Page 157 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I don’t know who Grace is, but I want her to be my new best friend.
Perry keeps his arm around me as we move into the ballroom. Once inside, he settles for holding my hand as we weave through the tables. At first, I think Perry is just trying to get us to one of the still-empty tables in the back of the ballroom, but then he passes several empty ones, and I half-wonder if we’re making a break for it. We do, in fact, go straight out a side door into a dimly lit garden. Only then does Perry stop and drop my hand.
He lifts a palm to his forehead before spinning around, his eyes full of anguish. “I’m so sorry, Lila. I don’t know what came over me. She was just so smug and dismissive, and—”
“Hey,” I say, stepping closer. “Whoa. Calm down a sec.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
I breathe out a laugh. “Perry, I don’t care.”
“That I just lied and told my ex-wife you’re my girlfriend?”
I shrug. “If you hadn’t said it, I would have. So we pretend we’re a little more serious than we are. Who cares?” I step closer and lift my hands to Perry’s chest. His muscles flex under my touch, but then he relaxes into me, some of the fight draining out of his shoulders. “Put your arms around me,” I say softly.
He immediately complies, his arms circling around my waist so his hands are clasped at the small of my back, but I still see the question in his eyes. “It’s dark in there, but light out here,” I say, “which means it’s likely people can see us.”
He nods. “Good thinking.”
“This doesn’t have to be a big deal. We already know we like each other. So we amp things up a little while we’re here. It isn’t a big deal.”
“People might talk,” he says gruffly. “Everyone here is from Silver Creek. Even if they don’t still live there themselves, their parents probably still do.”
I shrug. “If people talk, they talk. They’re just words. Lucky for us, we get to decide what words mean something and what words don’t.”
He smiles the tiniest smile, and a surge of victory pings in my chest. I really like making this man smile. “I still feel stupid for getting you into this mess,” he says.
I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss the side of his jaw just in front of his ear. “I think I get to spend the entire night pretending I’m Perry Hawthorne’svery seriousgirlfriend,” I say, my lips still close to his cheek. “You know what that makes me?”
His hands shift from my back to my waist where they settle on the curve of my hips. “What?” he says, his tone low and gravely.
I smile. “That makes me the luckiestwomanin the room.”
Chapter Sixteen
Perry
Lila and I windup eating dinner at a table near the back of the ballroom with a bunch of guys from the football team. They are the ones I wanted to come and see, and it feels good to get to talk and catch up. It feels a little weird lying to them about my relationship with Lila, but with Jocelyn making the rounds, “checking” on tables—I swear she’s been to our table five times more frequently than all the others—to make sure everyone has everything they need, we don’t really have much choice but to keep the story going.
Honestly, there are worse things. IlikeLila. A lot. And seeing her next to Jocelyn only confirms how much I appreciate all the things that make her different. That make herher.It’s easy to imagine us like this for real. Talking, touching.Together.
The touching is a definite bonus of our spontaneous fake relationship. I have a ready excuse to keep my hands on her. My arm around her shoulder. A hand resting on her knee or on the swell of her hip.
And she isn’t holding back either. Earlier, when my friend James was telling a story about the homecoming football gameour senior year, Lila curled her hand around my bicep, her fingers tracing mindless circles on my arm while she listened to James’s story.
The contact was maddening. Distracting. Tiny pinpricks of pleasure sending heat right to my gut where it’s still simmering, ratcheting up my attraction to Lila at an alarming rate.
“Are you having fun?” Lila leans close as the waitstaff clear away our dessert plates.
I nod. “Thanks to you.”
She smiles. “I like your football friends.”
“I think they like you.”
She shrugs. “It’s my superpower.”
“Getting football players to like you?”
