Eight
Feelings in Disguise
MIA
THE DRIVE BACK TO the city the next morning is far quieter than I expected.
The sunlight filters through the trees, casting soft patches of light across the winding country road.
Austin’s hands are firm on the steering wheel, his posture relaxed, but I can feel the tension in the air.
It's as if we're both waiting for the other to break the silence and bring up the big fat elephant in the room.
I stare out of the window, my thoughts swirling.
The kiss. That kiss.
The one that changed everything and yet, somehow, felt like nothing had changed at all. I can't stop replaying it in my head—his lips on mine, soft and insistent, making everything else feel insignificant in comparison.
But the worst part? I don’t know how to feel about it. Was it just a moment? A slip-up in the game we’re playing? Or was it something more? Something I’m not prepared for, something I don't know how to handle.
My hands are folded neatly in my lap, but they feel restless, like they want to fidget, to do something to distract me from the growing weight in my chest. What do I do with this?
I can't ignore it, but if I bring it up, will it just make things more complicated?
Or will it help me figure out where we stand?
I glance over at Austin, wondering if he’s feeling the same unease.
He’s focused on the road, his jaw set in that way that makes me wonder what’s going on in his head.
I can feel the tension between us, but I don't know how to address it. My mind is telling me to keep my distance, to hold on to the boundaries we’ve set.
But my heart . . . my heart doesn’t seem to care about boundaries.
As if he’s read my mind, Austin suddenly breaks the silence. “So,” he says, his voice casual, but there’s an edge to it, something I can’t quite place. He glances over at me quickly before returning his attention to the road. “About last night . . .”
My stomach tightens, and I’m instantly on edge. Of course, he’s going to bring it up. Why wouldn’t he? He always seems to know what to say, when to say it. And now I’m trapped in this whirlwind of emotions that I wasn’t ready for.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Austin, we don’t have to talk about it.”
He raises an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Mia, I don’t think we can just not talk about it.
” He glances at me again, and this time, his expression softens.
“Look, I know we’re in this weird, pretend relationship.
And I know we’re not supposed to get all .
. . real with each other. But that kiss . . . that wasn’t pretend.”
My heart skips a beat, and I feel my cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “It just—”
“It just happened,” he finishes for me, his tone understanding but firm. “I know. I don’t think either of us expected it. But we can’t just sweep it under the carpet, Mia. It means something.”
I bite my lip, staring down at my hands. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Talking about it makes it real. And the more we talk about it, the harder it’s going to be to pretend it didn’t happen.
“I don’t know what it means,” I confess, my voice trembling slightly. “I don’t even know if I’m ready for what it might mean.”
Austin’s gaze softens, and he pulls the car into a slower lane, his attention still on the road but his body language open, as if he’s giving me space to figure this out.
“I’m not asking you to figure it out right now,” he says, his voice gentle.
“But I’m not going to pretend like it didn’t happen.
We both felt it, Mia. I could see it in your eyes.
And honestly, I couldn’t ignore it if I tried. ”
I swallow hard again, my mind racing. This whole thing, this fake engagement, is supposed to be simple, just a way to get Amber off our backs. But now it’s not just about Amber, and it’s not just about pretending. It’s about us—what this is, and what it could become.
“Austin, I don’t want things to get complicated,” I say, almost pleading with him. “This whole thing. . . it was never supposed to be real. We’re just playing a part. You know that, right?”
“I know,” he says, his voice steady, but I can feel the weight behind it. “But just because it was supposed to be fake doesn’t mean it can’t become something real. And I’m not going to pretend like I don’t feel something for you. I think you feel it too.”
I take a deep breath, my thoughts a tangled mess. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do feel something, and I’m just terrified to admit it, even to myself. “I don’t know what to do with that,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I’m not ready for it to be real. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
Austin nods, as if he understands. “I’m not asking you to rush into anything. All I’m asking is that you don’t shut me out, Mia. Don’t shut this out.”
I look at him then, really look at him. And in that moment, I know he means it. He’s not in this for the game, for the pretending. He’s in this for us. Whatever “us” might mean.
And as much as I want to fight it, as much as I want to hold on to the walls I’ve built around myself, I can’t help but wonder—maybe it’s time to start letting them fall.
THE CAR ROLLS TO a stop in the car park of our flats, the engine purring into silence. I sit motionless, my hands in my lap, staring at the dashboard like it holds the answers to the mess I’ve landed myself in.
Austin doesn’t say anything immediately, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel as if he’s waiting for me to make the first move.
“Home sweet home,” he says finally, his voice light but tinged with something else—something I can’t quite pin down.
“Yep,” I reply, my throat tight. I unclasp my seatbelt and glance out the window, my flat looking smaller and colder than I remember. It’s like my life has shrunk since I left.
Or maybe it’s just me.
Austin leans back, stretching his arm over the steering wheel. “You’ve been quiet since . . . you know, what we discussed.”
I glance at him, his face partially shadowed in the dim fluorescent lighting of the underground car park. Of course, he looks effortlessly handsome, even after a two-hour drive. It’s infuriating.
“I’m just tired,” I mumble, fumbling with the handle of the car door. “And besides, don’t you need to go to work?”
He doesn’t buy it. I can feel his eyes on me, studying me like I’m one of his architectural blueprints he’s trying to make sense of.
“Tired, huh?” he says, his tone teasing but soft.
“You’ve been chewing your bottom lip for the past twenty minutes.
Pretty sure that’s the universal sign for overthinking. ”
“Thanks, Freud,” I snap, then wince at my own tone. “Sorry, I just . . . I have a lot on my mind.”
He doesn’t push, but he doesn’t look away either. “Fair enough,” he says. Then, after a beat, “If it’s about your dad offering to pay for the wedding, I promise I didn’t bribe him.”
I snort despite myself, a laugh bubbling up before I can stop it. “I think he was just overwhelmed by the thought of losing his baby girl.”
Austin grins. “Can’t blame him. I would be too.”
My chest tightens at his words, and I hate the way they make my stomach flip.
Because this is what Austin does—he says things that feel real, but they can’t be, can they?
None of this is real. It’s a carefully constructed charade, a lie we’re both leaning on for reasons that feel more and more flimsy with every passing moment.
I push the door open and step out into the car park, desperate for space. Austin follows me, his movements casual, but there’s an ease about him that feels too intimate. Like we’ve been doing this forever. Like we’re . . . something.
I turn to face him as he closes the car door. “You don’t have to come up,” I blurt, the words rushing out before I can stop them.
He raises an eyebrow. “I live here, so I kind of do.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the flush that creeps up my neck. “I just mean, you’ve done enough. You’ve been . . . great. With my parents. I’m sure you want to get to work, and you know, back into your world.”
He steps closer, his expression softening. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Yes. No. Maybe.
I don’t know anymore.
“I’m just saying you don’t have to play the part right now,” I mumble, folding my arms. “There’s no one watching.”
His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I swear the air between us shifts. “Mia,” he says quietly, his voice dropping to that low, smooth tone that always makes my pulse race, “I’m not just playing a part.”
My breath catches, and I hate that he can do this to me with so little effort. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” he starts, stepping even closer, “that maybe we should stop pretending this is just about convincing your parents. Maybe it’s not as fake as we thought.”
My heart pounds in my chest, a chaotic rhythm that matches the confusion swirling in my head. “Austin, please. We talked about this. We can’t—”
“Why not?” he interrupts, his gaze locking onto mine. “Tell me why not, Mia.”
Because I’m terrified.
Because I don’t know where the act ends, and the truth begins.
Because I don’t want to fall for you and find out this was all just a game.
But I can’t say any of that, so instead, I do what I always do. I deflect. “You really shouldn’t leave your foam to expire,” I say, crossing my arms and glaring at him.
Austin blinks, caught off guard, and then a grin spreads across his face. “Seriously? You’re blaming the tyre foam now?”
I shrug, my defenses snapping back into place. “Safety first.”
He laughs, low and deep, and it does something to my chest I wish it wouldn’t. “Fine,” he says, throwing up his hands. “You win this round, Jameson. But I’m not dropping this conversation. Not yet.”
“Sure, sure,” I say, turning toward the lift door and ignoring the way my pulse flutters at his words. “Let’s just get on with our lives, shall we?”