Page 103 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

A sky full of stars. They seem close enough to touch, scattered across the velvet sky like diamond dust. Beautiful.

So beautiful that I want to collect some. Put them in a jar. Keep them forever. Or, at least take a picture.

Asher steps away slightly, reaches into his pocket, and then tucks something into my hair.

“There.”

I reach up, fingertips brushing against the side of my temple.

Something smooth and delicate. Something that wasn’t there before. I pull it free and look down.

A small, gold star-shaped hair clip.

Asher chuckles. “Figured you might want to collect some stars.”

The music still plays, soft and slow, wrapping around us like a dream. He takes the clip from my fingers, slides it back into my hair,

His hand returns to my waist, pulling me effortlessly back into the dance. “Let’s continue. Dancing under the stars.”

Wait a minute. Dancing under the stars? This feels suspiciously similar to item number two on my Love Bucket List.

First, he rescues a puppy, and we name him together. Now we’re dancing beneath the stars?

Is Asher fulfilling my wishes one by one?

“This feels familiar,” I murmur, studying his face for any hint that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Asher’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

But there is another memory that comes to mind.

“There were so many stars in the sky the night Dad left.” I swallow hard. “As beautiful as this.”

It’s not something I tell anyone. Because if I don’t say it out loud, maybe it’s not really part of me. Maybe I’m not that girl. The girl whose dad walked away. The girl who wasn’t worth staying for.

“Sorry, Peachie.” Asher’s grip tightens just slightly.

“No. Not your fault.”

I gave myself a Love Bucket List for a reason. Dancing under the stars with someone I love. Because I wanted a do-over. A way to rewrite that night. To take back the feeling of being unwanted. To turn my stars into something beautiful again.

Asher might not be someone I can love. But doing this with him is too perfect. So perfect that I think he’s ruining me for my future boyfriend.

If I ever have one.

“Mom was in the kitchen, pretending to clean while her hands shook. And Conner just stood there with our soccer ball, calling Dad out on his lies. ‘Work doesn’t take all your clothes,’ he said.”

“You know what the worst part was?” I look up at the sky again. “He knelt down, looked me right in the eye, and told me what a great kid I was. How smart and sweet I was.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “But I knew he was lying. If he really meant it, he wouldn’t have left. Would’ve looked back at least once. I asked Mom if I did something wrong. She said no, of course. Conner kept telling me everything was going to be okay, that he’d protect me. But I could hear him as he buried his face in the pillow when he thought I was asleep. And I just kept thinking, if I could be better. Quieter. Smarter. More lovable. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to leave.”

Even twenty years later, I can still hear the click of that door closing, still feel the cold floor under my feet as I stood there.

A single tear slips down my cheek.

I blink up at the sky, willing it to stop, willing myself to push it all back where it belongs. Asher pulls out a napkin and gently wipes it away.

“Let it out, Peachie.” His voice is soft. “It’s okay.”

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