Page 47 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

She’s not wrong. In my mind I’ve been focused on her, but I can’t deny the truth in her words.

She tosses the blanket toward me and gets out of bed. “I need to shower and get to work. I’m already late.”

I grab her arm. “Gemma—”

She pulls away. “I like you. I really do, but my boyfriend when I was in law school was a bullshitter. He was theI see a future with youguy while he was sleeping with someone else. I agree, we’re both too old for games. I’m not the one playing them. Our entire relationship has been a fake one. You’ve been fakingeverything. It’s some weird variation on the fake dating trope I use in my books.”

“I’m not faking my feelings. Everything I said to you yesterday was honest. I want to be with you. Whatever it takes.”

“Actions speak louder than words. I want to build things the right way, slowly, based on trust and honesty, not inviteyou to my grandmother’s house for Christmas before we’ve even gone on a real date.”

Now definitely isn’t the best time to tell her I’m not a plumber and I don’t even live in Philadelphia.

“Fine. When can I take you out on a date?”

“I’ve got a busy week at work. I’m sure you’re busy too. How about this weekend? Saturday night?”

My shoulders fall. “That’s, like, four days from now. Why not Friday?”

“I have plans with my friends Val and CJ on Friday.”

I sigh.

She lifts her eyebrows. “Yes or no for Saturday?”

I furrow my brow. “You’re standing there naked. I can’t focus.”

She grabs my shirt from the floor and slings it around her body.

“Now you’re standing in my shirt. It’s so hot.”

She blows out a breath and crosses her arms. She’s so damn cute when she pouts.

With a protruding lip that matches hers, I mumble, “Fine. Four days.”

I’m in the Cougars’batting cages practicing with Cheetah and Layton. Cheetah is sitting with me while Layton is swinging at pitches. “How’s it going with Tami Maida?”

Layton stops and wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “He didn’t come home last night. I’m guessing it’s goingverywell.”

I shake my head. “I’m not talking about that stuff with you guys. She’s going to be my wife and the mother of my children. Off-limits.”

Cheetah makes a puking noise. “Ahh. Tone it down, dude. You’re treading into dangerous over-possessive stalker-trope territory. Tami won’t like you if you act all crazy. Isn’t shesupposed to be training you to be a good book boyfriend? This isn’t book-boyfriend behavior. This is psycho behavior, though I suppose some women get off on that too.”

“I know who I want and I’m going after her. It’s hard to put into words what it feels like. I know in my gut that she’s the one for me. And her name is Gemma, not Tami. It’s going well. She knows I was a fake client and that I’m interested in her.”

“Does she know you’re a fake plumber?”

I lean my head back in despair. “No. I was going to tell her this morning, but we got interrupted. She’s very hung up on the fact that I lied to her about being a client. I wimped out on telling her the rest. I’m not sure she can handle it yet.”

He slaps his forehead. “This is such a classic romance novel story barreling headfirst toward a third-act breakup because you didn’t tell her the truth of your identity.”

“What the fuck is a third-act breakup?”

“Romance novels are split into three acts. The first act has them meeting or re-meeting. There’s attraction plus a bunch of drama and a general foundation to the story. Sometimes there’s a misunderstanding or some other obstacle in their way. It’s usually exciting and builds up anticipation. The second act has a ton of sex. Whatever has been building between the lead characters explodes. Things are good. Authors drop hints that some other shit might go down, but us romance readers are optimistic. We pray it’s all a red herring and that nothing bad happens. Unfortunately, italwaysdoes. You can’t be happy for two straight acts. That goes against romance novel formulas. Then we get to the third act. Some big fucking dramatic event happens. In most books, they break up because of it. Not all, but most. Sometimes they face obstacles together. I enjoy that change of pace from time to time. But usually, they break up.”

I run my fingers through my hair, feeling panicked. “Fuck. I don’t want to break up. They always get back together, right?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. Sometimes it’s heartbreakingand painful. I’ve read a few that don’t have happily ever afters. I’m in bed for days, crying my eyes out when I read those.”

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