Page 50 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

“But,” Aria went on, “I need to go slow. For myself. I know you do everything instantly, and you’re always so sure—”

“Hey,” he cut in gently, bringing a hand to her cheek. “It’s okay. I didn’t say it to pressure you. I said it because it’s how I feel, and I want to be honest with you. I always want to be honest with you, agapi mou.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I really need to start learning Greek.”

“I’ll teach you.” He kissed her, his tongue gliding against hers before they pulled away. “‘Agapi mou’,” he murmured, “means ‘my love’.”

She smiled. “How do you say, ‘my hot piece of—’”

Nik covered her lips with his again—only it was more of an awkwardly perfect laughing-into-each-other’s-mouths moment. Then she climbed on top of him and deepened the kiss with a blunt certainty that set him alight. This fucking woman.

“Wait,” he panted, pulling away.

Why was he pulling away? He wasn’t sure. His cock, especially, wanted an answer, because it had been ready to try for another round already. What a soldier.

Oh, yeah; that was it. They couldn’t have sex yet, because he wasn’t finished.

“I need to tell you something else,” he said. “Actually, it’s kind of a confession.”

A slight frown furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Well… like I said, I think I fell in love with you the night we met.”

She nodded slowly. Was he imagining things, or did she seem slightly tense in his arms, suddenly? He wasn’t sure. He was probably just nervous, so he’d better spit this out.

“I knew I was having strong feelings, but I was hesitant, I suppose, to label it? I just knew I wanted you. I really wanted you. In bed, yes, but… like this. Like it is now. So, the next morning I went to find you, but you didn’t seem open to dating.”

“Okay…”

“And then you brought up the—you know, the human shield thing. That whole, ah, concept.” Nik’s heart, for some reason, was pounding. And not in a good way. He wasn’t used to being nervous about anything other than football. Fuck, after all these years, he didn’t even get that anxious before a match; because he was confident, because he trusted himself, because he took things as they came.

But he wasn’t confident about this, and he couldn’t just take whatever outcome the universe threw at him. There was only one ending to this conversation that he could cope with: Aria deciding that, even though he was a complete prat, she didn’t really mind. Or, at least, didn’t mind enough to, say…

Leave him. Forever.

Christ, why had that possibility only just occurred to him? Now, when he was teetering on the precipice of confession?

“Well, I saw an opportunity,” he said, “so I took it.”

She stared. And stared some more. And Nik became uncomfortably aware that he should say a hell of a lot more than that—that he should explain fully, explicitly, and that he should apologise. Except he wasn’t even sure if he was sorry.

Yes, I lied to you and brought you here on false pretences, but since you’ll be able to start your tattoo shop now, and since the whole plan worked and we’re together, and since I love you to fucking distraction, I really don’t regret it. I feel bad about it, but I don’t regret it.

Did that count as an apology? Nik wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to make one.

Finally, Aria spoke. But the words were narrow, almost shrunken, her lips barely moving.

“Are you saying that… that you didn’t need…” She stopped, sucked in a breath as if steadying herself. And Nik’s heart, which had been warm and soft and melting like ice cream, began to cool into something cold and tough.

Finally, she said, “You didn’t need a fake girlfriend.” She spat out those last two words as if they were a curse, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Of course, you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. Stupid, Aria, fucking stupid—”

“Love—”

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, her eyes flying open to reveal a look he’d never seen before. Not from her, anyway. Never from her. She scrambled out of his lap and off the bed, her face hard. “You made it up. You made it all up just to get me out here and… what, seduce me?”

“Well,” he allowed, “when you put it like that, it sounds pretty—”

“Dangerous,” she said, the word passing her lips like a ghost. “It sounds dangerous. You’re…”

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