Page 47 of The Fake Date Agreement

My urge to smack this guy in the face grows ten-fold.

“Hey, man. That play you did Friday was awesome,” he says to me.

I give him a cold smile. “Sure.”

He stares at me.

“You’re in the way,” I tell him.

He frowns. “I don’t…”

“You’re in the way of Tobie, my girlfriend.”

He laughs. “But she…”

I step up to him, my fake smile falling away. It takes everything in me not to put this guy on the floor with an uppercut to the jaw after what I just overheard. “Shewhat?”

He backs up and to the side. “Nothing.”

And I step around him, slide my arm around Tobie, and dip my head to kiss her.

I’m not sure what possessed me to do it. None of us said anything about this fake dating relationship coming with kisses—real or pretend.

Who the fuck am I kidding? I’d been wanting to kiss her since we arrived at this party.

Her lips are softer than I was expecting. And the squeak of surprise that morphs into a moan tunnels deep inside me.

More than that.

She kisses me back, so what was meant to be a quick peck on the lips to convince the prick at my back he fucked up big time, throwing Tobie away, turns into something more.

When we break apart, her plush lips are rosy, eyes wide, and pupils dilated.

I’d forgotten all about the fool who was making Tobie feel like shit until he clears his throat.

I look to my left.

Marc is still standing there. Staring.

“Did you want something?” I ask.

His eyes bounce from me to Tobie as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “No. I just…”

“Cool.” I flash him another insincere smile and turn my back on him to focus on Tobie. “You want to grab a drink, or are you ready to go home? Caleb is sick of the party, and Javier is bored.”

I don’t hear Marc leave, but when Tobie’s shoulders relax, I assume he must have. But I don’t take a step away from her even though I have no reason to be standing so close.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“For?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and I wonder why I didn’t smack that prick when I had the chance.

I pull her into my arms, a place where she feels like she’s always been, and I breathe in the sweet rose scent of her hair.

Several minutes later, she sniffs. “I’m sorry I cried. I didn’t think it would still hurt.” Her voice is muffled by my shirt.

I stroke her back. “Feelings are raw. No need to apologize for feeling.”

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