Chapter 12 The Almost Kiss
T he fake relationship had rules.
Lena knew this because she had written them.
Printed them.
Highlighted them.
Handed them to Nico Reyes across the media room table like a woman with sense, boundaries, and a survival instinct.
Public appearances only.
No private pretending.
No unnecessary touching.
No kissing.
No confusion.
That last one had not made it onto the official document, but it should have. In bold. Underlined. Possibly laminated and taped to Nico’s forehead.
Because Lena was confused.
Deeply.
Professionally.
Catastrophically.
And Nico was making it worse by standing across the student union ballroom in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, looking like every bad decision in Westbridge had learned to hold a glass of sparkling water and brood under warm lighting.
The event was supposed to be simple.
A campus athletics mixer.
Low stakes, according to Talia.
Which was rapidly becoming Lena’s least favorite phrase because low stakes apparently meant cameras, donors, student reporters, Savannah Price circling like perfume with teeth, and half the university watching to see whether Lena Hart and Nico Reyes looked like a couple or a cover-up.
Lena stood near a tall cocktail table with Maya Bennett beside her, pretending to listen to a student ambassador explain the raffle system.
Maya was not pretending to do anything.
Maya was staring at Nico.
“Your fake boyfriend is doing that thing again,” Maya said.
Lena kept her smile on. “He is not my fake boyfriend.”
“That is literally his current job title.”
“Temporary public relationship partner.”
“Lena.”
“What?”
“That sounds like something a lawyer says right before everyone goes to jail.”
Lena took a sip of her lemonade because champagne at university events was reserved for donors, not daughters of coaches currently one scandal away from becoming part of the scandal.
Across the room, Nico looked down at his phone.
His face changed.
Not much.
No one else would have noticed.
Lena did.
The wall came down fast. His jaw locked. His shoulders stiffened beneath the black fabric of his shirt. The glass in his hand lowered to his side like he had forgotten it existed.
Then he looked toward the exit.
Lena’s stomach tightened.
Something was wrong.
Again.
Because apparently Nico Reyes did not have ordinary notifications. He had emotional grenades with screen brightness.
Maya followed her gaze. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you about to find out?”
“No.”
Maya gave her a look.
Lena sighed. “Probably.”
Before she could move, Nico’s eyes lifted and found hers across the ballroom.
The contact lasted two seconds.
Maybe three.
Long enough for the room to blur.
Long enough for Lena to feel that annoying, dangerous tug beneath her ribs.
Then he looked away and headed for the side doors.
Lena set down her glass.
Maya caught her wrist. “Careful.”
“I’m just checking on him.”
“That sentence is how every bad romance decision begins.”
Lena pulled free gently. “Good thing this is a fake one.”
Maya’s expression softened in a way Lena did not like at all.
“Sure,” she said. “Fake.”
Lena left before Maya could say anything else.
She slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, smiling at familiar faces, nodding at a donor’s wife, avoiding Eli Grant’s curious stare near the media table. She reached the side doors just as they swung shut behind Nico.
The hallway outside was quieter, lit by overhead fluorescents that made everything look too honest.
Nico stood near the vending machines, one hand braced against the wall, head bowed.
“Nico?”
His shoulders tensed.
For one second, she thought he might walk away.
He did not.
Progress, maybe.
Or exhaustion.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Following you, apparently.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I’m starting to notice that’s your favorite sentence.”
“It’s usually true.”
Lena stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. Not too close. Not yet.
His phone was still in his hand.
Screen down.
Grip too tight.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
She looked at his hand.
Then at his face.
“That is aggressively untrue.”
His mouth tightened. “Go back inside.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“No,” she repeated, softer this time. “Not until you tell me why you look like someone just threatened your life.”
His eyes flashed.
Wrong guess.
Or too close.
He slipped his phone into his pocket. “I said it’s nothing.”
“And I said you’re a terrible liar.”
That should have made him snap.
Instead, he laughed once.
Short.
Empty.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“Being called a liar by the girl who gets paid in smiles.”
The words hit.
Lena went still.
Nico saw it immediately.
Regret moved through his face, but he caught it too late.
“Lena—”
“No, it’s fine.” Her smile appeared automatically. She hated it. Hated him for seeing it. Hated herself more for needing it. “You’re upset. I walked into range. Casualties happen.”
His jaw clenched. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That.” His voice roughened. “Smile like I didn’t just hurt you.”
The hallway seemed to shrink around them.
A vending machine hummed beside them. From behind the ballroom doors, laughter rose and fell, bright and distant. Someone’s shoes clicked down another corridor, then disappeared.
Lena held his gaze.
Then, slowly, she let the smile go.
Nico looked almost relieved.
That made her chest hurt.
“What did the message say?” she asked.
He looked away.
“Nico.”
His throat moved.
“It was nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
Her hands curled at her sides. “Was it about your family?”
His silence answered.
The air left her lungs.
“Nico.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not pitying you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.” She stepped closer before she could stop herself. “I am angry.”
That made him look at her.
“Why?”
“Because someone is using the people you love to hurt you, and you keep acting like being alone with it makes you stronger.”
His expression changed.
Subtly.
Dangerously.
“You don’t know what makes me strong.”
“No,” she said. “But I know what makes you tired.”
His eyes held hers.
For a second, she thought he might give in.
Not completely. Nico did not seem built for surrender. But maybe enough to let her stand beside him without treating it like theft.
Then his phone buzzed again.
They both looked down.
This time, he did not move fast enough.
The screen lit through the fabric of his pocket, but the vibration made him flinch.
Lena’s gaze lifted to his face.
“How many?” she asked.
He looked away.
“How many messages?”
“Enough.”
“From the same number?”
“Lena.”
“Show me.”
“No.”
“If someone is threatening you—”
“They’re not threatening me.”
“They mentioned your family.”
His eyes sharpened. “I said no.”
The hallway chilled.
Lena stepped back.
Not because she was afraid of him.
Because he looked like he needed the space and hated that he did.
“Okay,” she said.
Suspicion flickered across his face. “Okay?”
“I don’t like it,” she said. “But okay.”
He stared at her like consent was a language he had heard of but did not fully trust.
The ballroom doors opened behind them.
Savannah Price stepped into the hallway.
Of course.
Because the universe had timing and a grudge.
She paused when she saw them, her glossy mouth curving like she had stumbled upon exactly what she had come looking for.
“Oh,” Savannah said. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Nico said.
Lena said, “No.”
They looked at each other.
Savannah’s smile sharpened. “Trouble already? That’s unfortunate. You two photograph so well.”
Lena turned toward her. “Do you need something, Savannah?”
“Just air.” She leaned against the doorframe, phone in hand. “It’s crowded in there.”
“Then breathe somewhere else,” Nico said.
Savannah’s eyes brightened. “Protective again.”
Nico took one step forward.
Lena caught his wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough.
The contact snapped through them both.
Nico stopped.
Savannah saw.
Lena hated that.
Savannah’s gaze dropped to Lena’s hand on Nico’s wrist, then lifted slowly.
“So convincing,” she murmured.
Lena smiled.
The third smile.
The dangerous one.
“Thank you.”
Savannah’s expression flickered.
“Careful,” Savannah said softly. “People are starting to wonder whether you’re fixing his image or ruining yours.”
Nico’s entire body went still.
Lena felt the fury in him like heat through skin.
Her fingers tightened around his wrist.
Not for cameras.
Not for strategy.
For him.
“I think people should find better hobbies,” Lena said.
Savannah tilted her head. “Maybe. But stories are more fun when everyone knows they’re fake.”
Then she slipped back into the ballroom.
The doors shut behind her.
For three seconds, neither Lena nor Nico moved.
Then Nico looked down at her hand.
She released him.
Too quickly.
Again.
He noticed.
Again.
His voice was quiet. “You should go back inside.”
Lena shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Lena.”
“If you tell me what happened, I’ll stop asking.”
His mouth twisted. “No, you won’t.”
Probably true.
She sighed. “Fine. If you tell me whether you are safe, I’ll stop asking for tonight.”
He looked at her.
Something tired moved across his face.
“Physically?” he asked.
The distinction made her stomach twist.
“Yes.”
“I’m safe.”
“And your family?”
His jaw flexed. “For now.”
For now.
Two words.
A thousand terrible possibilities.
Lena closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. “Okay.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “You keep saying that like it doesn’t cost you.”
“It does.”
His expression shifted.
“But I’m trying,” she said.
The words echoed his from the donor party.
I don’t trust you. But I’m trying to.
Nico heard it.
She knew he did because the hardness in his face thinned for half a second.
The ballroom suddenly felt impossible.
The lights. The noise. The people waiting to decide whether their fake love was real enough to keep watching.
Lena glanced toward the exit at the end of the hall. “Come on.”