Page 61 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

“Well, go on.” She cocked her head mockingly, a little smile playing about her lips. But she hadn’t pulled her hand from his. She was holding on to him.

Please, don’t let go.

“First, I want to apologise for not apologising enough at the time. I don’t think I took it as seriously as I should have. I didn’t expect you to be that upset, because, honestly, I was thoughtless. I saw it all from my own perspective. I knew I didn’t want to hurt you, I knew I loved you, I knew my intentions—but you didn’t. So, I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “Right. And, um… What were your intentions?”

The fact that she even cared had him ready to pass out in relief. Because intentions didn’t matter half as much as actual, concrete results, and the results of his actions had been hurting her. Yet she was giving him the chance to tell her all of this, anyway.

“I love you,” he said. “Do you mind me saying that?”

She smiled. “You can continue. If you must.”

“Sometimes it just kind of comes out.”

“I am extremely loveable, so I understand.”

He grinned. “Of course, you do. Well, as far as intentions go—I thought you’d get to know me, and then you’d be more open to seeing me again. I hoped that maybe we’d be friends. And I wanted to be around you, because I had this—this need, like I couldn’t let you out of my sight before I knew more about you. Only, I never knew enough about you. I found out how you sleep and wondered what you eat when you’re sick. You told me a story about your past and I wanted to see all your baby pictures. I want every part of you. And I’ve never felt like that before, so I fucked up. But if you let me, I’d really love to never, ever fuck up again.”

A slow smile spread over her face throughout his speech, as steady and warm as the hope swelling in his heart. Still, she arched a brow and murmured, “I’m pretty sure you’ll fuck up again. Humans do that.”

“True,” he admitted. “But I’ll never lie to you. I’ll never hide anything from you. I’ll never put myself before you.”

Her smile widened into a grin. “That sounds okay.”

“It does?”

“It does.”

“So…”

“So,” she said, her eyes lighting up as dessert arrived. “This is our first date.”

Which was when Nik realised that, all this time, there’d been an entire level of happiness he’d never reached before. And now here he was, on top of the world, feeling it.

Because of her.

* * *

“Now,” Nik began as they wandered down the moonlit street. “How are you getting home?”

Aria swung her little handbag and tried, fruitlessly, to calm her grin. She was just so full of joy, she might burst. Like a balloon. A happy, happy balloon. “I don’t know. Bus, maybe.”

He looked up sharply, clearly appalled. Even horrified, he was handsome as fuck. She’d spent the whole meal half-mesmerised by his gorgeous bloody face. The rest of her attention had been taken up by the yearning in his eyes when he looked at her, the tenderness in his voice when they spoke, the way he ran those big, capable hands through his hair as he considered his words.

She’d wondered, during their time apart, if she’d imagined how things were between them. If she’d seen him through the veil of a holiday romance, falling for a man she’d half-imagined instead of the man who actually existed. But tonight had cemented what she’d already figured out over the past couple of weeks: she adored him. She more than adored him. He was everything she’d never thought to want. She didn’t have to bend and twist the idea of him to make them fit; she didn’t have to hide anything about herself or fabricate new parts for them to work.

They just were. And it was so natural, she couldn’t stop it even if she’d tried.

“Let me take you home,” he frowned. He seemed genuinely concerned by the idea of her taking the bus. Bless.

But, as Aria prepared to refuse, something hit her like a bolt of lightning: She could say yes.

Her lips would allow her to say yes, if she wanted. She wouldn’t stand frozen, terrified by the idea of giving him her address. She wouldn’t hesitate as she got into his car, thinking of the man who’d tied her friend up in the back of his van.

She could say yes.

And the thought was so freeing, so impossibly wonderful, that she did it. She said, “Okay.” Once that word was out, she said more, unable to stop herself. “I love you, Nik. You’re going to be so fucking smug about it, but I do.”

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