Page 35 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

For God’s sake. Was that all it took her get her going, now?

“Things have changed between us since we met,” he said, looking up at her. His eyes were like honey in the sunlight streaming through the window, golden-brown and sticky-sweet enough to trap her. “So, if you liked me then, how do you feel now?”

Aria bit her lip. Something was dragging her gaze, like a magnet, toward the place at the foot of the bed where he’d bent her over—but she wouldn’t give in to that pull. Because if she did, he’d see, and he’d know exactly what she was thinking.

Instead, she said honestly, “I really like you now.”

“So, once this is over,” he said, “and you go home to start the best tattoo shop in Europe—”

She laughed, and his teasing smile widened.

“In the world, actually,” he corrected. “Once that happens… you won’t be done with me.” It didn’t sound like a question, the way he said it. And that cocky grin on his face, that solid confidence in his tone, didn’t suggest any kind of uncertainty.

But she must not be fully recovered from last night, because she imagined she saw uncertainty anyway. Imagined she heard it. Imagined she felt it. “Are you asking if we’re friends? Real friends?”

“Yeah,” he said softly.

Aria ran her tongue over her lip ring. “I’d like us to be. I don’t want to never see you again.” Actually, just the thought made her feel sick. Or maybe that was the chocolate bagel she was currently scarfing down? Must be. Still, the prospect of him disappearing was… unpleasant.

“I feel the same way,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Do you want to hear a funny story?”

She chuckled nervously at the abrupt change in subject. “Um… okay?”

“A few years back, I met this girl—French girl. I don’t speak French. But she was a huge Colston City fan, so she sat on my lap at a party and…” He shrugged. “You know. At this point, I was living with Kieran. So, the next morning, she leaves my room to get a drink. Half an hour passes, and she’s nowhere to be found. I get up, go looking for her… and she’s still in the kitchen, talking to Kieran. He speaks French. Anyway, I knew he was going to be precious about it, so I pulled him aside and told him he should ask her out. He refused, because of some weird friendship code, so I asked her out for him. And—”

“Is this your weird way of telling me you slept with Laurie?” Aria interrupted.

He flashed her a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Yes, it is.”

She chewed on the last bite of her bagel, then snatched the other half from his grip. He’d barely eaten it, anyway. “Okay.”

Was that relief on his face? Maybe, but it was quickly replaced by grim determination. “Here’s another funny story.”

“Oh, Christ.” Despite herself, Aria felt a grin creep onto her face. “Go on, then.”

“So, you know Varo’s my best friend, right? And he fell in love with G at first sight. They’re a forever kind of thing. But Georgia’s into threesomes, and—”

“You cannot be serious right now.”

He spoke faster, ignoring her spluttering. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was nervous. “Georgia’s into threesomes and Varo is too, but he’s protective. Plus, he’s not out. In fact, I think he considers himself straight. Which means they can’t just fuck anyone—”

“So, you, being the best friend on earth, volunteered as tribute?”

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s literally it. That’s all. I like them, they like me, sometimes we fuck.”

Through the haze of her shock and amusement—and, yeah, jealousy—Aria realised that Nik had lost his usual grin. His words sounded kind of… edgy? Urgent. As if it was important that she believe him, that she understand.

She felt something light and airy surround her heart, even as a slow smile spread over her face. “Nik why are you telling me this?”

He blinked up at her as if the answer was obvious. “Well. I thought you’d like to know. Because…”

When that word trailed off, a thousand potential endings to his sentence filled her mind. All things considered, one seemed more likely than others.

“Because you’re trying to get in my pants,” she said. “For real.”

“I already got in your pants. Wait, sorry—is that disrespectful? I’m just saying. I mean, I’m just pointing out the fact that I—”

She peered at him closely as he actually stammered. Nik Christou was lying beside her, cheeks flushed, fumbling for words as if he were a normal human being instead of a millionaire pro football player who could cosplay Adonis with nothing but a gold laurel.

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