Chapter 13
Wade
“Well, that escalated quickly,” I say as Ari drops my hand and stomps across the Langfords’ property.
She doesn’t answer.
Just keeps marching as if she can somehow outrun the tense relationship with her mom.
A slight breeze rolls across the hills, carrying the smell of pine trees and freshly cut grass.
I follow after her, keeping enough distance that she knows I’m there, but not so close that she could turn around and take her anger out on me. Something tells me Ari needs room right now. Not questions.
It’s in that quiet moment that it actually hits me.
Ari Langford just kissed me.
Not a hypothetical kiss.
Not one of the hundreds I imagined in high school.
Not a flirty almost-kiss.
An actual kiss.
Granted, it felt less like romance and more like being assaulted by an emotionally charged, crazy woman, but still.
It happened.
And the worst part?
It happened so fast I barely got to enjoy it before she shoved my face away like she was trying to reset a broken jaw.
She finally stops near the edge of a rolling hill that slopes toward a line of maple trees beginning to turn orange and red in a few places.
Her shoulders rise with one deep breath.
Then another.
Wind pushes through her hair, lifting the dark strands off her neck. Afternoon sunlight catches freckles across her nose and cheeks; I swear they weren’t there five seconds ago.
She looks soft out here.
Not sharp-tongued.
Not defensive.
Not like the woman who just grabbed my face in front of her family to prove a point.
She looks hurt, which is a side of her I’ve never really seen before.
My chest feels something with that. Something akin to caring.
That’s new.
Ari tilts her face toward the sky for a second before letting out one short puff of laughter. “Sorry,” she mutters, turning to me with a guilty grin.
“You never have to apologize for kissing me. That’s a firm personal policy of mine.”
“Do many women kiss you unexpectedly, enough that you have to make a personal policy on it?”
“It’s a new policy that only applies to you.”
Another laugh escapes her, this one more real. And then the laugh morphs into a groan as she drags both hands down her face. “I cannot believe I just did that. It was insane.”
“Freaking awesome, is what it was.”
“Because I publicly claimed you in front of my entire family?”
“No.” My eyes go softer without even meaning to. “Because you stood up for yourself…and for me.”
No one has ever done that for me before.
Before this moment, I didn’t even know I liked that sort of thing. Or maybe I only like it because Ari was the one doing it. Hard to know.
With that in the back of my mind, things feel more charged than they should, so I strive for some levity. “And because now I’m basically one step away from being added as your emergency contact.”
That earns me an eye roll.
Good. She’s recovering.
Ari folds her arms tightly across her chest. “My mom just…” She exhales hard. “She makes me so angry sometimes.”
I nod once, because I get it now. Not fully, but enough to notice how differently Barb talks to Landrie.
Enough to notice how Ari slowly folds into herself every time she feels criticized.
Enough to know she’s heard versions of that same conversation so many times they’ve started sounding true to her, and I hate that for her.
“You know what the worst part is?” she says quietly. “She’s not entirely wrong. My life is a string of bad decisions just waiting to implode.”
I don’t answer immediately because today I’m the bad decision in question, but also because I don’t think Barb is completely wrong either—at least, not about me. I get why her mother is upset. I’m not a solid bet for her daughter.
The truth behind that feels depressing.
Ari looks back toward the house. “So…” Her lips flatten as wind lifts a strand of hair across her cheek. “I guess we’re really doing this fake-dating thing?”
“Feels like we crossed the point of no return when you grabbed my face like a stress ball.”
A reluctant laugh escapes her, but she fights it quickly. “This whole charade was your idea, remember?”
“Yeah, but it’s going to benefit you more than me.”
“How?” Her expression twists. “My reasons are a family disagreement. Yours is jail time.”
“True.” I tilt my head toward her. “But you’re no match for Ashtyn.”
That hits her exactly how I knew it would.
Her eyes narrow instantly. “I’m sorry, what?”
“No offense,” I say casually, even though I’m fully enjoying this now, “but Ashtyn said herself that you’re not a threat to her.
The girl has no boundaries. She’s not going to care that I have a girlfriend.
” My gaze drifts slowly over her face before settling back on her eyes.
“But I’m happy to play along to get your mom off your back. Because that’s what good friends do.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She holds up one hand between us, but she’s smiling now in that dangerous way she gets before she verbally assaults me. “You don’t think I can get rid of Ashtyn for you?”
“I mean…” I step closer. “I had hoped, but I don’t think you can really pull off this fake-dating thing.”
“Um, did you not see what just happened in my kitchen?”
“That was because you were angry. In normal circumstances at school, you’ll crack under pressure. Or say it’s too weird because we’re friends.”
Her brows lift slowly.
Then she takes one deliberate step forward, straight into my space, until there’s barely room between us.
And there she is.
The version of Ari I remember best. The version I like best.
Competitive.
Defiant.
All fire and bad ideas.
“And you think,” she says softly, “you’ll be able to get my mom on board with you?”
Cockiness ripples through me automatically as I stare down at her. “Oh, absolutely.”
“She hates you.”
“She thinks she hates me.” My eyes drag meaningfully over her lips before meeting her stare again. “Big difference.”
“Should we bet on it?”
That gets my full attention.
“Like…”—my grin spreads slowly—“who will be the better fake boyfriend or fake girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” She lifts her chin, but she doesn’t back away. “Like, who will yield better results.”
I laugh under my breath. “I do love winning.”
“Careful.” Her smile tips. “I don’t think you remember how competitive I can be.”
“Oh, I remember. I just don’t care. That’s how confident I am.”
“Fine. Here are the terms.” She points at me, but her finger lands against my chest accidentally—or maybe on purpose, but neither of us moves it. “You need to convince my mom you’re an acceptable boyfriend—”
“I am an acceptable boyfriend.”
“You’re a human red flag in P.E clothes.”
“That feels exaggerated.”
She ignores me. “And I need to make Ashtyn back off without turning your life into a Dateline special.”
“Is there a deadline?”
“Obviously.” Her finger presses harder against my chest before finally dropping away. “It’s whoever does it first.”
I pretend to think it over seriously, but honestly, I’d agree to almost anything if it means I get to keep standing this close to her.
“No,” I say finally. “I think it should be whoever does it best, considering how different the two situations are.”
“Okay, fine. Whoever does it best by Landrie’s wedding wins.”
This might be the greatest arrangement ever proposed to me.
“And what exactly do I win?”
Ari smirks. “The satisfaction of knowing you were right.”
“That’s it?” I step even closer, close enough now that her head has to tilt back slightly to hold my gaze. “I was hoping for a bigger prize than that.”
Her eyes flick down to my mouth for half a second before she catches herself.
“Don’t press your luck.”
Oh, I absolutely plan to.
I offer her my hand. “Deal.”
She eyes it suspiciously before finally sliding her fingers into mine.
Warm and small and soft from lotion or soap or whatever women use that makes them feel so dang nice to touch.
And for one weird second, the whole thing stops feeling fake.
It feels flirty.
Dangerously flirty.
And more real than any other handshake I’ve done in my twenty-seven years.
Ari must feel it too, because her eyes lock on mine for one suspended beat too long. Then she quickly tries tugging her hand back, but I don’t let go easily.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Jaxon calls over the breeze. “I gotta go.”
Ari takes one giant step back as if she’s embarrassed by how close we were.
“Like I said,” I snicker, “you’ll crack under pressure.”
I don’t need to look back at her as I walk to Jaxon’s truck to know she’s glaring at me, but I kind of like it.