Page 51 of The Fake Dating War

This isn’t him, I remind myself. Not really. He doesn’t like me. We aren’t together.

He notices my empty hands.

“You didn’t buy it?”

He’s talking about the lingerie.

“No.Purple isn’t my color.”

29

JAKE

Something must be wrong with me.

It’s harder than it’s ever been before.

Not that I would normally complain, but it’sPatel.

She’s assured me the lingerie portion of this bridesmaid experience is over, thank fuck. I tell myself it can’t get worse than that. It can’t. Looking at her in that purple piece had my cock close to busting in my pants, which would be a first for me. Not even as a teenager have I lost control like that. But today—Patel’s curves?—

I’m not okay. I’m having regrets. I should leave. This is trouble.

Stop.You need to forget you saw her like that. Now.

At least her sister’s schedule moves quickly.

Lunch is at a pizza joint.

Before we can go in, Patel threads her fingers with mine. The touch bolts through me. I have to grit my teeth. As if she notices and is afraid I’ll jerk away, the press of her nails dig into my skin.

“Give us a moment,” she tells the group. “We’ll meet you inside.”

“Don’t take too long,” her sister says, touching her stomach.

As soon as we’re alone, she takes back her hand.

She had a nice grip, I hate to admit. It wasn’t soft but strong, as if it wouldn’t let you down. And what does that have to do with anything?

“Did you read the email I sent you last night?” she asks, eying me down. “About me.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And I’ll be sure to bring up your peanut butter allergy in my conversations with your family. That should convince them we’re soulmates.”

“And I’ll mention you biked Death Road in Bolivia, though why you’d go on a road with death in its name is beyond me. What made you thinkthatwas a good idea?”

My shoulders tense. When I sent her that list of facts, I didn’t expect her to ask questions about it. “My dad took me.”

“Your dad is an adrenaline junkie?”

“Was.”

She blinks.

“He died.”

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