Page 14 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“Okay, okay.” My cheeks are burning. Definitely not picturing his abs right now. “I get it. Asher’s great.”

“So why doesn’t he date?” Elaine presses. “You know him better than anyone, Isla. Any insights?”

“I . . . I don’t know. It’s never really come up.”

Which is odd, now that I think about it. He’s the kind of guy grandmothers practically compete to set their granddaughters up with. The town has probably drafted a waiting list by now. But Asher has been single most of the time I’ve known him. Sure, there were a few dates here and there, but nothing ever lasted.

Maybe he’s just too picky. Or maybe he’s married to that gym of his. Though with those arms. That back. And that criminally well-behaved butt.

Full stop. We do not evaluate our best friend’s glutes.

But I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed. There was literally a Facebook poll last summer ranking the best butts in town. Asher won by a landslide.

There was another poll a month later about the best forearms. Asher won that one, too.

“Maybe . . .” Roxanne’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Maybe you should help him find a match.”

My stomach does a weird flip. “What? No, I couldn’t—”

“Why not?” Elaine chimes in. “You know him better than anyone. And let’s face it, your business could use a win right now.”

My stomach twists. She’s not wrong, but the idea of matching Asher with someone else feels off. Like I’m betraying something, though I can’t quite put my finger on what.

Asher on a date. Asher holding hands with someone. Asher kissing—

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It would be weird.”

Elaine and Roxanne share a glance. Elaine bites back a smile while Roxanne’s eyebrow arches high. I can practically hear their unspoken conversation.Here we go again.

I reach for my water. If I keep my mouth busy sipping, maybe I won’t say something that gives me away.

“Okay, okay,” Elaine says, holding up her hands in surrender. “We’ll drop it.”

I make a mental note to revisit this idea later. When I’m alone. And can pretend I’m not thinking about Asher’s love life at all.

We finish lunch and step out into the sunshine. The late afternoon sun warms my face. I’m feeling a bit lighter after lunch with the girls, despite their ridiculous theories about Asher. We wander down Main Street, window shopping and chatting about nothing in particular until Collymore Fitness comes into view. My steps hesitate.

Asher’s probably in there right now, mid-session, in full trainer mode. The last thing I need is to see him in one of his most heart-crushing forms.

Especially when he keeps offering me free personal training sessions.

These days, having Asher as your trainer is like hitting the fitness lottery. He’s the town’s favorite, and since taking over the gym from his dad, he only takes on a handful of clients.

But it’s not lucky for me. Because stepping into that gym means stepping back into a crush I’ve been dodging since I was a teenager. I used to watch him working alongside his dad. Focused, confident, disciplined. And there’s just something ridiculously attractive about someone putting their whole heart into what they do.

My heart fell hard and fast.

I’ve spent years stuffing those feelings into a box, taping it shut, and slapping a label on it that saysDo Not Open—Friendship Zone.

Especially when it comes to gym-mode Asher. The last thing I need is to trip and fall face-first back into that crush.

I keep my eyes glued to the ground as we pass the gym, but Elaine starts waving enthusiastically.

“Hi, Asher!” she calls out, much louder than necessary.

My head snaps up. Asher is leaning casually against the front desk. His eyes catch mine, and the corner of his mouth lifts, doing that maddeningly slow curve as if he’s got all the time in the world.

My stomach flips. The feeling in theDo Not Openbox is starting to rattle the lid.

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