Chapter 23
ALFIE
Islam my car door, already dreading another night of pretending I'm not thinking about her. But before I can spiral further, a familiar thud against my leg makes me pause.
“Not now, Baxter.”
The golden retriever looks up at me with those ridiculous brown eyes, tail sweeping the sidewalk hopefully. I try to step around him, but he follows, pressing against my leg like he knows I need the comfort.
“Fine.” I pull the treats from my pocket. “But only because you're persistent.”
As he happily munches his reward, I remember how Tara laughed when she first caught me sneaking him treats. “The mysterious Alfie Spencer has a soft spot for dogs,” she'd teased. “Who would've guessed?”
Baxter nudges my hand, demanding attention. At least someone still wants me around.
Making my way straight up to my room, I avoid the guys.
I stare at my phone, at the messages I’ve sent Tara:
Tink
Are you ok?
We need to talk
Come over?
Last night keeps replaying in my mind. The empty chair beside me.
I should’ve called her. Should’ve pushed. Instead, I let the night stretch out without her.
And now, sitting here staring at my phone, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve already lost something I never really had to begin with.
Every time someone asked where my “charming girlfriend” that they’d heard all about was, I had to make excuses. Food poisoning, I’d said, the lie tasting bitter. Mother’s smug smile grew with each passing hour, like she’d won something.
But I couldn’t care less about Mother’s games. What keeps me up at night is how Tara just... didn’t show. No genuine explanation, no warning. One minute she was there, fierce and bright and standing up to my entire family.
The next - gone. Something changed, but I have no idea what. I have no idea if she’s ok, if there’s something more going on.
The doorbell rings, and my stomach twists. Through the window, I see her shifting from foot to foot like she’d rather be anywhere else.
I could say it right now. Three words. Simple, easy.
Except nothing about her has ever been simple.
And nothing about this could ever be easy.
So I swallow the words, bury them deep, and pretend I never even thought them in the first place.
“So,” she says when I open the door, “you wanted to talk?”
“Yeah, I—”
“Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds!” Ethan calls from the couch, completely misreading the situation. “You two are getting good at this whole couple thing. Very convincing.”
“Ethan.” I warn, but he’s already pausing his game, grinning like he’s discovered buried treasure.
“No, seriously, the chemistry! The tension! Though speaking of tension...” He checks his phone with exaggerated casualness. “Might want to figure out exactly what story you’re telling before Troy gets back. You know, in about 72 hours.”
The color drains from Tara’s face. “What?”
“Yeah, he’s coming to surprise you for your birthday,” Ethan says, then freezes. “Which I probably shouldn’t have mentioned, but considering you two need to get your story straight...”
“It’s your birthday in three days?”
I knew it was sometime in the summer, but I didn’t know when. Tara won’t look at me, suddenly very interested in a loose thread on her sleeve. Her shoulders curl inward slightly, making her seem smaller than usual.
“It’s not a big deal,” she mutters.
“Not a big deal?” Ethan snorts. “Troy’s flying back from Camp Pinehaven. And Alex is planning this whole surprise thing, and Freddie’s—” He catches himself. “Well, other stuff I probably shouldn’t mention.”
My head snaps to Tara.
Her birthday? Why didn’t she tell me? This is another reminder that whatever I thought was happening between us clearly isn’t what I imagined.
“How did I not know this?”
“You never asked.” She shrugs, but there's something defeated in her posture. “Besides, we're just pretending, right? You don't need to know everything about me.”
The words slice right through me. Before I can respond, Ethan makes an exaggerated stretching motion.
“Well, this is super awkward. I’m gonna go.
.. anywhere else. But maybe sort out whatever’s going on here before Troy shows up?
Because this”—he gestures between us—“is giving off less ‘happy couple’ vibes and more ‘murder-suicide’ energy.”
Once he’s gone, the silence falls.
Silence with anybody else, I can handle. With Tara? It’s unnatural.
“Food poisoning?” I give in.
“What?”
“At the dinner. That’s what you’re going with?”
She crosses her arms. “It’s believable.”
“Right. Must have been something you ate before you even arrived.” I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “You know what’s not believable? Leaving me alone with my entire family without any real explanation.”
“I didn't realize you needed me there so badly,” she mutters. “I thought you Spencers were good at handling things on your own. Especially with the right kind of company.”
“Is that what this is about? My family?”
She finally meets my eyes, and there’s something raw there that makes me want to hold her. “We should focus on what we’re telling Troy.”
I pin my arms to my sides.
“Tara—”
“3 days, Alfie. We need a plan.”
I watch her pull out her phone, already making lists like nothing’s wrong.
“So, we tell Troy nothing happened,” Tara says, pacing the hallway. “we just did our community service, stayed away from each other, end of story.”
“Right. Because that’s totally believable.” I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “You really think he won’t notice—”
“Notice what?” She stops pacing to glare at me. “There’s nothing to notice. We pretended, it’s done. We can go back to being Troy’s sister and Troy’s best friend who tolerate each other.”
“Is that what you think this was? Pretending?”
“Wasn’t it?” But her voice wavers slightly. “You made it pretty clear this was all for show.”
“I made it clear?” I step closer, anger and want making my blood hot. “You’re the one who ran away from that dinner without a word. You’re the one acting like none of this meant anything.”
“Because it can’t mean anything!” She throws up her hands. “I mean it didn’t.”
“Upstairs. Now.” I gently grab hold of her wrist, ignoring Ethan’s wolf whistle as I lead her to my room. The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly the space feels too small.
“What happened?” I demand. “Things were fine and now—”
“I told you. Food poisoning.” She won’t look at me, arms crossed like armor.
“Bullshit.”
She flinches at my tone, but I’m too angry to care. I’ve spent days replaying everything in my head, her laugh in my lab, her fingers tracing my jawline, how she’d defend my research to anyone who’d listen. Was it all just... practice? Getting to know each other for show?
Maybe I imagined it all. Saw what I wanted to see because for once in my life, someone seemed to understand me. But that’s not what this was about. It was always meant to be temporary. Fake.
“Fine,” I say finally, a lump forming in my throat. “Troy arrives, we pretend we never pretended, and that’s that.”
“Fine.” Her voice is tight.
“We’ll finish our community service hours—”
“Separately. I’ll get a new buddy.”
“Right. Separately. And go back to—”
“Being nothing to each other.”
The words hang between us. She’s still not looking at me, but I can see her pulse racing at her throat.
“Nothing,” I repeat, stepping closer. “That’s what you want?”
“That’s what’s best.” But she doesn’t step back.
“I didn’t ask what was best.” Another step. “I asked if that was what you wanted. Because the way you kissed me didn’t feel like nothing.”
Her eyes snap to mine, dark with anger and something else. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Remind you how your hands felt in my hair? How you gasped my name?”
“Stop.” She shoves my chest, but I catch her wrists.
“Stop what? Telling the truth?” My voice drops lower. “Or reminding you how perfectly you fit against me?”
“You don’t get to do this.” But her breath catches as I step closer. “You don’t get to act like this means something when you’re the one who keeps reminding me it’s fake—”
“When I’m the one who what?” I’m close enough now to feel her shaking. “Say it.”
“When you’re just going to push me away again.” Her voice breaks slightly. “Like everyone else.”
“I’m not pushing.” My fingers flex on her wrists. “I’m right here.”
“Then why does this feel like goodbye?”
Instead of answering, I release one of her wrists to cup her face. Her eyes flutter closed at my touch. “Look at me, Tink.”
When she does, the raw emotion in her gaze nearly breaks me. “Make me believe it’s nothing,” I whisper. “Make me believe you don’t feel this too.”
“Make me believe it’s real.” she says.
I can’t.
I can’t say anything more than I have.
I am a coward who can’t give her what she wants but God I can’t let her walk away.
She kisses me like she’s trying to prove a point, all fury and demands. I respond with equal force, backing her against my door. Her hands fist in my shirt as my fingers dig into her hips.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says against my mouth.
Our kisses grow more heated, a clash of tongues and teeth as we pour our frustration into each other. I pin her wrists above her head, relishing her gasp.
“Is this what you want?” I growl against her neck. “To pretend this means nothing?”
She arches against me. “Shut up,” she says, but her body betrays her, pressing closer.
I trail bites down her throat, savoring each shiver. “Make me.”
Her leg hooks around my waist and she grinds against me. I groan, my grip on her wrists tightening.
“You make me insane,” I murmur, my teeth grazing her earlobe. “Stubborn. Impossible.”
“Look who’s talking,” she fires back.
I swallow any further argument with my mouth on hers, kissing her deep and slow until she melts against me.
A loud voice from downstairs shatters the moment.
“Glad to hear you guys are alive!” Ethan calls, amusement thick in his voice. “I’m leaving because these walls? Super thin.”