Page 50 of Faking It with the Forward

I start my walk across campus and press call on my phone. Ruby doesn’t even say hello, just launches into, “What the hell do you mean you slept in Reese Cain’s bed?”

“Exactly what I said. I slept in his bed—although, for the majority of the night he didn’t.”

“Explain, and I mean everything.Allthe details.”

I tell her what happened. Well, sort of. I start with running into Ethan, to finding out that Nadia screwed up the tickets, and then thinking that Reese had known about it. I tell her that he was a gentleman, offering to sleep on the chair until he fell, and I was worried he’d injured himself. I leave out the finer details of how this is all just a ruse; fake dating to get Shanna off his back, and in exchange he’ll give me confidence lessons.

“Did anything else happen?” she asks, knowing me well enough to assume I’m hiding something.

I look around, making sure no one is nearby, and whisper, “He kissed me.”

She sighs, clearly not impressed. “Well, it’s not the first time, right?”

No, but… “It was different, and then things kind of escalated.”

“Twy,” she says, her tone cautious, “did you have sex with him?”

“Oh my God, no!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you, it’s just…”

“I know,” I say, fully aware that sex was part of why my relationship with Ethan ended up disastrous. “It didn’t get that far. And again, he was a gentleman and stopped it before it went too far.”

But what if he hadn’t stopped? Because I sure as hell didn’t have any plans to, or at least, my body didn’t. I was into the kissing. Because fuck, Reese Cain can kiss with the same level of skill that he can handle a hockey stick. Absolute precision. And then there’s his body, which is unreal. Not just the muscles, although those are ridiculous, but the way he moves. He’s confident. Determined. Powerful. Since when am I into commanding, muscular men?

I’m not. Reese isn’t my type.

Temporary insanity is the only excuse.

“Wow, really?” Ruby says as I cross into Shotgun. “And by too far you mean… a hand job? Blow job? Oh shit, did he go down on you?” She’s basically vibrating through the phone waiting for confirmation.

“I’m hanging up,” I threaten, trying desperately not to think of Reese between my legs.

“So no oral.” She sighs again. “Too bad, with that strong jaw, I bet it’s spectacular.”

He’s good at everything. Why wouldn’t he be good at pleasing a woman?

“Goodbye, Ruby,” I say, walking up to the teal house.

“Keep me posted!” she shouts before I hang up on her.

Entering the house, it’s immediately obvious that Nadia came back at some point. There’s a mess in the kitchen sink and protein powder all over the counter. Anxiety fills my chest, not sure if I want to see her yet. I suck it up and peek in her room. Nothing about it has changed since I was there that morning.

Obviously, she doesn’t want to see me.

I exhale, realizing that for the first time in years, I don’t want to see her either.

* * *

It’s not until the next weekend that Reese tells me to set aside the afternoon for whatever he has planned. He told me to dress casually, and that he’d pick me up at ten. Casual isn’t a problem for me, but I’ve made one notable change to my wardrobe since the night I slept over. No more athletic bras and boy shorts. If my goal is a boyfriend, I need to at least dress the part. Well, at least under my clothes. Not that Reese seemed to have a problem with it, but... yeah, it’s time to break out one of the matching sets Nadia forced me to buy when I was dating Ethan.

Nadia finally came home about forty-eight hours after our fight. We didn’t speak, and all she did was shower and change before packing a bag and walking out again. She hasn’t blocked me on social media yet, and it’s obvious where she’s spending all her time: Brent Reynolds’ house.

I sit on the front step tying my shoes when I see Reese at the end of the sidewalk. He pauses, watching me for a moment, and I see the muscle in the back of his jaw flex.

“Hey,” I say, rising.

“I was wondering where that went.” His eyebrow is raised and he’s looking at my sweatshirt. Well,hissweatshirt. The number fifteen is imprinted over the chest and again on the back along with his name. I’d taken it with me when I’d absconded from his house before dawn. It’s soft and has that scent I can’t get enough of.Hisscent.

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