Page 42 of Sour Notes

I need answers.

“Why not tell them you’re seeing someone? I haven’t seen you since you left for your date on Saturday, so clearly he’s doing something right. Why drag me into your bullshit?”

My blood burns at even the mention of that guy, hands flexing on the counter, desperate to rip him apart for even looking at her.

This is so fucked.

I get to be the fake boyfriend, stealing the occasional kiss for show in front of our family, while she’s off fucking some other guy’s brains out.

When she’s giving him what should be mine.

How am I supposed to be okay with that?

I can’t fake anything with her when what I feel for her is as real as breathing.

She shakes her head, her eyes going impossibly wide. “I’m not seeing anyone else, Swayze. The date on Saturday was a disaster. I left after an hour and hung out with Haven. I’ve been there all week because Axel’s been working overnight shifts.”

Instantly my muscles unlock, and I slump against the counter, my head spinning. The tension I’ve been carrying all week leaves my body in a rush with my next breath.

There’s no one else.

Thank fuck, there’s no one else.

She takes a step closer, leaving inches between us, flooding my senses with her sweet floral scent again.

“I really am sorry I sprung it on you that way. But do you think maybe you’d consider doing it? For real?”

Wait.

My whole body freezes while I stare at her, processing what she just said.

For real? As in, really date her?

As in… she’d be mine?

Fuck yes, I’d date her for real in a fucking heartbeat.

“You wouldn’t have to do much. We could just agree to a truce for now. It shouldn’t be too hard if we can go back to how we used to be and just fake it in front of our family until the wedding’s over. And then, when we get home, we say we realized we’re better off as friends. No harm, no foul.” She talks with her hands, animating the words currently slashing my dreams into nothing.

Christ, a kick in the balls would’ve hurt less, but she continues, totally oblivious.

“We can figure out rules to make sure we’re both on the same page, but it’ll stop our family from meddling trying to set us up with dates for the big day. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. We know each other better than we know ourselves, right? What could possibly go wrong?”

What could possibly go wrong? It would be safer to toss myself in a cell with a certified serial killer than to do this.

Her eyes burn a hole through me as she stares at me pleadingly, waiting for an answer.

You know that tension that whooshed out of me earlier? Well, it’s back, and it’s brought friends. My eyes flicker, the early signs of a migraine creeping on.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Mia, I don’t⁠—”

Her hands fly to my bare chest, scorching me with her warm touch.

“Please, Swayze. Please do this for me. I swear I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. Don’t make me beg.”

My resolve cracks like thin ice under the weight of her puppy dog eyes. Her face is so open and earnest.