Page 123 of Faking Forever 1
A ring. It’s arealring. It’s more significant than the width of my finger, but I can’t tell if it’s because it’s so big or if myfinger is just tiny. Nevertheless, it’s better than anything I would have ever thought of, even for a birthday. I couldn’t get over the painful ache in his eyes when I couldn’t say what I wanted, which was far from an “I’ll think about it.” It kills me a little. I’m stuck between staying home for someone who gave me life and choosing to put Paisley and I’s relationship on the back burner for the sake of my father—or choosing someone that I consider to be my twin flame, who I feel lifeless without and have never been more in love with.
No one has ever done half of what he did in just one night.
He pretended it was fine when I knew it wasn’t, not even bothering to make me feel guilty—which he never did with anything. Josh always has a way of explaining things that make them feel like less of a jab to the heart. Sometimes, 297
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news stings are too hard to process, but as a person, he seems to be able to make the pill easy to swallow. Even though I know he had to force himself not to breach further into the topic, we should keep our relationship to a minimum until my dad doesn’t hate me anymore. I desperately want to wear the ring, but I know I’m cooked when Dad sees it. So is Josh, whether he knows it or not.
Since that night, I’ve been lying in bed and putting it on, pretending it’s more than what it is. It’s pretty easy when I’ve known him all of my life. It doesn’t feel like I have to find out anything or delve too hard to figure him out. We’re already there. Wealready havehistory, memories, and all there is to create the perfect foundation between each other. That’s why it’s easy to imagine a future with him. It digs deep that my dad disagrees with Josh and I being together. It’s like walking on broken glass around him anymore.
I only have four days left until I’m London-bound. Sierra and Beau planned a bonfire so that I could get to have us all together one more time before I left, which, at first, was supposed to be a good time. It will most likely end up not being as good as we had hoped. Not only are Josh’s parents on another downward spiral, but apparently so is his relationship with Beau–all over this little ring. Neither of them will say anything, but I’ve never seen Josh get so bummed when bringing him up. We each offered to make cookies and pigs in blankets for the fire, and though we’re not backing out, I can tell he wants to.
He’s always being the bigger person nowadays, so much so that I’ve forgotten he used to have a shitty temperament and an awful way of handling his problems. He would rather say nothing than anything terrible, and while that’s great, I’m 298
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itching to know what he’s thinking about.
“I can’t wait to eat these. The dough smells so good,” he says, rolling a little dough ball in his hand.
I take a mini hot dog from a nearby bowl and place it on a flat slice of dough, rolling it up.
“Yeah, don’t eat them all, either. You know how you get with sweets,” I say, taking a few glances at him.
His smile was increasing with each look.
“So I have a sweet tooth. Sue me,” he responds, looking at me as he places it on the tray with the others. He takes his hand towel, wipes his hands, and trails over to me around the kitchen island.
“Hi.” I raise my eyes to look at him, placing the little wrapped finger food on my tray of others.
“Hey,” he says, leaning over my shoulder. “Lemme show you something cool.” He leans in on my back, kissing my temple softly. Leaning back, I nod, letting him do what he wants.
His arms reach around me. He takes a larger piece of dough, folds it in half, and flattens the sides to create a pocket.
Opening the pocket, he picks up a mini dog and sets it inside so that it’s sitting halfway out.
“If you tuck the little guy in the croissant dough like a little pair of pants, it leaves a bunch of dough left over for the top half, see?”
He was almost whispering—concentrating as hard as possible. “It’s like a little sleeping bag.” I giggle.
“Exactly.” He chortles quietly. But then, if you do this,” he says, lifting the extra flaps and folding them over. They look like bunny ears.
“Then it’s a little bun-bun.” He starts to hum out more 299
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trickles of little laughter, slipping it into my hand.
“And you’rejustnow showing me this?” My draw drops a smidgen, turning to look at him.
“There’s a lot of things I haven’t shown you before. How else will I find new ways to flirt with you?” He kisses my nose and I scrunch it the minute his lips touch my skin.
“Stop, you say that like you’ve been using them all our lives.”
I take my singular braided hair, twirling the end of it.
“Almost. More like since we were starting high school,” he says, leaning against the counter next to me.
