Page 51 of The Fake Date Agreement

I slap his hand away. “No.”

“Come on,” he cajoles with a boyish grin. “I want to hear your laugh again.”

“It’s a ridiculous laugh. No.”

“It’s a cute laugh.” He pursues me as I move away from his hands.

Something very important suddenly occurs to me. I’m on the ice, and I haven’t broken through it and fallen to Australia. I beam at him. “I’mskating!”

As if gravity were waiting for that moment, my left leg goes one way, my right the other, and before I can scream, I’m clamped against Reid.

“I’ve got you.”

I wish he would continue to have me because pressed up this close is incredible.

His eyes are half-hooded as he continues to skate until we bump against the side of the rink. “You feel good in my arms, Tobie.”

“Do I?” There’s a tremble in my voice.

“You do. I’m wondering if you would feel the same way in my bed.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water flung into my face.

My smile turns cool. “That’s nice. Can you let me go now?”

A line forms between his eyebrows. “Why’d you stop smiling?”

“No reason.” I try to escape, but it’s hard to do when I’m on the ice, can’t skate, and a six-foot-three guy has a hold of me.

“Something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” I snap.

Silence.

I clear my throat. “I meant to say that I have an appointment I need to get to.”

His eyebrow nearly disappears into his hair. “Uh-huh. What’d I say?”

“Nothing?”

“You don’t like me flirting with you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He’s suddenly serious. “If there’s something I’m doing you don’t like, tell me. I’ll quit.”

“No guy just quits.”

“This one does.”

He waits.

I huff. “Okay, fine. You’re a jock, and jocks flirt with pretty girls. You’re only pretending to think I’m pretty. Can you not bother with flirting when it’s just us? No one is around, so there’s no point.”

He stares at me like he can’t believe he has to say this. “You think I’mpretendingto think you’re pretty?”

“Yes.”

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