Page 17 of Fake Dating the Next-Door
Without overthinking it, I step closer, sliding one hand down her back. "For authenticity," I murmur, just loud enough for her to hear.
She nods, her gaze dropping briefly to my mouth.
I lean down, intending to keep it brief, a light peck, nothing more. But as my lips touch hers, something changes. Her mouth is soft, yielding, her body melting against mine with a sigh that I feel rather than hear.
What should have been a quick goodbye becomes something else entirely. My hand slides from her back to her waist, drawing her closer as her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt.
It lasts only seconds, but when I pull back, we're both breathing harder than we should be for such a brief kiss.
"They're gone," Sunny whispers, her eyes still closed.
I glance over her shoulder to see the taillights of her parents' car disappearing down the street.
"So they are," I agree, not stepping away even though the audience for our performance has departed.
Sunny's eyes flutter open, confusion and something warmer swirling in their depths. "Garrett..."
The spell breaks. I step back, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her again.
"Well," I say, my voice rougher than I'd like, "I think they bought it."
Chapter 7 - Sunny
"Well," Garrett says, his voice rough, "I think they bought it."
I stare at him, trying to process what just happened. That kiss was... not what I expected. Not a performance, not a quick peck for show. It was real. At least, it felt real to me. His strong hand on my waist, the way he drew me against him, the slight catch in his breath when our lips met.
But now he's stepping back, hands in his pockets, like it meant nothing. Like it was all part of the act.
Was I the only one who felt that spark? Am I imagining the tension still humming between us?
"Right," I say, trying to match his casual tone and failing miserably. "They definitely bought it. You were amazing. I mean, the whole thing was amazing. The act. The pretending."
I'm babbling again. I close my mouth before I can embarrass myself further.
"I should probably go," Garrett says, glancing toward the door. "Let you get some rest."
"Wait!" The word comes out more desperate than I intended. I take a breath, trying to compose myself. "I mean, would you like some tea before you go? As a thank you for... everything."
He hesitates, and for a terrible moment I think he's going to refuse. Then he nods once. "Tea would be nice."
I'm not ready for him to leave, not ready to break whatever fragile connection still lingers between us.
"Great! I'll just put the kettle on." I turn toward the kitchen, grateful for something to do with my hands, which seem to have forgotten how to be still.
Garrett follows, leaning against the doorframe while I fill the kettle and set it on the stove.
"Do you prefer herbal or black tea?" I ask, searching through my cabinet. "I have chamomile, mint, English breakfast—"
"Whatever you're having is fine."
I settle on chamomile, hoping it might calm my racing heart. As I wait for the water to boil, a loaded silence stretches between us.
"How did you know I was Special Forces?" Garrett asks suddenly.
I look up, caught off guard by the question. "What?"
"Earlier. With your parents. You mentioned I was in Special Forces. We never discussed that."
