Page 60 of Hard to Fake

“You wouldn’t.” I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up.

His gaze flicks over me, his smug mouth lifting at the corner. “Careful, Princess. I will obliterate the competition for your fake heart.”

Before I can process the words, Nova comes up behind me.

“Hey, you. I’m the designated photographer for this evening.”

Miles looks between us, and for a second, I think he’s disappointed.

“I told Nova about our plan,” I supply.

“Right.” He shakes his head and hitches a thumb down the hall. “I had a place in mind.”

He leads the way out a side door and into the street. We walk a few blocks, blending in with the little bit of foot traffic remaining more than an hour after the game.

Nova’s smiling as she trails just behind, texting Clay to let him know she’ll meet him later to blow his grumpy dick or whatever they’re into.

We get to a restaurant, and he shows us up the side steps, waiting for Nova and me to go first. The door opens out onto a rooftop with fairy lights strewn all around.

“Pretend I’m not even here,” Nova says as she steps a few feet away, finding her favorite lighting.

“Right.” Miles rocks on his heels as if he’s on edge.

Unlikely. Nothing freaks this guy out.

“If we’re going to sell that we’re dating seriously, we should discuss things we'd know about one another,” he says.

“Such as?” I’m surprised he came this prepared, especially when he reaches into his pocket for a folded piece of paper.

“I have a list of questions.”

“You printed that out from the internet.”

“Yup. What’s your biggest dream?”

Click. The camera phone goes off. I’m aware of Nova moving around us.

“Pass.”

“You can’t pass on the first question.” He laughs.

“Sure I can. How many real couples know what the other person’s biggest dream is? What you truly want is like a big flashing light pointing to your motivations and your weaknesses.”

“Never thought about it like that.” He turns it over. “My dream is to play on the USA men’s basketball team.”

“Why?” His answer surprises me. “You don’t even get paid to do it.”

Click. Click.

“That’s exactly why. You’re playing for pride with the best guys in the country. You do it because you love it. It’s hard as hell to get a spot.”

Click. Click.

“You want to be the best, then.”

“Nah. I want to be good enough to play side by side with the best.”

“That’s the same thing.”

---