Page 110 of Fumbled Into Love

“Failed you?” His tone is incredulous.

I’m just confused about what they bet on. I gave up on betting long ago. They all do it. I don’t have the money to bet on my friend's personal lives.

“I said you wouldn’t show public displays of affection,” she says, disappointed. “Sawyer said you would.”

I begin to laugh when Deon turns and smashes his lips against mine in a frenzied kiss that steals the air from my lungs. His lips curl into a cocky, victorious smile when he sees the shock on my face. Deon looks to Maren, whose jaw is on the floor.

“How’s that for PDA?” he asks.

Everyone at the table blinks.

That felt like fucking declaration.

A claim.

And 100% against rule number two.

“You don’t have to pretend around them,” I croak, trying to still my racing heart. They all know this is fake. There’s no need for stolen kisses or a claiming when every one of our friends knows this relationship is a sham.

I’m sure my eyes are wild and frantic but I’m entirely focused on Deon when his brows furrow and he whispers, “I wasn’t pretending.”

He spins away to speak to Jack and I whip my head to Maren and Sawyer trying to convey my utter bafflement through a single look.

Maren’s head tilts and Sawyer’s nose scrunches in confusion.

He’s not pretending?I mouth,What the fuck does that mean?

Sawyer shrugs, popping fried pickle chips into her mouth, but Maren’s eyes brighten like she’s discovered something.

“Are you excited to get your house back, Deon?” she asks, pulling his attention.

“Huh?”

“When Nathalie moves out after the auction,” Maren says, “I imagine your house will be much cleaner.”

“I’m not that mes—” I begin to protest, but Deon cuts me off, hand squeezingmy thigh.

“I would call it organized chaos,” he amends and my jaw falls to the floor. I was protesting, but it was in vain because I am messy. I forget to put things away and I’m not the best at organization.

Maren’s eyes narrow on Deon and I swing to find his eyes on me. I swear there’s a flicker of longing in his gaze before it’s gone.

“So, you’re going to miss her mess?” Maren presses and I kick my foot beneath the table, hoping to thwack her in the shin.

What the hell is the Inquisition about?

No need to bring up the fact I’m moving out soon. I got the call last week that my apartment would be ready in the second week of January. They apologized profusely, saying the holidays delayed the work, but all I could think was now there was a real deadline on our deal.

It was a vague reality when they told me sometime in January.

When I told Deon he grunted and left for practice.

We haven’t spoken about it since.

Deon replies to Maren with his favorite response: a grunt.

Maren’s smile morphs into something serpentine before she switches the subject entirely. “Jack and I got into a fight last week.” Jack rolls his eyes. “He ate the last of my Cheez-Its.”

“You two are always bickering about something,” Henry chimes in. “I will never enter a Crate and Barrel with you twoeveragain.” He shivers as if reliving the memory. “It’s some sort of foreplay for you two.”

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