Page 100 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“Hey, it’s okay,” Asher says, something flickers in his eyes. “We’re just researching for future reference, right?”

“Right. Research. Super useful.” I nod way too quickly. “And also good for the show. For the believability factor.”

Oh wait, we haven’t talked about the exit plan.

“We haven’t . . .” I swallow hard. “Talked about our breakup plan.”

Because that’s what responsible fake-daters do, right? Plan their fake breakup? Also, talking about breaking up will help me remember this isn’t real, no matter how real it feels, or how much I wish it is.

Asher goes still beside me, his jaw doing that tense thing it does when he’s thinking hard about something. One Mississippi, two Mississippi . . . I count the seconds before he relaxes.

“Don’t worry about that now.” Asher’s lips curve into an easy smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe you can say I’m too boring. Or that I snore. Loudly. And you just couldn’t take it anymore.”

The image of Asher snoring like a chainsaw while I dramatically storm out pops into my head, and before I can stop it, a laugh bursts out.

“Couples, get ready!” Mayor Gladys Parker’s voice booms through the community hall, cutting through the excited chatter. “We’re testing how well you really know your partner. And don’t worry, Betty’s got eyes on all of you!”

“Ready to dominate some bingo?” he asks, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Bring it on, Collymore.”

“And that’s another bingo for Asher and Isla!”

Turns out being best friends for fifteen years means we’ve accidentally checked off most of thereal coupleboxes without even trying. “First vacation together?” Check—that disastrous camping trip when we were twelve. “Share clothes?” Well, he did give me his hoodie that one time I was cold (and I maybe, possibly, never returned it). “Finish each other’s sentences?” Unfortunately, yes, especially when he’s about to make a terrible pun.

The funny thing is, we’re beating actual married couples at this game. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, who’ve been together for forty years, are shooting us suspicious looks from across the room.

Though to be fair, they missed “Know each other’s embarrassing nicknames” (Asher’s mom still calls him “Cubby,” and only I know why) and “Have a song” (it’s not our fault we both got “Sweet Caroline” stuck in our heads that one summer and now it’s ruined forever).

“Congratulations!” Mayor Parker beams, presenting us with our prize—a giant heart-shaped cushion that says ‘Frosthaven’s Perfect Pair’ in glittering pink letters, and two matching “Love Conquers All” coffee mugs that look like they’ve been sitting in Town Hall since 1987.

“For your morning coffee together,” Betty adds with a wink.

The lights dim, and Mayor Parker’s voice crackles over the speakers announcing it’s time for dancing. Couples begin migrating toward the dance floor, where string lights cast a warm glow over everything. Even the heart-shaped balloons look magical instead of tacky now.

We weave through the crowd, and I try to memorize how natural it feels to move together, how his hand finds mine without hesitation. This is dangerous territory. But I allow myself this one night of make-believe, treat it like a dream.

The safest way to date your best friend without actually risking everything.

Near the punch bowl, we spot Samantha and Eric, heads bent close together, probably discussing corporate law or tax regulations. They catch our eye and wave, both beaming. Asher and I share a knowing smile—looks like my failed match created a perfect one instead.

“Isla!” Sarah’s voice cuts through the crowd as she waves enthusiastically, pulling Devyn along behind her. “I have to thank you!”

“For what?”

I can’t help noticing how happy they look together. After weeks of canceled appointments and whispered doubts, seeing Sarah and Devyn’s success feels like validation. Going back to my original matchmaking methods was the right decision.

“For matching us,” Sarah says, squeezing Devyn’s hand. “I never would have given this firefighter a chance if you hadn’t insisted we have that coffee date. Your instincts were spot on—he’s perfect for me.”

“Even if I did show up covered in soot,” Devyn adds with a grin.

“Especially because you showed up covered in soot,” Sarah corrects, going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“See?” Asher murmurs in my ear. “Your method works just fine.”

Sarah’s expression suddenly turns serious. “Oh, and I’m so glad I didn’t listen to Kyle. Can you believe he actually called me after I signed up for your service? Tried to convince me to cancel our appointment, saying all these awful things about your matchmaking style.”

I stiffen at Kyle’s name, my hand tightening on the heart cushion. Asher’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me closer and steadying me.

---