Page 101 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“Let’s not talk about him,” Asher says, his voice light but with a hint of steel underneath. He presses a kiss to my temple, playing his part perfectly. “You know how jealous I get when anyone mentions my girlfriend’s ex.”

I shoot him a grateful look, my heart doing a stupid flip at how well he knows me, how easily he steers conversations away from painful topics. Sarah and Devyn exchange a smile that seems to be everyone’s default expression around us lately.

“I believe I owe this lovely lady a spin around the dance floor.” Devyn turns to Sarah with an exaggerated bow. “Though I can’t promise I won’t leave scorch marks on the floor.”

“Firefighter humor,” Sarah groans, but she’s already reaching for his hand. “Really?”

As they head toward the dance floor, Sarah calls over her shoulder, “Thank you again, Isla! Your matches are pure magic!”

“Let’s get out of here,” Asher murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

“What? Why? We just won at the couple’s bingo. Don’t we have to stay and defend our title or something?”

I’m not ready for this date to end, even if it’s not real. It feels like I’m Cinderella, watching the clock tick closer to midnight, knowing the magic is about to break.

Soon, we’ll go back to being just Isla and Asher—best friends who don’t hold hands or press soft kisses to temples.

His fingers have intertwined with mine, and he tugs me gently toward the exit. “Because,” his voice is carrying that dangerous warmth that makes my heart stumble, “I have something to show you that’s worth more than any heart-shaped cushion.”

Chapter 26

Isla

“Whereareyoutakingme, Collymore?” I whisper, trying to sound exasperated instead of breathless as we approach the familiar hill.

In the bright moonlight, I can clearly make out the wooden stairs zigzagging up its slope, weathered boards disappearing into the silver-lit trees above. The full moon bathes everything in a soft, ethereal glow, making the night feel almost magical.

“Patience, Peachie.” His hand is warm in mine as he guides me to the first step. He doesn’t really need his phone’s flashlight—the moonlight is casting enough light to see our way—but he keeps it on anyway, illuminating the worn treads ahead. “Though maybe hold on to me. These heels weren’t made for midnight hill-climbing.”

It definitely seems like he planned this night, right down to the walking shoes he’d tucked into his car and offered me before our climb up the hill. I’d stubbornly refused to wear them because they clashed too much with my dress.

“If you’re planning to murder me on this hill, I should warn you that Mayor Parker has photographic evidence of us together now.”

His laugh rumbles through the moonlit darkness. “Have you been reading murder mysteries?” He steadies me as my heel catches between two boards, his hand warm against my lower back.

The stairs wind through trees that hold a thousand childhood memories—secret hideouts, dramatic storytelling sessions, pinky promises made and kept.

We emerge at the hill’s summit platform, and my breath catches. Below us, Frosthaven sparkles like a jewel box someone spilled across the valley, the moonlight adding an extra layer of silver to the twinkling lights.

“Oh,” I breathe, unable to manage anything more eloquent.

“Better than the heart-shaped cushion?” Asher asks softly, and when I look up at him, the warmth in his eyes makes my heart stumble.

“I don’t know.” I manage to sound casual because it’s safer than the truth. “The cushion had a certain tacky charm. Did you really plan all this just to impress me?”

“Maybe.” His fingers brush through my hair, plucking a stray leaf and twirling it between his fingers. “Is it working?”

I roll my eyes and start pacing in the small space. Asher falls into step beside me. This feels like we’re teetering on the edge of something we can’t take back.

“Remember when we used to come up here as kids?” I ask. “You’d listen to all my made-up constellation stories.”

“Orion was always your favorite,” he says. “The mighty hunter with his loyal dog.”

“With his loyal dog, Canis Major.” I smile.

If we ever get a third dog, we could name him Canis. A big, fat, ridiculousif.

Because first, we’d need a second dog. Who, at this moment, only exists in my wild dream from a week ago. The one where Asher and I were married. With two kids. And another dog. Named Muffin. Because obviously, Mochi needed a sibling. And then, I’d have to casually suggest it and come up with some convincing excuse to trick Asher into raising more dogs with me.

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