Page 88 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

I stare at the words, my throat burning. I want to scream, to block his number, to pretend he never existed. But part of me, the part that still misses him, won’t let me.

ISLA

I don’t know.

DAD

I understand. I’ll be here, if you ever want to meet.

I’m sorry.

I drop the phone beside me, pulling my knees to my chest. The room’s too quiet, and my head’s too loud. I don’t know what I want, but I can’t stop staring at his words, wondering if they mean anything at all.

Chapter 23

Isla

“No,no,absolutelynot.”

Elaine tosses another dress onto the growing pile on my bed. “You are not wearing a cardigan to Couples’ Bingo Night. This is your debut as Frosthaven’s hottest new couple!”

My bedroom looks like a clothing tornado tore through it. Dresses, blouses, and skirts strewed across every surface, helpless casualties of Elaine’s relentless quest for the perfect outfit.

“It’s not a debut,” I protest weakly. “It’s just bingo. With Asher. My friend.”

“Exactly why you need to remind him you’re a woman, not just his friend.” Elaine emerges from my closet with a triumphant “Aha!” and a dress I forgot I owned.

Roxanne takes a bite of the cookie Elaine baked, lounging far too comfortably in my mint sofa chair.

I stare at the cookie in her hand, silently willing her to not leave crumbs on my favorite piece of furniture. That mint sofa chair is practically sacred territory. Asher found it for me at an estate sale last year when I mentioned—once, mind you, in passing—that I was looking for something comfy but not beige. Two days later, he texted me a picture with the caption, “Mint condition. Literally.” I nearly hyperventilated from excitement.

She swallows the rest of the cookies. “I think what Ellie means is that just because this is pretend doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.”

“Exactly!” Elaine spins toward me, eyes gleaming. “When was the last time you actually dressed up for a date?”

“Kyle’s birthday last—”

“Kyle doesn’t count,” they said in unison.

“Okay, but Asher doesn’t count either.” I sigh and flop back onto my bed. “And I made a list of rules.”

Elaine pulls out another dress, barely glancing up. “Of course you did. Let me guess. Rule number one: No falling in love with the ridiculously attractive best friend who’s clearly been in love with you since the dawn of time?”

“Are you guys going to kiss?” Roxanne raises an eyebrow like she’s conducting a very serious investigation.

“I bet they are.” Elaine says.

“Oh my goodness. You guys. I amnotgoing to kiss Asher.”

And I won’t think about it. Definitely not about how close we were to actually kissing. Because that’s the line—theline. Once I cross it, there’s no going back.

Although . . . for purely scientific purposes, it would be nice to know. You know, just for the data. Research is important. Would he be the slow, teasing type? The kind to take his time, dragging it out, savoring every second? Or would he go all in, like a man on a mission, kissing me like I’m the last oxygen source on Earth and he’s been stranded in space for a very long time?

I’ve always thought soft and sweet would be my thing, but . . . a little intensity never hurt anyone, right? A firm hand on the waist? A teasing graze of his fingers? Maybe a little breathless whisper of my name in between—OH MY GOSH, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

And how do I even respond? Stay perfectly still, like I have excellent self-control and am definitely not affected? Or do I kiss him back the way I want to, like I’ve been secretly thinking about for way too long? What if I mess it up? What if I look like a fish gasping for air? What if I—oh no.

What if I suck at kissing?

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