Page 96 of Bookworm

Oh well, I hadn't expectedhim to react the same way. Bo wasn't the one currently fighting back feelings. My fake boyfriend was a master of detachment.When we were switching classes for the last time, I decided to try mirroring his unreadable expression, hoping maybe his serious vibe would rub off on me.

But when Bo looked at me, he blinked.

"What's that face?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Just trying something new."

"No."

"No?" I repeated.

He shook his head. "That's not you, Kent. Stop it."

"Why?"

"You're scaring the freshman."

"Ha ha," I said.

"Seriously, stop," he said.

"Mad that I stole your look, Stryker?"

When we got to my final class of the day, he'd turned to me and waited until I met his gaze.

"I'm not mad," he said.

I tilted my head.

"It's just…why would you want to be anyone else?You're you, and that's good."

Placing my hands on my hips, I said, "Seriously? No cracks about me being fake or smiling too big, too often?"

Bo just shook his head. "I never said that."

"Oh yeah, that's just other people."

"Who cares what they think?"

Bo pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and I felt my detached expression melt away. It was impossible to remain blank. He'd literally just made my day. I'd always wondered what that would feel like—someone besides me brushing the hair behind my ear—and it was just as magical asI'd imagined.

"There," he said, watching as my lips curved into a surprised smile. Bo's own lips kicked up a bit at the corner. "There you are.Screw the haters. Youdo you, Kent."

"Wow, Stryker," I said, feeling myself staring and trying to shake it off. Voice quiet, I added,"You're really selling the whole fake boyfriend thing."

Lips fallinginto a straight line, Bo took a step back. "Yeah," he said, "yeah.You coming to the game later?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

Bo nodded.

"Good luck," I said, but he was already walking away.

After working at the library and flower shop, I had just enough time to go home, get ready, pick up Scarlett, and drive to the game. We made it on time. But Scarlett—who'd always hated being late to anything—was still grumbling as we made our way to the stands.

"What if there are no seats left?" she said.

"We'll find seats," I replied.

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