Page 97 of Between Hate and Desire

“Uh, well. Yes,” I hesitate on how much to tell her, but she’s my sister, and I tell her almost everything. “We practiced kissing.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Sophie nearly chokes out the words.

I roll my eyes, knowing damn well she heard me. “We had to! We have to be convincing, which means acting and looking like a real couple.”

She’s silent for a beat, then speaks up in a too perky tone. “With tongue?”

Laughter escapes me as my cheeks heat. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That means yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “I bet he’s a good kisser too.” She sighs as if she’s imagining it, which has me chuckling. Hunterisa fantastic kisser.Fuck my life. “So are you hot for Hunter? Because I wouldn’t blame you in the least.”

“Hot for Hunter?” I repeat, blushing. “Are we back in middle school?” I ask defensively.

“That’s not an answer.”

I groan, not wanting to have this conversation. Things are getting complicated even though I don’t want to admit it. Last night after we went to bed, I’m pretty sure I heard Hunter jerking off. Part of me wanted to press my ear to the wall and listen, but I knew that’d be wrong. Still, it didn’t mean I wasn’t intrigued, wondering if he was thinking about me or not.

And as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I pushed it away.

“No, of course not. This is all pretend, Soph.”

“Hmm…but is it?” she asks in a condescending tone. “I see the way he looks at you. The way he’salwayslooked at you. It’s okay to admit you’re attracted to him. I know you feel guilty because of Brandon, but Hunter’s a hot piece of single man meat.”

“Eww,” I say, laughing. “Please don’t ever say man meat ever again.”

“Stop dodging the question, sis.” I hear the smile in her snarky tone, but I don’t allow myself to think about those things. I can’t.

“Hot for Hunter sounds like an ad campaign for a new men’s cologne.” I snort, hoping she drops it.

“Hell, it should be!” She chuckles. “The man always smells so damn good.”

So much for dropping it.

“Well, we were going to go through our notecards again, and I need to finish packing.” My stomach growls. “And apparently the baby’s hungry again.”

“Okay, fine. Go feed my niece or nephew and please text me when you can. I’m going to be a nervous wreck waiting to hear from you,” she pleads.

“I will, promise! Everything okay over there?” I quickly ask. “Are you avoiding Hurricane Carter?”

“Yes and no.” She groans. “I’m ready to dick punch him, cut it off, then serve it on a platter to Maria.”

“That’s…graphic.” I snicker. “Well, good luck. If you want to stay here while we’re gone, I can leave you a key.”

“Ooh, maybe. I’ll let you know.”

Minutes later, we end the call, but I need a moment to get myself together before going back to Hunter. Sophie’s words linger in my head, my heart races, and I’m nervous about facing him after what she said.

This is all just pretend, I remind myself.

Once I’m good, I walk into the living room with a smile plastered on my face. I grab the notecards from the kitchen table, then sit on the couch next to him, hoping he doesn’t notice my awkwardness.

“Where did I grow up?” I ask, keeping my eyes down.

He answers right.

“What school did I graduate from?”

Right again.

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