Page 29 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

That’s one way to put it. Realizing I want to make things real is new, and I’m not sure how to make it happen.

“Well, we'd like to hear all about it.” Sam motions to one of the tables in the diner.

I follow him over reluctantly, wishing I could have convinced Amy to stay, or that I had a good reason to barge in on her private time back at the cabin. I wonder what she's going to do. She certainly was in a hurry to leave.

“So, tell us what's going on with you two lovebirds?” Emily says after we've ordered and it's just the three of us at the table. “You were so close in high school and college and then …”

She leaves the rest unsaid. We hashed it out after she threatened to cut me off for abruptly breaking up with Amy. Even after I explained my reasons, it took a lot to convince her to understand and make a promise not to tell Amy.

“Actually, nothing,” I sigh. I've never been able to keep things from my sister. Even though it's going to put our cover at stake, I can't help but tell her the truth. I want to know if I'm crazy for wanting to make our fake relationship into a real one.

“It's all kind of a lie. I mean, we're notreallydating again … though I want to be.”

“Now that's interesting,” Sam says. He leans forward, taking an extra-long drink from his straw.

I give them the rundown of everything that’s gone down between me and Amy since we’ve been back. When I’m done, silence settles over the table, leaving me looking between them.

“So, you think I got a shot?”

“I don't know,” Emily laughs. “It sounds like you've made a bit of a mess of it. Maybe you should just tell her the truth.”

I will. But first, I need to talk to the other person involved.

Chapter 13

Amy

“A little to the left … no, wait, maybe to the right, just half a centimeter.” I squeeze my fists together in suspense as Dylan finishes placing my painting. He takes a step back and wipes one hand exaggeratedly across his forehead.

“How much did it cost to ship those here?” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks the painting up and down. It’s of a little girl in a red sled hurling down a snowy white hill.

Her golden hair flies behind her, and the look of glee on her face makes the viewer feel it. It's one of my favorites, second only to the painting I still have tucked away in my room.

“Plenty. Does it matter?” I ask. “The important thing is, they’re here for the auction.” I take a step back and admire our work.Everything is in perfect alignment, and even I would want to bid on my paintings. Never thought I’d ever think that.

I check my phone and frown. Leo hasn’t answered my email. Even though I was engrossed in an online movie marathon with Laura and Megan last night at the cabin, I kept checking for any news.

“Everything good?” Dylan asks, his eyes roaming me up and down. My skin tingles and I suddenly find the hem of my shirt fascinating. Definitely not because I’m remembering how it feels when he looks at me like that.

I peek up. He's still watching, a slight smile playing on his lips. I bet he's just spacing out. Thinking about … I don't know, baseball or whatever guys think about.

There isn’t even anyone else here for us to perform for. This whole town thinks we’re dating now. If there was any doubt, it was cemented when we were announced as one of the winners of the first round of the Christmas Couples Contest.

“Everything’s fine. Just waiting to hear back from someone.” I bite my lower lip. Did I just say too much?

“Someone? Aspecialsomeone?” he asks, with that teasing glint in his eye, the same one I used to know so well.

“A friend. We’ll leave it at that. I have an art class starting in about …” I check my watch. “Oh, gosh, it’s starting in five minutes.” I turn to rush from the auction room.

Dylan reaches out and grabs my arm, spinning me around right into him. The space between us shrinks until there’s barely a breath left. My breaths come faster, the air suddenly too thick. When did the room get so small?

“What …” The word is barely more than a breath. I lift my gaze, finding his eyes fixed on mine, intense, dark. They drop to my lips, holding there, and everything inside me goes still, waiting, pulse thundering in my ears.

Then he reaches out and rubs his thumb softly against the tip of my nose.

“You have a bit of paint, just there. Didn’t want you looking messy in front of your new students.” He keeps rubbing my nose, removing the bit of paint.

“I’m not trying to win a beauty contest. Besides, painting has a tendency to be a bit messy,” I manage to say.

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