Chapter 12 #2
All it would take is for me to lean in.
I cut the thought dead. Shove it away. Don’t let it take root.
Then Serena is scrambling away, putting distance between us. “Be glad you don’t have a throw pillow on this couch, or I’d be smothering you right now,” she says, shooting me dagger-eyes but laughing, too.
“Love to see you try,” I shoot back, trying to keep my tone light, even as my heart pounds.
I’ve not exactly got much to compare it to, but fake dating Serena has been more fun than any relationship I’ve ever had.
With Jen, I was always booking last-minute flights and sitting front row at fashion shows, pretending not to mind when she chose attending a new club opening together over something quieter, trying to be the kind of boyfriend she wanted me to be.
But with Serena, I can just be me. She’s seen every version of me—awkward, cocky, quiet—and she’s never asked me to be anything other than myself.
I can talk for hours about whether I should hire a private detective to find my mom, and she never once tells me to make a decision or change the subject.
Which makes this whole situation one hell of a mind fuck.
Because Serena might feel like the easiest, most natural girlfriend I’ve ever had, but she isn’t actually my girlfriend. And never will be.
Serena steps away in the direction of the spare room, throwing the next comment over her shoulder. “And anyway, we can’t go to bed. I promised Harper we’d do a late-night selfie from your bed and post it on your socials. I’m going to get my pjs on.”
She disappears into the spare room before I can respond, leaving me sitting on the couch in my empty apartment with my head still spinning.
Serena has been on my bed countless times before.
We used to sleep top and tail at the ranch until we were twelve and Mama made me move to the pull-out in Jake’s room whenever Serena stayed over.
But suddenly everything feels supercharged.
I never expected this fake dating thing to mess with my head so much. I run a hand over my shaved head, trying to shake off the tension building inside me. I hear the soft rustle of fabric from the spare room and imagine Serena pulling off her sweater, slipping out of her—
No! I shut the thought down and drag myself up to brush my teeth. I will not perv over my best friend.
By the time I’m back in my room, Serena is flopped on top of my covers, wearing a loose tee and shorts that show off long, toned legs I pretend not to notice. She’s makeup free, hair pulled into a messy bun, and looking effortlessly beautiful.
She smiles. “Ready?”
“Sure,” I reply, dropping onto the bed beside her.
“You need to take your tee off,” she says, and I don’t miss the cute way her cheeks color a fraction. Maybe I’m not the only one finding this new level of fake intimacy hard to process.
I pull off my tee and open my arms for her so she can nestle against my chest. I glance down at her, catching the contrast of our skin.
Serena is golden tanned and sun-warmed but still looking pale next to me.
I have the in between of my mom’s white skin and my dad’s rich brown.
A reminder every time I look in the mirror that no matter how much love is between me and Mama and my brothers, no matter how damn proud I am to be a Sullivan, I will always carry my biological parents with me.
Then Serena snaps a few pictures and we make silly faces, goofing around and laughing at each other. Easy as breathing.
“Done,” she says, posting one of the photos and shifting away, leaving my body feeling cold without her pressed against it.
I turn on my side to face her, propping my head up with one hand. “The fans seem to be buying it,” I say. “I’m getting less DMs, and there was no more than the usual crowd of fans waiting after the game tonight. If you wanted to stop early so you could go on an actual date, I get it.”
She sighs. “With my track record, I think I’m better off single.”
No way I’m arguing with that. Serena has the worst taste in men, but I can’t help pushing it. “Still,” I tease, unable to stop myself from leaning closer, riding high on the buzz of whiskey shots and winning, wanting to feel her warmth against me. “No real dates. No hookups. No fun.”
She gives me a dry look. “If you mean sex, Chase. I can live without it. It’s overrated.”
“What?” The word falls out of my mouth on an exhale.
“Oh, come on. Mind-blowing sex is a myth. It’s something movies invented to sell tickets and give women unrealistic expectations.”
There’s a pause where I just stare at her, my brain short-circuiting. I’m aware we’re moving into uncharted territory. We’ve never talked sex before. And yet I can’t stop myself. “Serena Hayes, are you seriously telling me you’ve never had good sex?”
Her smile fades and she draws her lower lip between her teeth. “Define ‘good’?” she says, voice quiet.
And fuck if I don’t want to pummel Ryan and every other selfish prick of an ex for not worshipping Serena’s body and showing her how good that should feel.
She lets out a small hollow laugh. “I guess anyone who has to ask you to define good sex probably hasn’t had it. How sad is that?”
“I mean… yeah… pretty sad. I might not be very good at the long-term thing, but I know how to make sure a woman never has to ask that question,” I reply.
“So I should sleep with you, is that what you’re saying?
” She laughs at her own joke, but suddenly I’m hyper-aware of how close our bodies are.
How we’re lying on my bed, alone, in the semi-darkness.
And I’m drinking in how beautiful she is—her cheeks flushed from the mention of sex, her lips so damn close to mine.
All I can think about is that kiss on the sidelines earlier and how much I want to do it again.
Except that’s against the rules. No kissing except in public.
No falling for each other. That’s what we both agreed. That’s what Serena expects from me.
“I’m just saying it’s a damn shame no one’s treated you the way you deserve,” I say quietly, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.
Her eyes lock with mine, and then she looks away quickly, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
It feels like we’re dancing on a tightrope.
One wrong move and it’s over. Not just this moment.
But maybe our friendship, too. I won’t risk it.
Not when I can’t give her the future she wants.
I draw in a slow breath and let the silence settle around us.
Inside, my pulse hammers, my body hyper-aware of hers just inches away.
Everything in me is begging to give in. To feel her beneath me, around me, to hear my name on her lips in the dark.
“I should go back to the spare room,” she whispers into the silence.
“Two more minutes,” I reply, before I can stop myself. I can’t lie to myself anymore. I want Serena. I want to kiss every curve, explore every inch, make her feel worshipped and wanted in a way she’s never known. The way she deserves.
But I can’t…