Page 39 of Don't Go Faking My Heart
The lips pull the sensation from my limbs and body and shift it all to the nerve endings in my cheek. In an instant, those nerve endings have developed a preternatural ability to sense every graze and every stir of breath.
Wowza.
"What was that for?" I ask breathlessly.
Instead of answering me, he grabs my hand and tugs me to my feet. I hear a few gasps in the diner as Rusty wraps his arms around me, holding me close. And because I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs, I put my arms around his waist and get close.
Rusty's nose touches my cheek as he whispers into my hair, "Philip is still in town and showed up at the Canasta club with a sob story about trying to get you back," he says while we sway in a full body embrace that has everyone in the diner staring at us. "The whole town will find out about us any second now, and I don't know what you want me to do?—"
"Kiss me."
Rusty spins me into a dip, and his face nears mine. With his bright hazel eyes dancing, he touches his lips softly to mine in a sweet, light kiss.
The kind your kindergarten boyfriend gives you. In kindergarten.
I smirk, and the movement makes his lips bump into my teeth. "Is that it?"
"I'm trying to be respectful," he says, and he's smiling, too, and that only makes me smile more now we're just teeth bumping into teeth.
"This weak little peck isn't going to sell anything," I say. I plunge my hand into his hair, knocking his hat off, and I fuse our mouths together for a kiss hot enough to melt the polar ice caps.
Oh. My. Lanta.
I'm kissing Rusty.
Rusty is kissing me.
Is it supposed to be this fun? The only other guy I ever kissed enough to judge was Philip, and it always felt like he was taking something from me. My pride, my will. He was so demanding. Even during those first few months where he was on his best behavior, I felt so lucky! Like I was trading in my quirky card to finally be accepted by some imaginary in-crowd.
This is nothing like that.
This is delightful.
Delicious.
This is a shot of Red Bull, giving me wings.
This is …
Fake.
Everyone in the diner is cheering as Rusty pulls me back up. Someone tosses Rusty's hat back, and he uses it to cover his face while I bury mine in his neck. Rusty laughs, and I try to.
No, not try. I do. Rusty isn't playing me. This isn't a game, but it can be fun. It should be, dang it! That kiss was dynamite! I refuse to worry that Rusty is somehow rejecting me by fake dating me. He's doing it to help me. To protect me from another Philip fallout.
He's fake dating me because he cares so much about me.
Why wouldn't I appreciate that?
"I'm sorry," Rusty says into his hat with endearing uncertainty.
"Uh, no," I say. "You don't apologize after kissing someone like that. You say 'you're welcome.'"
He drops his hat as people surround us. "Are you thankin' me?"
I laugh.
"Could y'all stop flirtin' already and tell us what in the world this is?" Tia gestures to us. "When did this happen?"
