Page 41 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

“Then what do we do?” His eyes search mine.

“We stick to the plan,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Give it time—It’s only been a few weeks.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Yeah, but...” He trails off, looking at me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

“But what?”

“But I didn’t expect...” He steps closer, and I fight the urge to back away. “I didn’t expect this to feel so...”

“Complicated?” I offer when he doesn’t finish.

His lips quirk. “That’s one word for it.”

Before I can respond, he checks his phone. “I need to catch my flight.” He starts gathering his things, then pauses. “See you this weekend?”

I nod, relief and disappointment warring in my chest. “Yeah. This weekend.”

He moves to leave but stops at the door. In one fluid motion, he turns back and kisses me—quick but thorough enough to leave me breathless.

When he pulls back, there’s a hint of his usual arrogance in his grin. “Just practicing for the cameras.”

After he’s gone, I sink onto the bed, pressing my fingers to my lips. Three weeks, and already the lines are blurring. This could get risky.

But as I think about seeing him this weekend, I can’t help wondering if a little risk might be worth it.

Thirteen

Nate

The bass reverberates through my chest as I work the drums, trying to lose myself in the rhythm. We’ve been rehearsing for hours, and while the music is tight, my mind keeps drifting to a pair of dark eyes and a smile that’s been haunting me for days.

Sam stretches, rolling his shoulders. “That last set was solid. Feels good to be back in the groove with these new songs.”

“Bridge needs work, though,” Cass cuts in, fingers dancing across his guitar strings. “Not enough punch before the chorus.”

I tap my sticks against my knee, nodding. “I’ll add some heavier fills.”

“So, Nate,” Vince smirks from his spot by the mini-fridge, “how’s your Hollywood fiancée doing? Did the movie premiere go well?”

I keep my eyes on my drum kit, aware of three sets of eyes watching for my reaction. “She crushed it.”

“Of course she did,” Sam whistles. “Pretty sure the whole world saw those red carpet photos. Who knew you could mix so well with the Hollywood elite?”

“Yeah,” Cass chuckles, “almost looked like you belonged there.”

I roll my eyes, but my phone buzzes before I can respond. Lacey’s name lights up the screen, and I fight back a smile.

“When’s she coming back?” Vince asks, stirring sugar into his coffee.

“Tomorrow.” I aim for casual, missing the mark entirely. “Photoshoot for People, some interviews.”

“Busy schedule,” Cass notes, giving me a knowing look.

“Rachel and Emily are making sure of that.” I run a hand through my hair, thinking about the packed itinerary. “Magazine spread, radio interviews, and more...”

“Sounds exhausting,” Vince says.

It is exhausting, I think to myself, but not because of the schedule. What’s exhausting is pretending my heart doesn’t race every time her name pops up on my phone, acting like I’m not counting the hours until she’s back, and pretending this is just business when it’s becoming anything but.

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