Page 20 of Campus Fake

I tilted my head slightly, just enough to look at him without moving too much. He was still asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. His dark lashes fanned against his cheekbones, and his black hair was slightly mussed. He was still fully dressed, and I noticed smudged mascara on his shirt, probably from yesterday when I’d cried all over him like a complete disaster of a human being.

But that little blemish on his shirt didn’t at all detract from how handsome he was. I’d always thought so, from the moment we’d met at that music festival when I’d decided to call him Harry just to see if I could get a reaction out of the stoic hockey goalie with mysterious eyes.

Most guys were easy to read—their intentions written all over their faces and their desires predictable and boring. But Harry had been different. Quiet. Watchful. Like he saw everything and said nothing, filing it all away behind those gray eyes.

I’d been drawn to him immediately. To his quiet strength and the way he didn’t try to fill silence with meaningless words. Loyalty ran through him like bedrock—solid and unwavering and so goddamn attractive it made my heart race. Living with him had been delicious torture because I knew I could never have him.

If I believed I deserved love after what I’d done, I’d let myself fall for him completely.

It would be so easy. Too easy.

I’d been doing it a little since we met, if I was being honest with myself. It got harder to deny my feelings every time he showed up without being asked. Every time he noticed something was wrong before I said a word. Every time he looked at me like he could see past all my bullshit to the mess underneath—and didn’t run.

But here, in this house full of memories, grief, and the weight of everything I’d destroyed, I was reminded exactly why I couldn’t let my guard down.

I’d been trying to atone for my sins for five years. Five years of being the friend everyone could count on. Five years of making sure Abby never felt alone after her mom died. Five years of being the life of the party, the shoulder to cry on, the girl who had her shit together even when the world was falling apart.

But it would never be enough. I was starting to accept that it would never be possible to forgive myself for what I’d done.

Some sins were too big for absolution.

Harry stirred beneath me, and his breathing changed. His hand, which had been resting on my hip, started trailing slowly up and down my back. Lazy and gentle. Like he wasn’t fully awake yet but still wanted to touch me.

God, his touch was addicting. I was going to miss it when we went back to Montana and went back to being just friends.

“How’d you sleep?” His voice was gravelly and warm, and my body reacted the way it always did around him. My nipples tightened, heat pooled low in my belly, and that familiar ache between my thighs flared to life. I’d been trying to ignore the way his voice brought my body to life since I moved in with him. I was usually excellent at ignoring things I wanted. I’d had years of practice. But being this close to him was making it next to impossible.

“Really good, actually.” I tilted my head back to look at him properly. His gray eyes were heavy-lidded, still soft with sleep, and there was a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You make a good pillow.”

He laughed—low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against my body. It only made the heat worse. Made me want to press closer instead of pulling away. It made me want to trace my fingers along that strong jaw of his and see what other sounds I could pull from him.

Down, girl.

This was Harry. My fake boyfriend. My friend. But most importantly, the guy who’d dropped everything to fly home with me because I was too much of a coward to face my family alone.

He wasn’t mine to want. And even if he was, I didn’t get to have him. Not with what I’d done. Not with who I really was underneath all the confidence and curves and carefully constructed armor.

But God, it was harder to fight the attraction when he was this close. When I could feel every breath he took. When his hand was still moving up and down my spine in a rhythm that was making my brain short-circuit.

We’d never been like this before. Sure, there had been moments—loaded glances, accidental touches that lingered slightly too long, the way he always seemed to know exactly where I was in a room. But we’d never snuggled. Never woken up tangled together like this was something we did all the time.

I liked it. More than I should.

I’d never felt this safe with a man before. Not even close.

“Ready to face your family again?”

The question was like being doused with a bucket of ice water, drowning all that pleasant heat in an instant. I groaned and buried my face in his chest, hiding from the reality waiting outside this room.

“No,” I mumbled against his shirt. “Can we just stay here forever? We can survive on whatever snacks are in my old desk drawers. I think there might be some ancient Halloween candy in there somewhere.”

His chest shook with silent laughter. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of my head—soft and sweet and so tender it made my eyes sting.

I squeezed them shut, refusing to let the tears fall. I’d cried enough yesterday. I wasn’t going to start the day the same way.

“I’ll be right by your side,” he said quietly. “Whatever happens today, you’re not alone.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.