Page 56 of The Enemy of My Enemy Is… My Fake Boyfriend?

He glanced down at me, brows knitted together in confusion. "Coordinate? Why do we need to do that?"

Was he joking? "You know, so we complement each other, and I get the right color, the right heels so I don't tower over you or outshine you."

"Baby, wear whatever the fuck you want. Wear the highest heels in the world. Iwantyou to outshine me."

The meaning behind his words took a second to sink in, and once they did, they reverberated through me like a burst of sunshine, filling me with a sense of warmth and empowerment.

"Don't even tell me..." he said in a steely tone, "Chase had a say in what you wore."

I didn't answer, my mind reeling that I had let myself fall prey like that to someone else's expectations,someone who never truly valued me. He'd stifled me, held me back, making me lose sight of my own worth in trying to please someone who couldn't see or appreciate my light.

But it wasn't just him. It was me as well. What was wrong with me that I'd let him treat me like that in the first place?

Thankfully, Ethan didn't push me to say anything about it, instead holding on to me tighter. All for show of course. That was the point of this whole afternoon anyway.

Our mood lightened as we approached the Arc, street performers along the way putting smiles on our faces. It was so very French, like out of a movie or a cute, cheesy romcom, complete with my imagined montage of us laughing, holding hands, and embracing each other constantly.

Once we reached the iconic monument, we took a few selfies, and I began to upload a few to social media since it seemed like everything else we'd done today was all for naught. No one took notice of us. No one seemed to care in the slightest.

Maybe we'd have to go back to New York and continue this PDA charade there for it to actually work.

I wondered if Ethan minded. After all, it'd been his idea to begin with.

But looking at his smiling face in my photo and then at his transfixed expression as he took in the Arc de Triomphe, it struck me that he didn't seem to care.

Despite the fakeness of our relationship, maybe I could learn a thing or two from Ethan.

Eighteen

Aria

Ethan helped me from the backseat of the car, the lights and sounds of nighttime in Paris surrounding us, a whisper of magic and romance. The Eiffel Tower glittered in front of us, mesmerizing and majestic, and even though I'd seen it before, it still commanded all of my attention.

Until Ethan took my hand and led me closer, distracting me completely with his touch.

The ball of energy that had been swirling in my stomach all evening increased in frequency at the intensity of the moment. All day I'd been waiting for that kiss. Waiting and wondering forever it seemed like.

To be honest, I was beginning to think it was never going to happen. Maybe Ethan had changed his mind. And that was okay. Really.

We were quiet as we stood there in awe at the incredible, iconic sight before us, craning our necks in an attempt to take it all in, Ethan's hand gripped tightly around mine. And then suddenly, the tower began to glitter and sparkle, the lights twinkling from the wide base all the way to the tip.

I gasped, amazed that we'd timed it so perfectly. Ethan's laugh was so low that I almost missed it. Almost. "Did you do this on purpose?" I asked, my voice a little breathless.

Not willing to tear my eyes away, I sensed his nonchalant shrug, like this was all no big deal, like it didn't shake me to my core that my fake boyfriend was more of a romantic than any man I'd ever known.

For the entire five minutes we stood still to watch, leaning back against the side wall of a restaurant, the stones behind us probably older than the tower itself, its crevices holding centuries-long secrets I couldn't even begin to imagine.

When the show was over, gratitude filled me for this man beside me, and I turned to him. "Thank you," I whispered.

His eyes caught mine, his reflecting the lights of the city, and a strange tension crackled between us. A flutter of anticipation erupted in my chest because I knew that look... it was that pause, that hesitation, right before a first kiss.

Why was he holding back? I'd never in a million years expect Ethan to act like that. Was he not attracted to me? Was all of this really for show and he knew that no one was watching so what was the point? Or was I the only one blurring boundaries here?

He reached out a hand, his thumb grazing my cheek, his gaze shifting from my eyes to my hair. "Aria..." he said softly.

I didn't dare to breathe, my heart thumping away, so loud I wondered if he could hear it.

Again, the moment seemed to draw itself out until finally he said, "Fuck it," under his breath, his hand moving from my cheek into my hair as his lips crashed down on mine. And dear God, he tasted incredible.

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