I’ve never experienced before with anyone, not only him.

I feel his grasp around my waist shift as he grips the back of my shirt. “Bad.”

His fingers come up, raking through my hair, and I let out a heavy sigh. His lips are on my neck, hitting the tender spot just behind my earlobe as he traces a trail of kisses along my jawline and up to my lips, where he pauses.

“Is that bad enough?” he growls, pulling away.

“Could be better,” I tease, standing on my tiptoes and lightly placing my lips on his, holding the kiss for a second before I pull away.

He smirks. “Trying to usurp me?”

I never have a chance to retort, his hands are in my hair as he pulls me in, slanting his lips across mine, his tongue ever so lightly tracing a line across my bottom lip. In turn, I thread my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me, wanting more.

My weight isn’t quite distributed well because of my injury, and I’m trying to stay balanced. As if he senses my struggle, Levi, while expertly keeping his mouth pressed on mine, reaches down and hikes me up so he’s carrying me. I’m straddled now on the front of him, our limbs tangled and our kisses sweet and searching, and we make our way back to the living room.

I am carried away and lost in this moment, not needing to come out of it, but then I remember…we have to. We’re getting carried away and I like it, so it’s time to slow it down. Reluctantly, I stop the magic and break the kiss, my lips tingling with the ghost of his touch.

“Hey,” I say, searching his eyes as I pull back. I’m up and straightening my hair, my shirt, my everything. Wow. I am shooketh.

“Hey,” he whispers, looking at me in a way he’s never done before. I know a lot of people use that phrase to describe moments like this, but trust me: when it happens to you, you’ll know.

Now, I do the unthinkable. I look at my watch, showing him the time. “You need to get back for Duncan, don’t you?”

His eyes speak volumes, but we need to put all of this, what just happened here, on pause for a hot minute. He nods.

“Yes.”

I point to the front door. “Then go on and get. I do not want Mary calling you and thinking I’m holding you up.”

He looks at me like he’s got something to say, but instead he bites his lip and shakes his head. “You’re right. I’ll go clean up the bathroom and then I’m out of here.”

I watch him as he exits the living room and sashays that fine ass back down the hall, shocked that I even used that term to describe him, but hey, it’s a day for firsts.

Our first kiss in public for show, and our first kiss behind closed doors for…us? I know we’ll have to talk about this, I know it, I do, I just don’t want to. I kind of like the suspension in time of where we are, the vagueness of us. The gray area of it all. There’s something comforting to me about one-sided love. It’s when the feeling is returned that things get tricky.

But the kisses. THE KISSES. I could do that like it’s my job. All day every day for the rest of my life.

Kissing him because I needed to for Lorna’s sake is one thing, but having him kiss me and like this…child.

It’s another situation altogether.