Page 50 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“I need to understand how she does it and what makes everyone think she’s so special . . .”

Mom wraps her arm around me, pulling me close the way she used to when I was little, and the world felt too big. “You are special, sweetheart, and you are my perfect girl. It’s okay to explore and try new things, but don’t lose yourself in the process.” She presses a kiss to my temple. “When you’re being the truest version of yourself, the right person will see you exactly as you are.”

Victor smiles as he reaches for Mom’s hand. They make it look so natural, this whole love thing.

“For someone who can spot a perfect match from across town,” Conner drawls, leaning back with that half-smile, “you’ve got a real talent for missing the obvious, sis.”

Mom clears her throat. “So, who wants more popcorn?”

“Me!” Conner and I say in unison.

“Jinx!”

The doorbell chimes just as the Titans are lining up for a crucial power play. We all groan in unison, our eyes glued to the TV.

“Seriously?” Conner mumbles through a mouthful of popcorn. “Now?”

Mom gives him a look. “Conner, sweetie, could you get that?”

He huffs dramatically but hauls himself off the couch. I snicker, and he tosses a throw pillow at me without breaking stride.

“Children,” Mom warns, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide.

The door creaks open. A sharp inhale. Then a high-pitched squeak that definitely doesn’t belong in my brother’s vocal range.

My head whips around, and I nearly choke on my drink. There in the doorway stands Elaine, her usual confident posture frozen mid-step, staring at my brother like she’s seen a ghost. Conner’s not doing much better, his hand still gripping the doorknob like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

The hockey game fades into background noise as all eyes in the living room turn toward the door, drawn by the crackling tension suddenly filling our house.

Elaine doesn’t seem to notice us right away. Not with Conner standing there, soaking up all her focus like some kind of drama magnet.

Elaine’s chin lifts as if she had just won that vicious county baking competition. “Oh. If it isn’t the prodigal son himself.”

Conner’s signature lazy grin slides into place, but his knuckles are white against the doorframe. “Miss Harper. Polite as ever, I see. And here I thought time would’ve sweetened you up.”

“Some things never change.” Her eyes flick to his shoulder, then quickly away. “Like your ego.”

They stand there, neither willing to step back or look away first.

“Did you need something?” Conner asks, shifting his weight to lean against the doorframe. “Or did you just miss watching me walk away?”

Elaine’s cheeks flush pink, but her voice stays steady. “Your mom asked for Grandma Rose’s apple pie recipe.” She waves the paper in front of him. “Though I’m surprised you even remember what real food tastes like after your fancy city life.”

“Still very bitter about something?” Conner’s grin turns wicked.

“Well?” Elaine waves the recipe like a challenge flag. “Are you going to take it, or is that too much effort for the great Conner Ennis?”

Conner reaches for the recipe, but Elaine pulls it back. “Careful with those reflexes, hockey star. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself reaching for something you clearly can’t handle.”

“Please,” Conner scoffs, stepping closer to Elaine. “I could handle you with one hand tied behind my back.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, both of them freeze. The tips of Elaine’s ears turn pink. Conner’s smirk falters. I feel like I should look away.

Mom and Victor are watching this exchange with poorly concealed amusement. It’s like we’re all spectators at some bizarre tennis match.

“Ahem,” Mom clears her throat, eyes twinkling. “Elaine, honey, why don’t you join us? The Titans are playing your favorite team.”

“Oh, I should really get back to the bakery,” Elaine says quickly, practically shoving the recipe at Conner. “The morning rush—”

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