Page 109 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

Heat crawls up my neck as fragments of memory surface. Me grabbing his shirt. Me patting the bed beside me.

Please tell me this is not true.

My sleepy self betrayed me. She haszerodiscipline. This isnothow fake couples act. And it’s absolutelynotsomething best friends do.

“How long have you been awake?” I croak, voice scratchy with sleep and existential dread.

“Long enough.” He reaches over to hand me the scrunchie from my nightstand. “You always hate when your hair gets in your face first thing in the morning.”

He ties my hair into the world’s softest ponytail, the way he always does. Sick days. Sleepovers. Movie marathons when I crashed halfway through.

My breath catches. There’s something about the way his fingers move that makes my chest feel too full. I might float right off the bed.

I need to move.

I sit up. But too fast, forgetting how close I still am—and momentum sends me tipping forward, straight toward him.

Oh no.

I throw out a hand to catch myself and land squarely against his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts his head slightly, one brow lifting.

“You okay?”

“I—Did you stay here the whole night?”

“You told me to.”

“I . . .what?”

“You said—‘Come here, you’re warm and shaped like a couch I trust.’”

“I didnotsay that.”

“You did,” he says, smile growing. “Then you called me a marshmallow thief and made me hide under the blanket so the glitter bunnies wouldn’t find us.”

“I—”

“You also clawed at my shirt when I tried to leave.” He lifts the hem to show a tiny tear near the button seam. “Battle scar.”

My face is pure lava. “Please tell me I didn’t say anything else horrifying.”

Multiple people said I always say weird stuff when I’m sleepy. According to Elaine, I once said something about grounding the moon because it was acting suspicious.

Asher pauses. The corners of his mouth tug tight.

The air between us sharpens, the kind of silence you can feel against your skin.

“Asher.”

“Well.” He stretches like a smug cat, muscles shifting under the thin fabric of his shirt. “You said you finally got to see how your best friend dates.”

“That’s not bad. That’s a perfectly observational statement.”

“And then.” His eyes darken. “You said you didn’t know how I kiss.”

A bolt of heat punches through my chest. Pretty sure my soul just evacuated my body.

“I didn’t.”

---