Page 70 of The Guy Who Fake Dated Me

“Where exactly are you going to put it?” I gave her the once over, which got me another blush.

“Secret inside pocket.”

“Seriously?”

“Where do you think my phone is? Having extra curves has quite a few advantages.”

I took a deep breath and vowed that I wouldn’t look for the hidden pocket. Not tonight anyway.

“But really, what does she want to talk to you about?” Victoria asked as we watched the siblings take up a spot on the far side of the room.

“I have no idea. I’m actually a little nervous.”

“Because she hurt you?” Victoria asked softly.

“That’s an understatement.” Courtney was the reason I hadn’t dated seriously since college. None of the women in Big Bear felt sincere in their attraction, and trusting outsiders had died when Courtney had walked away from me.

Until Victoria.

She squeezed my arm. “Well, if you need a rescue let me know.”

“How?” I asked.

“Just give me a wink.” She demonstrated and I found out that the butterflies in my stomach were alive and well.

“Got it.”

We spent the next twenty minutes commenting on dresses, masks, partners, and even the music. She laughed at the dumb things I said, and I did the same for her. Rachel and I were close, but I’d never been quite this open with even her.

Victoria was my person, and I was determined to tell her. Tonight. I was pretty sure she had feelings for me. Once we cleared the air about that, we’d have to figure out how things would work from now on.

Long distance wasn’t ideal, but I’d be willing to do it for her.

I’d do pretty much anything for her.

Except leave Big Bear?

I gently nudged that thought aside and pretended it hadn’t materialized.

Could I move away from everything and everyone I’d ever known?

Yes.

Did I want to?

No.

Would I do it for Victoria?

The jury was still out.

When Natalie finally arrived, wearing a dress that looked like it was dripping with diamonds—to match Kyle—we all clapped and cheered before he led her onto the dance floor. We all watched them for one song, then joined in.

“I’ve been practicing the waltz and the foxtrot,” Victoria informed me.

“Oh yeah?” I led her forward, twirled her, then moved my free hand to the back of her shoulder, and met her gaze. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Shane, Rachel, and I had perfected this over one very long winter. Victoria had started catching on the other times we’d danced. Within the first few steps, I could tell that she had indeed been practicing. Her dress brushed against my legs and her body stayed with mine. After a minute of the normal slow-slow, quick-quick step, I asked, “You ready for a turn?”

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