Page 73 of Drop Shot
“Oh?” I lean back against the bench. “What did he want?”
With a sigh, she says, “He made reservations for us to have dinner.”
I scratch the side of my nose. “You cool with that?”
She rolls her eyes. “I wish you’d stop asking me that. I agreed to this farce, didn’t I?”
My shoulders sag. Farce. She’s right. That’s what this is. That kiss that made me feel so alive was just her playing along.
“Right.” I stand and shoulder my bag.
She frowns. “You seem mad?”
I shake my head. “Just annoyed with Jackson, but that’s why we’re doing this whole thing, so I guess there’s no point in being irritated.”
Her frown deepens.
I reach out, unable to help myself as I wrap a piece of her around my finger. I try to pull upon some of my previous cocky arrogance. “I’m going to need more of those good luck kisses for every match from now on. I played like a fucking champion out there.”
Her eyes are light with amusement, so at least I’m not pissing her off. “I might be able to manage that.”
Treacherous hope leaps into my throat.
Maybe I’m not the only one forgetting this whole thing is fake.
CHAPTER 23
WHIMSY
I haveno doubt that Jackson set up this dinner solely for the purpose of having us photographed. I’m sure we’ll show up tomorrow splashed across some sports blog where they’ll talk about the wonders of Elias’s tennis skills while discussing my looks. After all, that’s usually all those types of writers think women are good for.
Taking a sip of wine, I look around the room and take everything in. The restaurant is beautiful with a prime view of the beauty of Madrid.
Elias and I have been far too quiet if we’re being watched—which I’m sure we are.
It suddenly feels more awkward between us than it ever has and I can’t help but think it has something to do with the kiss. I mean, I was doing what I had to, right? They don’t know this is fake. It would be weird for me to refuse to kiss my boyfriend.
And Elias … the way he held my cheek, deepened the kiss, it seemed like he was into it.
But I could’ve read the situation entirely wrong.
Orhe’s concerned thatI’mfreaking out about it. Maybe he thinksI’mreading too much into it and I’m going to get confused and forget all this is fake?
I clear my throat and his warm brown eyes swing my way. “You … the kiss.” I take a fortifying breath. “I want you to know that I’m not confused about what this is. The kiss meant nothing. We’re just doing what we have to. I know this isn’t real.”
I expect to see relief on Elias’s face. The flash of hurt is not.
“Trust me, Whim. I know.” He adjusts the collar of his button down. He dressed up for our date. I did the same, of course, but for some reason I didn’t expect him to put in the same amount of effort. “I’m not upset about the kiss,” he says. “So, please erase those thoughts from your pretty little head. It was a good kiss.”
My cheeks heat and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “It was, wasn’t it?”
I want to crawl under the table and hide at my admission, but as far as kisses goes it was top tier. Maybe even the best I’ve ever had. That might be slightly pathetic that kissing myfakeboyfriend is better than any I’ve had with a real boyfriend, but I don’t care. I’m going to call it the Elias effect.
“It was,” he agrees with surprising ease.
Our food is placed in front of us and my stomach rumbles at the smell, reminding me I haven’t eaten nearly enough today. I spent the majority of my day sketching before I headed to the practice courts and when I get in the zone, I tend to forget everything else.
“If Jackson is somewhere watching us, which I wouldn’t put it past him, then we’re not doing a very good job of selling this couple thing. He might fire me.”
