Page 73 of The Enemy of My Enemy Is… My Fake Boyfriend?

"Word of the day?"

"Yes," she said with a satisfied little smile on her face.

Damn, she was cute. And I had to admire her persistence with expanding her vocabulary, even if it all began because of that douchebag Chase.

We soon arrived on a deceptively quiet street in Greenwich Village, a question on Aria's face as I led her to the entrance of a vintage bookstore. The inside had that musty, familiar smell, the air thick with the scent of old paper.

Her eyes took in the shelves stacked with dusty books as I kept her hand in mine, leading her deeper into the store.

"Are you taking me to the poetry section?" she whispered.

"Not tonight."

I could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears as she attempted to figure it all out. And even more so when we approached a dark, secluded corner with a seemingly ordinary bookcase. At my touch, the bookcase clicked open, revealing a dimly lit passage along with the sound of a persistent low beat.

"What is this place?" Aria gasped.

With a grin, I tugged her hand and led her into the secret passage, her eyes sparkling with excitement, the beat of the music growing louder with each step.

We finally emerged into the hidden club, the soft glow of lights bathing the plush velvet furnishings, making the placewarm and inviting. Every single table was jam-packed so we made our way to the bar where we were lucky to grab two seats, Aria turning her body so she could watch the dancers who filled up the space in the middle.

"This place is so cool," she gushed.

"I'm glad it's good enough for the great Aria Stratton."

She nudged me. "You think I'm a snob?"

I finally gave in to the urge and put my hand on her leg. "Never."

Her eyes met mine, and I stared at her, so damn stunning in here. I could look at her all day and night, and still, it wouldn't be enough.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, reluctantly removing my hand.

"Always."

For what felt like hours, we feasted and people-watched, the crowd an interesting mix of hipsters, artsy types, and bohemians, plus a few lost-looking souls who looked like they wanted to disappear.

I noticed Aria only drank water, and I did the same. "You sure you don't want a cocktail or something?" I asked once we'd finished eating, the pulse of the music picking up as the hour grew later.

"No alcohol for me. Thank you."

"Why not?" I couldn't help thinking of the last time she'd indulged. "Are you afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?"

Glaring at me, she shoved my arm, making me laugh.

"I get it. I know I'm irresistible to you." I signaled the bartender. "Mocktails it is then."

"Don't not drink because of me," Aria chimed in.

But I wasn't about to drink if she wasn't, so we kept our night alcohol-free, which seemed strange at first. It was almost like we needed the buzz to loosen our inhibitions, or we'd been relyingon it to relax and get into the fake dating physicality that we'd needed at times.

It didn't seem that anyone here took notice of us. So maybe it was okay if we weren't all over each other tonight.

I had to admit that I missed it though. Aria sitting right next to me, our chairs scooted so close our legs touched, was a constant reminder of what I was missing.

Aria finished her fruity drink and nudged me. "Want to dance?"

"Sure." I wanted to doeverything, but I'd settle for dancing.

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