Page 60 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

She stopped.

He hadn’t planned on touching her tonight, but he reached across the table and caught her shaking fingers with his own. “Are you okay?”

Slowly, her laboured breaths calmed. “I’m fine. I’m just nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?”

“I’ve only really talked about this with my therapist.”

Nik took a deep breath and savoured the cool air that flooded his lungs. It helped with his anger, his worry, his fear—none of which would be useful to her now. “Okay. Well, let me make sure I understand. You were seeing someone.”

“Yes.”

“And he kidnapped your best friend.”

“Yes!”

“And did what to his hand?”

She shifted in her seat. “He had a gun. And there was, like, a police stand-off, but when he pulled the trigger, it kind of back-fired… The police said it was homemade, or something. Did you know you can make guns? I didn’t know that.”

Nik swallowed. “Was she okay?”

“Ah, well, she turned out to be pretty good in a crisis. She stabbed him. With a screwdriver. So, when he managed to fire the gun, she was kind of out of range, and then it sort of blew up, and he lost his hand, and she…” Aria’s hand fluttered up to the side of her face. “She’s got these scars. I suppose she’s okay, now. She seems fine.”

“And when was this?”

“Ummm… November.”

Nik’s throat went dry. Less than a year ago.

“So, you see,” she said, “I’m thinking that… well, that I might have overreacted a little bit. With you. Because I felt like every guy was hiding some dangerous side to their personality, and I was too desperate for affection to figure it out—”

“Aria, you didn’t overreact.” His grip on her hand tightened, as if he could push his words into her skin as well as telling her out loud. “Never think you overreacted. You felt how you felt, and you behaved accordingly. And if me lying hit you even harder because of your past… Well, I shouldn’t have lied at all. If I’d acted right, you wouldn’t have a reason to be upset. That’s my fault. It’s all my fault. Okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Okay.” And then, after a moment, a tentative smile lit up her face. “I mean, obviously it’s your fault. Everything’s your fault. Because you suck.”

“Definitely,” he agreed, his voice solemn.

“I mean, global warming, the bees—”

“Well, maybe not that stuff.”

“The deterioration of Topshop’s quality—”

“I don’t actually think—”

“Why are you arguing with me?” She grinned. “Aren’t you supposed to be winning me back?”

Nik froze. “Can I win you back?”

She gave a studied shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe if you tried really hard.”

“I’m prepared to try hard. The hardest.”

“And maybe if you explain what the fuck you thought you were doing, coming up with that bullshit plan.”

Nik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. Yes. I would love to explain that.”

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