Page 39 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

“Maybe dilapidated is fine. I think we can call a truce and leave it more as a marking of territory if you promise to stay on your side.” My tone steadies.

“I suppose that could be arranged.” There’s a laugh in his voice. Outside, the sound of the wind howling picks up.

“Sounds like it’s going to snow again tonight,” I say a bit nervously. Winter storms and loud noises, especially at night, are not my favorite. A crash in the distance makes me jump just a bit.

“You know, we haven’t really held hands yet,” he whispers.

“What? Why would we hold hands?” We used to hold hands all the time. Long walks in the park, watching a movie, or just having dinner together. Those times, I felt so safe, so happy, as if nothing could shake us.

How is it that we could go from that to being nothing so quickly? Suddenly, those days seem so far away. It’s almost like this is something new, something better, starting over. Could this be our second chance?

“We could hold hands to practice, you know, for the rest of the competition and stuff. We might be rusty at it.” Another gust of wind rips through the trees outside, making a terrible howling sound that makes me shiver. Inside the cabin, it’s as warm as it could possibly be.

“We could try it till the storm stops.” I relent. His hand slides under the barrier and finds mine, wrapping around it. It brings fresh tears to my eyes. Back when we were together, he’d always hold my hand when there was a storm outside. He’d make sure that I felt safe.

Yet another gust shakes the cabin, and for a moment, I wonder if it will hold. I squeeze Dylan’s hand. Somehow, things aren’t as scary when he’s with me.

“Don’t worry, Ames. It’s not getting in.” His voice is low and warm.

There are so many things I want to ask him, things I’ll probably never know the answers to. But tonight, I’ll let his hand in mine be enough.

It might be selfish of me, but just for a moment, I want to forget about the past. I want to think of laughing, joking, teasing Dylan. The one who buys me my favorite dessert, surprises me with ice skates, and makes gingerbread houses with me.

I want to let my mind wander and pretend that we never left one another and our life is right on track.

***

“So, what do you think the next competition is?” I lean against the table, trying to guess what it might be. I might not have wanted to take the whole competition thing seriously at first, but now that Dylan’s convinced me, I’m in.

In case I needed further convincing, Leo practically yelled at me in all caps, telling me I’d be out of my mind to give up a free cruise just because of a little “ex-drama.”

But standing here now, leaning closer to Dylan, it doesn’t feel so straightforward. All those old feelings I’d locked away are creeping back, like a flower pressing through cracks in concrete.

“Not sure, but whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll kill it.” Dylan grins at me, making my heart melt. It’s always been irresistible.

I can’t let myself fall just because he’s saying all the right things or because of that one kiss that made my heart skip a beat. Letting myself fall means risking that pain again, and I don’t know if I can handle that.

But what if this new Dylan really is different?

Sometimes I wish I had amnesia. Then I could fall in love and be in ignorant bliss to the past. This new version of Dylan is like Dylan 2.0. He’s everything I loved about Dylan, minus the heartbreak and that whole seeing-Clara-right-after thing.

“Good morning, everyone. I know you are all eager to hear what the next competition is.” Mrs. Parker has everyone's attention as she takes the mic. “It’s karaoke! Pick the song that illustrates your relationship and present it tonight. I’m so excited to see what you come up with.”

I groan. I’m not so sure about singing.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Singing? We’re no good at that.”

“Speak for yourself.” He chuckles. “I could have been a pop star if I’d chosen that as a career.”

“Right.” I almost choke on my coffee. My eyes go to the door behind him as it opens, letting in a gust of snow. This time, I choke.

There, at the entrance of the Cozy Haven Inn, is the one woman who yanks me back to reality. In a tight little dress suit that barely reaches her mid-thigh, red lipstick caked on, and those fluttering eyes is Clara Hayes.

Chapter 18

Dylan

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