Page 104 of The Problem with Dating

“Goodbye, Ave!” I shouted, snickering to myself, because I knew she was telling the truth. One of Avery’s favorite pastimes was outlifting men.

The second she was out of sight, Alex shook off his whole body. “She sure knows how to make a man nervous.”

“She’d be happy to know that fact.”

“Is your other sister as intimidating as her?” he asked.

“Oh no, but she might try to get you to eat bugs or something weird. Or join a cult. It’s a tossup with her.”

“Why do I get the feeling that the Kingsley sisters are a handful?”

“We are complex characters, to say the least.” I held my picnic basket in the air. “Are you ready to pick me?”

“I was made for this moment. Shall we?” he asked, holding his hand out toward me. “I figured if we walked into the festival holding hands, it might add some drama.”

My mind went into a frenzy as I held his hand. His touch had a way of warming my whole body as the cool air of September rippled across my skin. I missed that. I missed holding someone’s hand. I couldn’t even remember the last time I held someone’s hand. Cole never liked to hold hands or display any kind of PDA at all. I was fine with it, mainly because I was fine with anything he did. It was his way or the highway, and I lost so many things about me that I actually enjoyed.

Like holding hands.

I liked that feeling.

No.

Ilovedthat feeling.

I loved the feeling of being connected to someone, as if I didn’t know where my touch began and where his ended. As if we were one connection, moving in sync.

Before we started to walk, Alex released his hold so he could move to the other side of me, took the basket out of my grip, and then he took my hand once more. He was making sure I walked on the inside of the sidewalk.

And at that moment, before the noise of the festival filled my ears, I quietly, gently, unapologetically began to fall for the man who was only supposed to be pretend.

Pretend.

Wait.

What if he was just pretending? What if his actions weren’t his own, but just a script he’d developed in his head to make this arrangement of ours seem real to everyone else around us?

Stop falling, heart, I ordered to myself.This isn’t real.

The Prince Charming I made Alex out to be was exactly that—a fairy tale. A made-up story filled with fables. Still, a part of me that wondered what it would be like if it were real. Would his touch still heat me the way it had? Would he still want to hold my hand? Would he bid on my basket, even if I didn’t request him to do so?

Yes, he would, my heart told me.

Stupid heart and how it felt.

Beautiful heart and how it felt.

“Goldie,” Alex whispered, burying himself closer to me the more we approached to the crowd. So close that if I moved an inch closer, our chests would be brushing. His proximity to me felt wrong in the most righteous of ways.

“Yes?” I breathed out, almost forgetting that we were in public.

His mouth brushed against my cheek, and he kissed it gently, allowing his lips to linger against my skin. The feel of his lips sent my whole world into a tailspin of emotions. His kiss was so soft, so intimate, that I almost turned my head slightly to place my mouth against his.

“This will be easy,” he softly spoke, his voice deep and authoritative as his mouth moved to the edge of my ear. “If he regrets losing you already, I swear to you, he’ll regret losing you forever after the way he sees me worship you,” Alex whispered, his mouth now sitting at the edge of my earlobe, which he gently kissed and sucked before pulling away.

I froze in place, my mind flipping upside down as my body tried to decipher the words that fell from Alex’s lips. I mentally tried to unpack the sucking of the earlobe.

We were fake. There was no getting around that, but that moment? The tenderness he’d delivered to me? That felt real. It had to be real. It had to be—

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