Page 37 of Play Pretend

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

His burning blue gaze finally met mine, and it took the rest of my breath away. It was enough to prove this wasn’t a dream. There was no way my mind could conjure up such an intense look or remember all the tiny details of his irises. The golden flecks, the dark freckles, the lighter lines webbing throughout. His eyes were a melting pot of colors swirling together like a kaleidoscope. It would be so easy to get lost in them, to fall headfirst.

“What?” I asked again. It was the only word that would come out.

“I’ll help you. I’ll do it.”

My heart was in my throat as I stared at him. “You’ll do it?”

His chin dipped again, then he turned his attention back toward the ocean. It felt like I was falling from a planewithout a parachute—everything was happening slowly, but also impossibly fast.

“I need to know everything you told your family. Everything we did, everywhere we went,” he said softly.

Reaching up, I scrubbed my hand over my face, my phone still clutched in the other. This was so damn embarrassing. Everything flipped through my mind, but nothing stayed long enough for me to latch onto. I didn’t know where to start.

“There’s a lot to tell,” I muttered.

“I need to know everything.” He pressed his palms together, the tips of his index fingers tapping against each other. Suddenly, his eyes met mine again, and my breath hitched. “I need you to know this—I don’t do anything halfway. If I’m doing this, I’m all in, Willow. From this second on, we have to live this lie. I need to know you, and you need to know me. How long have we been together?”

I roughly cleared my throat. “A year.”

“Then we need to act like it. We need to make them believe we’re in love—we have to make everyone believe it.”

The wordlovewas like a butcher knife straight through the chest. “Right.”

“Start from the beginning,” he coaxed. “Tell me how it all started.”

I took a deep breath, my lungs aching with it. That was a loaded question—a loaded demand. How far back was I supposed to go? Just a year ago, when the actual lie fell from my lips? Or all the way back to my childhood when I first became desperate for my father’s approval?

The sunlight slowly dimmed, making the sky churn dark gray, with bruised purples and reds mingling with it. A chill ran through me from the wind surrounding us, sending my hair flying in every direction, the fresh scent of my shampoo fillingmy nose. He roughly cleared his throat as I swatted the wild strands away.

He didn’t need to know my whole life story. He just needed to know the lies he was a part of. So, I started there. I told him about the phone call with my dad, about the way I’d just blurted it out. It wasn’t intentional, it was never supposed to become this.

But it had.

“I guess I was too worried about upsetting my dad or proving that he was right. I never thought about anyone finding out about the lie. I never thoughtyou’dfind out,” I said softly, keeping my attention on the lighthouse. “I know it doesn’t make it right, and I’m sorry for using you?—”

“It’s alright.” But it didn’tfeelalright. It felt wrong. Like I’d betrayed him, betrayed his trust before he’d ever given it to me. “So, our first date was at the beach?”

“I couldn’t think of anywhere else,” I admitted. A low, breathy laugh left him, and I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. Embarrassment flooded my body at the sound. “What?”

“It’s fitting,” he said, smiling. “You love the beach more than anyone else I’ve ever known. I grew up here, but I swear you’ve been here more than I have.” I tilted my head to the side, my brows creasing as I twisted, giving him my full attention. Gracie had said something similar just the other day.

“How do you know I’m here all the time?” I asked, and he snorted.

“Everyone knows you practically live here. If you’re not at home or at work—” He gestured vaguely toward the lighthouse. “Here you are.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, gently untangling it. Those words were so close to what my father had said a year ago—the words that got us into this mess in the first place. But when Ronan said them, there wasn’t an ounce of judgementbehind them. There wasn’t anything unspoken, nothing telling me he was embarrassed. If anything, it seemed like he was more curious than anything else.

“Am I that predictable?”

“That isn’t a bad thing,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine. “There’s safety in predictability.”

Silence stretched out, far and wide, our gazes the only thing connecting us. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. His intensity held me captive, demanded my full attention, and I gave it to him. Wholly.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist and sighed.

“Let’s get out of here. We’re going to be late,” he muttered, his words melting into the wind. “We can go over everything tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He just pushed to his feet, groaning softly, and swiped his hand along the back of his jeans. I peered up at him, my heart still in my throat. I hadn’t shared everything with him—I hadn’t even scratched the surface of all the lies.

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