Chapter 12
VERY CONVINCING
PAIGE
“If we do this,” I said. “If we really do this... we can’t go back. Everything changes.”
“I know.”
“Jack will never forgive either of us.”
“Good. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness. He deserves to watch you thrive.”
I bit my lip, glancing at Lily.
It’s just fake dating. It’s not that serious.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s do it. Let’s give him hell.”
I signed the contract in one stroke. When I handed it back to Derek, our fingers touched for just a moment, and neither of us pulled away. His skin felt hot against mine, and I resisted the urge to hold his hand, remembering how warm and perfect it felt that afternoon when I had bandaged it.
“Now we are fake lovers?” I asked, even though the word felt odd on my tongue. Especially when Derek was looking at me like that.
“Fake-lovers, indeed,” he said, smirking.
We shook hands as if it was a business deal. His large hand felt warm, and I had to force myself to let go before I did something stupid. Like pulling him close and demanding him for the kiss that my phone had interrupted.
Rule number four: Don’t catch feelings.
That was either the best or worst decision I had ever made. Possibly both.
“So,” I asked. “Do we post the photos now or wait until morning?”
I was surprised that Derek had already planned so much ahead, and I was glad that he was thinking things through. I had always liked that about him. I didn’t have to plan or think too much whenever I was with him because he would always take care of everything, and I could relax.
Like the time I went into labor and Jack wasn’t with me and I was freaking out, but he had talked me through everything and stayed by my side the entire time.
“What better time than now?” He said, pulling up social media on his phone, and swiped through one of our pictures from the deli. “Let’s strike while the iron’s hot. By the time Jack wakes up tomorrow, this will be everywhere.”
“What do we caption it?”
I saw his thumbs type something and leaned over his shoulder and let out a small chuckle.
The caption read: Some things are worth the wait.
“I think the kids call it cringe nowadays, Derek. It’s either romantic or ominous.”
“That’s the point,” he said with a grin before posting the photo.
My heartbeat increased knowing our pictures were uploaded. Now it was public, making us very real.
“There’s no going back now,” he said.
I nodded as my phone started buzzing with notifications since he had tagged my profile. Comments, likes, and messages flooded in, asking me where my ring was or where Lily was.
It’s going to be okay.
“We should practice,” Derek said, and I nearly choked on water.
It had been a couple of days since our couple post, and Jack had started sending me threatening emails since I was ignoring his texts and calls.
We had scheduled our first public outing at a charity gala where we would officially debut our ‘relationship,’ and I was totally not freaking out about it.
“Practice what?”
“Kissing,” he said it so casually, like he was suggesting we rehearse a presentation. “For appearances at the gala tonight. People will expect us to be... affectionate. Very affectionate.”
Affectionate?
“Uh-huh. Of course,” I nodded, blood rushing to my face. “That makes sense.”
It made sense and we had signed a contract. Public displays of affection were explicitly outlined in clause three, subsection B. It was practical, professional and absolutely nothing to be nervous about.
So why are my hands shaking?
Derek stood at the kitchen table and moved closer. Close enough that I could smell his cologne. Something woody and expensive that made my head spin. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He looked casual, but there was nothing causal in the way he was gazing at me.
I’m about to kiss my boss and my best-friend to practice for our public date.
“Ready?” he asked, his blue eyes gleaming.
No. Absolutely not.
“Sure.”
He leaned in, and I froze like a deer in headlights. His lips brushed mine. It felt soft at first, but then he pulled back.
Silence hung in the surrounding air. It felt awkward, as if it was a middle school first kiss and my face burned with embarrassment.
“Sorry,” I whispered, looking anywhere but at him. “I’m just… I don’t know why I’m so—”
“Hey,” he said, his finger tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous. This is weird. I get it. We don’t have to do it.”
“It’s not weird,” I lied. I want to kiss you. “It’s fine. Let’s try again.”
I leaned in this time, determined to get it right, but our noses bumped.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped and pulled back with a mortified laugh. “I’m terrible at this.”
“You’re not terrible,” Derek said, a smile tugged at his lips, and that devastating smile made my stomach flip. He’s not allowed to be look this handsome. “You’re just overthinking it.”
“I overthink everything. It’s kind of my specialty.”
“I know.” His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “But you don’t have to overthink this. It’s just me, Paige.”
Just him. Just Derek, who had known me since we were kids. He has seen me with braces and bad perms and during that unfortunate goth phase in tenth grade. He held my hand when I went through labor and somehow looked at me like I was beautiful even when I felt like a wreck.
“Just you,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Just me,” he replied, his voice dropping into a lower octave. “Forget about the contract. Stop thinking about getting it right and just... feel.”
His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer, and suddenly the air between us felt charged. I tried not to think about how chiseled and firm his body felt pressed against mine. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I watched his pupils dilate.
“You know,” he whispered. “I’ve always thought you had the most beautiful lips.”
What?
My breath hitched in my throat. “Derek, what do you—”
“Soft and perfect with this… pouty cupid’s bow,” he said, his thumb tracing my lower lip and making me shiver. “I used to wonder what they’d taste like.”
“You did?” I asked, my words breathy and barely audible.
“Constantly,” he said, leaning in slowly and giving me time to pull away. “Want to know what I think now?”
I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. So, I just nodded.
“I think,” he whispered against my lips. “They’d taste even better than I imagined.”
Then he kissed me.
Really kissed me. Not the awkward practice attempt from before, but a proper kiss that made my knees go weak. His mouth moved against mine with confident strokes, coaxing my lips apart, and when his tongue swept against mine, I made a sound I had never heard myself make before.
My hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groaned low in his throat. The sound reverberated through me, igniting something fierce and hungry that I didn’t recognize. I wanted to keep kissing him. Taste him and explore the hard panes of his body.
Derek’s hand slid into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss, and I melted against him. He tasted of coffee and mint and very Derek-like. His body was solid and warm pressed against mine, and I could feel the rapid hammering of his heart matching my own.
But this was practice. Just practice.
So why does it feel like coming home? So familiar and perfect?
We broke apart gaspin. Derek’s eyes were dark, his lips swollen, and there was a flush across his cheekbones that made him look even more handsome.
Then, he suddenly pulled away, turning his back to me. His shoulders were tense, his breathing still uneven.
“Derek?” I asked, confused by the distance he created between us.
“That was... good,” he said, his voice strained. “Superb. Fantastic. Very convincing.”
Convincing?
Because we were faking it. This is all for show. The kiss that had felt like it rearranged my heart was just practice for him.
Reality crashed over me like cold water. Of course, it didn’t mean anything to him. I was an idiot for reading more into it.
“Yeah,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “It was very convincing. Especially the thing you did with your tongue—”
“I should... I need to make a phone call,” he said, moving toward his office, still not looking at me. “The gala starts at seven. We should leave by six-thirty.”
“Okay.”
What the hell was that?