Page 53 of Not Fooling Anyone

But what if it gets around campus that I’ll kiss anyone? Guys will line up at my door, expecting…

No, this isn’t high school. That’s not happening again. I’m older. Wiser. Stronger. Not the naive fourteen-year-old who thinks the popular jock is paying attention to her because he actually likes her.

I press a hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow down. This is college. No one cares about that kind of stuff anymore. Hell, with as many people that go to this school, most probably don’t even know who I am.

And that’s the way I want it to stay.

I tune back in to Dr. Perkins, diligently taking notes, and push all thoughts of Ethan away for the rest of the class, heading over to the Psych building for the study before three.

This time, he’s waiting on the bench outside, watching me as I approach. His normal grin lurking about his lips is absent, and all I can think of is our conversation last week. The one where he outright asked why the thought of kissing him was so terrible.

I don’t blame him for the question. Just based on his looks, he probably gets plenty of notice from girls. Savannah hit on him five seconds after meeting him. And he’s not only the jock I initially assumed he was. He’s smart. Funny. Pays attention to what I say. I practically shouted his good qualities at him that day in the library.

I nearly stumble over nothing as I realize the direction my thoughts are going. What am I thinking? He also lacks boundaries. Doesn’t take things seriously. Too cocky for his own good.

And besides all that, I’m just plain not interested.

Even if my heart speeds up as I approach him.

That’s only because I’m nervous, though. Who knows what they’ll make us do today up on the fourth floor?

He’s deceptively casual as I stop in front of him, his arms spread wide over the back of the bench, one leg crossed over the opposite knee.

“Are you ready?” I ask when he makes no movement to get up.

His head tilts as he studies me. “Are you?”

What’s he up to? Is he trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology trick on me?

I grip my backpack straps, meeting his gaze. “Yeah.”

He finally stands, not stepping to the side like he should, but directly in front of me. There’s not much space between us and I have to resist the urge to step back, especially when he moves even closer, forcing me to tilt my head up.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.

His lips twist, but not in an amused way like they have in the past. “Lexie, you look like you’re about to run scared. We’re supposed to be a couple in love.”

“I know,” I mumble, my chest tightening for some reason in response to his assessment of me. “We are in love. Upstairs.”

“If they’re watching us closely today, you can’t look like that. Can’t shy away from me. Can’t flinch.”

“I know,” I repeat. No, I don’t have the best track record in the lab of pretending everything is okay, but I can manage this.

“So show me you won’t.”

What? How am I supposed to prove it to him? “I’m next to you, aren’t I?”

“And if I do this?” He brings a hand up, wrapping it around the back of my neck.

I flinch, just like he said I would, and he drops his hand.

“We’re not in the lab,” I argue, the ache in my chest intensifying. “It doesn’t count.”

The look he gives me shows what he thinks of that.

“I’m ready now,” I tell him. “Do it again.”

He stares at me, unmoving.

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