Page 84 of Fumbled Into Love

I follow Nathalie into the dark kitchen, and we tiptoe around the space to keep quiet. My heart skips a beat every time her skin grazes mine.

“I think there’s going to be lots of drama in this episode,” Nathalie whispers as she pours a bag of pretzels into the bowl.

“Where did you hide those?” I ask, snagging one. “I thought we were out.”

I had to text Maren and beg her to make another batch for me. She only just lifted the pretzel ban after I groveled, and I needed a bag for the away game. I would ask for the recipe, but I think they taste better when someone else makes them.

“I’m not going to tell you my secret hiding place,” she scoffs, spinning out of my grip. “If I did, you would eat them all.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Nathalie rolls her eyes with a bemused but unbelieving smile. She pinches my ass as she passes, and I yelp. “Nathalie!” I hiss, stomping behind her as she grabs a bottle of white wine. “Stop pinching my ass.”

“Stop saying things that prompt me to pinch your ass,” she counters.

“How would you like it if I pinched your ass unexpectedly?”

My lips curl into a smug smile but quickly fall when Nathalie leans forward, displaying her ass. Her pajamas ride up, the bottom half of her ass peeking out of the horrifyingly attractive sleep dress.

I’m 90% confident this would not be considered platonic, but Hell will freeze over before I say anything about her stupidguide to casual sex. A better and more accurate name would be:Nathalie’s guide to driving Deon insane because he’s not allowed to touch her, but desperately wants to.

I’ll admit it's a bit wordy, but it gets the point across wonderfully.

My cock hardens as she peers over her shoulder, a coy smile gracing her lips. My hand reaches out when an aggressive cough cracks through the air.

Nathalie jolts. Her shoulders fly to her ears as we spin to find Nyla standing in the hallway, biting back a laugh.

“I needed a glass of water,” she says in explanation, and Nathalie’s hands fly to her face, covering the strawberry hue of her cheeks.

She pulls her dress down to cover herself and snatches the snack bowl.

“I amsosorry,” she croaks, creeping toward my room. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

With that, Nathalie flies from the room, leaving Nyla and me alone in the kitchen. She fills a glass with water and leans against the counter.

“I didn’t mean to walk in on…whatever that was.”

I cringe, but only affection fills my chest. That was not a moment Nyla was meant to see, but it made us look like a real couple.

It also felt like we were a real couple.

“She called me out,” Nyla says, sipping on her water, and my eyebrows nearly fly off my face. “At the game today.”

“What?”

“I deserved it.” Nyla waves me off. “She called you a nerd. It brought back memories, and I got a bit snippy.”

I exhale deeply. Always the protective older sister. She never liked Savannah. Always told me someone who loves me would never belittle me.

I hate how right she was, but I’m grateful Nathalie showed Nyla exactly who she is.

“Nathalie is not Savannah,” I say defensively.

Nathalie is everything Savannah was not: playful, patient, thoughtful.

“I know,” Nyla says softly, quietly. “I neverfeltSavannah’s love for you. Today at the game, I couldfeelhow much Nathalie loved you.”

The air whooshes from my lungs.

What kind of acting job did Nathalie pull off at the game?

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