Page 41 of Faking the Face Off

Her laughter follows me to the door, and as I grab the bags from the delivery guy, I find myself smiling. Maybe this isn’t just a leap for her. Maybe it’s one for me, too.

I set Dixon’s food on the table near the edge, knowing he’ll grab it whenever he resurfaces, then bring the rest to the couch where Anna sits and I join her. The aroma of spices and grilled meat fills the room, making my stomach growl.

Anna picks up her container, opens it, and digs into her burrito. She’s careful not to spill its contents, and I do the same, taking a huge bite. The flavors hit just right—savory, spicy, a little smoky. She sighs happily, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, and I can’t help but smile at the sound.

“This,” she says, gesturing with her food, “was an excellent choice. Thank you for knowing me so well.”

I chuckle. “It’s not exactly rocket science. Mexican food is your love language.”

She laughs, and I swear it’s one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard.

A minute later, I notice a streak of sauce on her cheek. “Hold still,” I say, leaning in to wipe it off with my thumb.

Her eyes meet mine as I pull my hand away, and for a second, the air between us feels charged. I can’t help but glance at her lips—soft, inviting, so close.

My heart thuds in my chest as the moment stretches, a heat rising in my chest.I want to kiss her.But I hold back, torn between what I want and what I think is right.

I pull back slightly, but then her hand grazes mine as she reaches for a napkin. The simple touch sends a sensation up my arm, like a spark igniting something deep inside me. My pulse jumps, and the want crashes back in, stronger than before.

I clench my jaw, trying to rein it in. I’m not going to jump her like some impulsive idiot. I want this to mean something.Haven’t we already built enough? We’ve been friends forever—surely that counts for something.

But it doesn’t matter what I think; it matters what she thinks. Her father. Her job. Her life. I need her to know I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to complicate all of that just because I can’t keep my head straight around her.

Then she moves, leaning slightly toward me, her gaze flicking to my mouth, and my breath catches. The silence around us is suddenly loud, a pounding begins in my ears. It could be my heart. She’s about to?—

“Smells good in here!” Dixon’s voice booms from behind us, and Anna jerks back, her cheeks flushing as she catches her container which almost goes flying across the room.

I blow out a breath, scrubbing a hand over my face as I turn to glare at my roommate. Dixon strolls into the room, hair still damp from his shower, completely oblivious.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, plucking his food off the table with a grin. “Carry on.”

Anna laughs nervously, and I shake my head, shooting him a look that saysthanks for nothing. He winks at me, then heads toward his room with his food.

When I glance back at Anna, she’s avoiding my eyes, focusing way too hard on her burrito. I pick up my taco, biting back a laugh. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

I take another bite of my taco, trying to act casual, but the tension from earlier still lingers. I can’t help but glance at Anna, her lips now stained with sauce from the burrito, and I fight the urge to wipe it off again. Instead, I just look at her and smile.

“You know, I’m kind of trying to impress you,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. It sounds casual enough, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in my voice that makes me cringe internally.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

I chuckle, shrugging it off. “Yeah, well, you’re a pretty tough critic, so I’m doing my best here.”

She smiles, her gaze softening in a way that makes my stomach flutter. “Well, I’m impressed,” she says, her tone teasing. “I’mveryimpressed.”

I laugh, leaning back a little in my seat. “Well, I’ll take that as a win.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before she glances down at her phone, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen.

“I’m taking Ben’s kids to mini-golf tomorrow afternoon,” she says, not looking up. “Wanna come?”

I blink, caught off guard by the offer. It’s casual, but it feels like a lot more than just an invitation to hang out.

“I can’t,” I answer, biting my lip as I try to think of something that doesn’t sound like an excuse…I rarely have plans that don’t include hockey, but tomorrow I do. “I’ve got plans, actually.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Plans?” she asks, her voice lifting with curiosity.

I smile sheepishly. “Yeah, I volunteer every few weeks with Gambler’s Anonymous.”

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