Chapter 4
Sadie
If this is what fake dating feels like, I’m not sure my heart is built for it.
The Devil’s Peak Miners stadium smells like hot dogs, sunscreen, and small-town chaos. The bleachers are packed. Kids in oversized jerseys run the aisles. Someone’s cowbell keeps clanging off-beat behind us.
And Levi Kane is sitting way too close to me.
His thigh presses against mine like it’s an accident but I don’t think it is.
“Relax,” I murmur under my breath as I toss a piece of popcorn into my mouth. “You look like you’re guarding classified information.”
“I am,” he replies calmly. “You.”
I nearly choke.
We’re halfway down the third-base line, perfectly visible to half the town. The church ladies are seated two rows up, whispering and watching like wildlife documentarians tracking rare mating patterns.
I lean into him deliberately, resting my elbow on his shoulder. “We need to sell it better.”
He glances down at me. “Better how?”
“Laugh more,” I whisper. “Touch me more.”
His brow lifts slightly. “Careful what you request.”
“You’re the one who said believable.”
He reaches into the popcorn bucket, his arm brushing across my chest in the process. The contact is brief but heat still skitters down my spine.
“You’re flushed,” he says quietly.
“It’s ninety degrees.”
“It’s seventy-three.”
I shoot him a look. He just watches me.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Let’s rehearse.”
“Rehearse what?”
“Couple behavior.”
“You mean like this?”
His hand slides to my knee.
My breath stutters before I can stop it.
“That’s not subtle,” I manage.
“Subtle doesn’t convince Mrs. Dottie Henderson.” He squeezes once, then removes his hand.
Like he didn’t just melt half my nerve endings.
“Okay,” I say lightly. “We need inside jokes.”
“We have inside jokes.”
“New ones.”
He leans closer. “You snore.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I breathe with enthusiasm.”
He laughs quietly, low in his chest, and it hits me straight in the ribs.
We settle into the performance easily after that. I steal his drink. He wipes popcorn salt from my lip with his thumb. We lean in close when we talk, like secrets matter. I forget, briefly, that it’s fake.
The game stretches on. The Miners are losing. The crowd grows restless.
Then the music changes. That cheesy, upbeat jingle that signals one thing.
“Oh no,” I mutter.
The giant screen above the outfield lights up.
KISSCAM.
The camera pans across couples in the stands. Teenagers. Elderly pairs. A mom and dad with a toddler who smashes his face between theirs.
The crowd cheers every time.
Levi goes very still.
“You look terrified,” I say.
“I don’t perform on command.”
“You’re literally a public servant.”
“That’s different.”
The camera swings closer. Row by row. Seat by seat. My pulse picks up.
“Relax,” I say, though I’m the one gripping his arm now. “The odds—”
The camera stops.
On us.
Our faces explode across the stadium screen.
The crowd erupts.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
“Of course,” he mutters.
The chanting starts almost immediately.
“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!”
I glance up at the screen. My face is flushed. Levi looks like he’s preparing for battle. The entire stadium is watching. The church ladies are practically vibrating with joy behind us.
I lean closer to him, voice low. “We don’t have to.”
His jaw tightens.
“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “We do.”
The words hit deeper than they should. The crowd keeps chanting. Levi turns toward me slowly.
My stomach flips.
“This is just for optics,” I say under my breath.
He doesn’t answer but his hand slides to the side of my face.
The stadium noise fades into a distant roar as he leans in.
The first brush of his mouth against mine is controlled.
Like he’s still honoring the rules. It lasts half a second.
Then something shifts. His fingers tighten at my jaw.
My hand fists into his shirt automatically. The kiss deepens.
It’s real.
Too real.
The world tilts.
I taste popcorn and summer heat and everything we never said.
The crowd explodes.
But I don’t hear it.
I hear the way he exhales against my mouth like he’s been holding that breath for years.
When he pulls back, my lips tingle.
His forehead rests against mine for a fraction of a second before he catches himself and straightens.
The stadium is losing its mind.
The announcer shouts something about “Devil’s Peak’s favorite couple.”
The KissCam lingers for a beat too long before moving on.
I blink at him.
“That escalated,” I manage.
He doesn’t look amused.
“That wasn’t fake,” he says quietly.
My pulse thunders in my ears. “You went off-script.”
“You wanted believable.”
My chest rises and falls too fast. “You could’ve kept it light.”
His gaze drops to my mouth.
“You think I can keep anything light with you?” The question burns.
“You’re supposed to be in control,” I say softly.
“I was.”
“That wasn’t control.”
He leans closer again, voice low enough that only I can hear. “That was restraint.”
The way he says it makes my knees weak. The inning changes, the crowd settles, but the air around us has shifted permanently. People start whispering. Phones come out. Somewhere behind us, I hear Mrs. Dottie gasp dramatically.
“Did you see that?” someone says loudly. “They’re back on!”
Levi sits straighter, jaw tight.
“This is going to be everywhere,” I say.
“It already is.”
He’s right.
By the seventh-inning stretch, my phone buzzes in my pocket nonstop. I finally sneak a glance.
DEVIL’S PEAK GOSSIP PAGE:
“LEVI KANE & SADIE MARSHALL: BACK ON?! ”
The video is already posted.
Replaying.
Zoomed in.
Slow-motion.
Comments flooding in.
I swallow.
“This is bad,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because now it feels… real.”
He studies me carefully. “It is real.”
“Levi.”
“What?”
“This was supposed to be controlled.”
“You can’t choreograph chemistry.”
My heart stutters.
The final inning ends with the Miners losing, but no one seems to care. As we stand, half the stadium stares openly.
Someone whistles.
Someone shouts, “About time!”
Levi takes my hand again.
As we walk down the bleachers, he stays slightly in front of me, shielding me from the crush of people, automatically protective.
Outside the stadium, the air cools slightly as dusk settles over Devil’s Peak. The bar across the street is already blasting music. Through the open windows, I see the big screen replaying the KissCam moment. On loop. My stomach flips.
“They’re replaying it,” I say weakly.
“Of course they are.”
A group of off-duty firefighters crowd the doorway.
Sawyer catches sight of us and grins like a man who just won the lottery.
“Nice form, Lieutenant!” he calls out.
Axel cups his hands around his mouth. “Ten out of ten commitment!”
I bury my face in Levi’s shoulder for half a second. “This is humiliating.”
His hand slides to the small of my back. “Doesn’t look humiliating from where I’m standing.”
“Of course not. You look smug.”
“I’m not smug.”
“You’re very smug.”
He glances down at me, expression unreadable. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I pull my hand free. “Because that wasn’t just performance.”
“No,” he agrees.
“It crossed a line.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re the one who said public affection.”
“Not like that.”
“You want me to kiss you like I don’t mean it?”
The question makes my chest tighten.
“You meant it?”
“Yes.”
My breath catches. “You weren’t supposed to.”
He leans in, just enough that his mouth hovers near my ear. “Then maybe we need new terms.”
My pulse spikes. “We had rules.”
“We did.”
“And now?”
“Now,” he says quietly, “we figure out if we’re still pretending.”
The bar erupts in cheers again as our KissCam moment replays on the screen inside.
I watch it for half a second. The way I melted into him. The way he pulled me closer. It doesn’t look staged. It looks inevitable.
I turn back to him. “This is dangerous.”
His hand slides back to my waist. “I know.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
The honesty steals my breath. “Levi…”
He tips my chin up gently. “You wanted ninety days.”
“I did.”
“You still have them.” His thumb brushes lightly along my jaw. “But I’m not kissing you halfway again.”
Heat floods my veins. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
The gossip page continues to explode. The church ladies are probably already drafting invitations for our wedding.
But standing here under the fading summer sky, with Levi’s hand warm against my skin and the echo of that kiss still humming through me—the fake part feels like the least believable thing of all.
And that’s what scares me most.
Because if that kiss was real—then we’re not just playing with fire anymore.
We’re standing in it.