Page 34 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Instead, it looks like I’ll need to show her. And there’s no other option in my brain at the moment than to prove to her that her assumptions—while actually true—are false.

“Constance,” I say sweetly, taking a step forward and out of Jordan’s hold.

She tilts her chin upward. “What?”

Appropriately, Katy Perry’sRoarplays in the background, each beat pumping me up to do something I never in a million years thought I would do.

“Doesthislook fake to you?”

Then I spin toward Jordan and snatch the front of his shirt. I see his wide eyes flicker down at me for a split second before lifting on my tiptoes, wrapping one arm around his neck, tugging him toward me—and aiming my mouth for his.

It’s a moment of suspension in air, of my brain wondering what in the ding-dong donuts I’m doing, hoping that Jordan sees this as necessary, just like I do—praying that I’m not overstepping.

Then, that moment’s over, and it’s clear Jordan agrees when his hands find my waist and he yanks me against him. Our mouths fuse together like they’ve done it a million times, and I can’t help but melt against him like butter on a hot, delicious blueberry muffin.

His fingers flex against my hipbones, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of every point where our bodies connect. His lips are impossibly soft, moving against mine with a tenderness I never expected. This is Jordan—my best friend, my fake husband—but there’s nothing pretend about the way he’s holding me, like I’m something precious, or how my knees have gone weak as I drown in the taste of him, in the warmth of his embrace, in the way his fingers trail up my spine to cradle the back of my head.

I’ve never been kissed like this, never felt so completely consumed by a single moment.

Then a loud whistle pierces the air, followed by whoops and a chorus of “Get a room!” Reality crashes in, and I stumble backward, my lips tingling, to find our entire group of friends and the rest of the town staring at us with knowing grins.

At least it seems like Constance believes us, given that she looks as if she just touched a burning hot stove.

I can relate to that feeling. My show for Constance has led to this—a heart thundering against my ribs, my entire body feeling like it’s been lit from within.

And then, there’s the realization that I didn’t want it to stop.

What have I done?

nine

JORDAN

My converted garage-slash-man cave might be filled with dudes at the moment, but my head is even fuller. And not even our monthly Saturday guys’ night can get me out of this funk.

“Oh, come on, mate!” Frederick tosses popcorn at the big-screen television from his seat on the black couch. “That’s a definite penalty.”

“Yikes.” I lean on a cue stick near the pool table behind the couch, where I’m playing a solo game. “That looked like it hurt.”

“It’s downright criminal is whatthatwas.” Freddy cups his hand around his mouth and boos loudly.

Landon snickers, clapping Frederick on the shoulder. “Still cracks me up we’ve converted you into such a hockey fanatic, Freddy, old boy.”

“I didn’t know what I was missing, chaps. How can you not enjoy watching Ethan Fox killing it on the ice like that?” Freddy lifts a water bottle toward the sky, as if in toast to the Big Apple Blizzards’ forward. “I really think it’s likely he will lead them to the Stanley Cup this year, yeah?” His accent—which matches Chloe’s, given they’re both from the European country of Kentonia—sounds all sorts of dignified, and in direct contrast to the way he was screaming at the TV not moments ago.

“It looks promising, that’s for sure.” I line up my shot and take it.

Miss.

Shoot. I’ve even lost my ability to play a decent game of pool. Marilee’s that much of a distraction, even out here.

“Agreed, but only if he can keep from being injured. Everyone’s clearly gunning for him.” Blake grabs a few cans of soda and two waters from my garage fridge, which is next to the door leading into the house—the house where Ryder’s asleep and Marilee’s spent all day baking up a storm. The smell of cinnamon and sugar and frosting have seeped through the doorway cracks. She’s got a few cakes to finish up this weekend, and I didn’t want to disturb her, so I took Ryder out for a long hike today so she could be alone.

Maybe, like me, she needs time to process last night’s kiss.

It…well, I’m not gonna lie. It shattered my world in every kind of way. Shattered what I thought I knew. What I thought I wanted.

What I thought I could be content never having.

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