Page 38 of The Misfit

One reason to say no: He’s gay? There’s an actual question mark in my brain right now.

Two reasons to say yes: We need this to be convincing.

Three seconds to decide: “Okay.”

His eyes darken. “Okay?”

“But—” I hold up a finger. “You have to sanitize your hands first.”

His laugh is surprised and genuine. “Already did, Pantry Girl. Three times.”

Of course he did.Lee Sterling is going to destroy me.

“Ground rules,” I manage, trying to focus as Lee reaches for the sanitizer again anyway. One, two, three pumps into his palm. “We need to establish boundaries.”

“Like sanitizing before touching?” His eyes sparkle as he rubs his hands together thoroughly. “Already planned on it.”

“And no tongue,” I blurt out, my cheeks heating. “I mean … that’s not … I can’t?—”

“Rule number one.” He cuts in, his voice firm but gentle. “I’ll always listen when you say stop, but you have to let me push your boundaries sometimes. You’ll never learn to function in society if you stay in your bubble of safety forever.”

The protest dies in my throat when I see the understanding in his eyes. He’s right. I hate that he’s right.

“Fine,” I whisper. “But not … not all at once.”

“Baby steps,” he agrees, and something warm unfurls in my chest at the way he says it. “Rule number two?”

I nod, gathering my thoughts. “No public displays without warning. I need … I need to prepare myself.”

“Except when someone’s harassing you,” he counters. “Sometimes we’ll need to act fast. Like with Marcus.”

“Fine. Emergency exceptions.” I watch him flex his re-cleaned hands. “Rule number three: This ends after your family’s gala.”

Something flickers in his expression. “Three months,” he supplies.

“Three months,” I agree. “Then we go back to normal.”

Lee leans closer, and I catch his scent—clean cotton and something spicy. “Rule number four: When we’re alone, we practice. Get comfortable with each other. Make it believable.”

My pulse jumps. “Starting now?”

“Starting now.” His hand comes up to cup my face, palm warm against my skin. “Last chance to back out, Pantry Girl.”

I should. I really should.

But …

“One more rule,” I whisper.

“Anything.”

“Don’t …” I take a shaky breath. “Don’t pretend too well. Remember, this isn’t real. It can’t be real. For either of us.”

His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and I watch his pupils dilate. “Trust me, Salem. I never forget what’s real and what isn’t.”

Liar, I think as he leans in.We’re both liars.

His lips brush mine, featherlight at first. Testing. Waiting for me to count my breaths, organize my thoughts, and prepare myself for contact.

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