Page 65 of Not That Into You

“Bullshit. Unless everything was an act last night?”

I shrug.

His eyes narrow before shaking his head. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And you’re an arrogant asshole.”

“At least I’m not a liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then you’re lying to yourself.”

I shake my head. “No, that is the one thing I’m not doing, Cameron. I’m not lying to myself about who you are or what this is.”

He walks farther into the room until he’s standing in front of me. “What about the kiss?”

I cross my arms. “What about it?”

Putting his hands on his hips, he cocks his head as my pulse quickens at the look in his eyes. “You can’t tell me that kiss was an act.”

“It was for show, Cameron. You know that.”

He leans in. “It might have started for show, but that’s not where it ended.”

I shrug. “The operative word being ‘ended.’” And then he rejected me. “Because this”—I motion between us—“is all fake.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

“I’m not even sure why we’re doing this anymore.”

He rears back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“The whole reason you brought me here, why we’re pretending to be together, is because you wanted to avoid Vanessa.” I raise my shoulders and let them drop. “It doesn’t seem as if you need me anymore.”

“There’s nothing going on between Vanessa and me.”

“Whatever. My point is you clearly don’t need me to run interference.”

He frowns.

“Maybe I should just go back to the city today. You can stay here and?—”

“No.”

“You don’t need me, Cameron.”

“Yes, I do. I need you to be my girlfriend, so my mother stays off my back.”

I throw up my hands. “Why? She wanted you to entertain Vanessa, and you’re doing that on your own without her even pressuring you. Once she sees you with Vanessa, she’ll be so happy she might actually crack a smile.”

His mouth flattens as he stares at me.

“It’s fine, Cameron. You do you. But I attended your father’s birthday party, as required, and now I think it makes sense for me to go home.”

Scowling, he looks down at the floor before huffing out a breath and then looking back up at me. “It’s not just my mother.”

“What?”

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