Page 81 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“There was a mariachi band version?” I squeak, accidentally knocking over my pencil holder. I bend to pick them up, but bang my head on the desk.

“Ow! I mean—no, about the dating thing. The us dating thing. Which we’re not. Dating, I mean. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” there’s a low, teasing edge in his voice, the kind that pulls at something deep in my chest and makes my cheeks burn. He leans down to help me with the pencils, our hands brushing. I jerk back so fast I nearly topple my chair.

How is he so calm? Maybe he goes around almost-kissing people all the time? Is that a thing gym owners do regularly?

“Mrs. Henderson thinks you swept me onto a white stallion,” I pick up pencils carefully, making sure not to touch his hand. “A white stallion, Asher! And Sarah from the bookstore heard you proposed on top of a Ferris wheel. We don’t even have one of those! Though I guess we could build one. Not for proposals! For . . . ferrying. Wheels. Things.”

I stand up and start pacing, clutching the handful of pencils. “And that’s not even the worst part—though I guess it’s actually kind of good, in a completely unethical way, because suddenly everyone wants to book appointments, but that’s terrible because it’s all based on a misunderstanding, and I shouldn’t be benefiting from this and—”

I take a breath. “Walter Pembroke wants me back at the Annual Matchmaking Event. Co-host with Diane. He thinks my ‘personal success’—” I make air quotes, dropping pencils everywhere “—proves I’m qualified. How am I supposed to do that when I can’t even—”

My heart jumps as Asher takes a long stride toward me. Thanks to his unfairly long legs. Or maybe my office is just that small. Either way, one step and he’s in my space, his cologne wrapping around me like a slow, sneaky ambush.

“Can’t even what?” The softness in his voice makes my stomach flutter as he holds out the pencil.

“Can’t even . . .” My eyes dart from the pencil to the curve of his smile to the pencil again, searching for safe ground. “. . . organize my desk properly?”

He sets the pencil on my desk and turns to face me. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.”

I blink at him. “Not such a . . . what? Bad? Thing?” Words are hard suddenly.

“The rumors.” He comes closer and dips his head, just enough that the warmth of him lingers near my cheek. “We could lean into it.”

Chapter 21

Asher

“Leanintoit?”

“Yes.” I still hover near her ear.

“How? Like . . . or . . . I mean, what exactly are you . . . because that could mean . . . unless you’re saying . . .”

“Pretend we aredating.”

I emphasize the word dating.

“Us? You and me? Like, as a couple?” She starts to breathe faster.

I pull back just enough to check if she’s still breathing. Wide eyes. Shallow breaths. Yep, full system meltdown. Cute, though. I have to stop myself from brushing my thumb across her cheek.

“Yeah.”

I keep my voice steady, even though my pulse kicks up as last night crashes back. Like how close our lips were, and how much I want to finish what we started. But I keep it together. No point in scaring her off now.

“You and me. Let’s give the town what they want.”

“But . . . but what about—” Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, blinking fast like she’s buffering. “—everything?”

“Everything?”

The corner of my mouth pulls up before I can stop it, but I school my face into something close to serious. She’s flushed, looking like temptation wrapped in trouble. I could watch her all day and still want more.

“You know, the friendship thing and the dating thing and the rumor thing and—”

I smooth the wrinkle on her collar, watching her words stutter to a stop. Maybe it’s selfish, but I love that I can still have this effect on her.

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