Page 138 of Wingwoman
“Will you post it too?”
I tilted my head at Hope. “Have you not followed my account yet, you weirdo?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m not really a social media person,” she admitted with a cringe.
“Do me a favor and go look up mine.”
I watched her expression as she typed my name in the search bar, then scrolled with her thumbs. I already had three posts up with Hope at the front and center. One of us at the party last night. One picture she had no idea I snapped of her eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich over the kitchen counter post-gala. She’d looked too goddamn sexy in her little sleep shorts and tank top, but with her hair and makeup still fully done.
And then there was one other post today. From about an hour ago. I snapped a photo of Hope when she’d been laying in my lap, her hair fanned out across the denim of my jeans. Her lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks while I ran my fingers through her silky hair.
With a little smile on her face, she looked up at me. “It’s almost like I inspire you or something,” she teased.
“Oh, you inspire me all right.” I launched myself at her and she squealed. But before she could squirm away, I grasped her behind the knees and tugged so she fell on her back before I pressed my body to hers, pinning her against the couch.
Her eyes heated, softening to a honey brown as she slowly blinked up at me. “You inspire me too, Josh.”
I tilted my head. “I do?”
She gave a slow nod. “I really like you. Actually, I think I might be falling in love with you.”
My eyes flew to hers. All the blood drained from my face.
Where I should be feeling butterflies and euphoria, all I felt was dread.
Dread and guilt.
Wasn’t this what I had just been hoping for? The moment she would admit we weren’t fake. But saying we weren’t faking it versus professing her love for me were two completely different things.
I couldn’t protect her if she fell in love with me.
I couldn’t make sure she got out of this unscathed.
Her slow blink morphed into confusion. “Is that… is that okay?”
“Yes. Yes of course it is.” My voice was tight and raspy.
It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all. She was moving back to New York. And as painful as that was, as much as I wanted to keep her… I couldn’t.
Jenn was right. I would ruin her.
I tried to kiss her to mask what she so obviously could see, but even that was tight.
Pushing up from the couch, I ran a shaky hand through my hair.
I didn’t know much right now.
But I knew I had to escape her stare.
If I didn’t, I’d confess everything to her right now. Right here.
And push her out of my life to save her forever.
“I’m going to head to the studio to write,” I muttered, turning my back on Hope and grabbing my notebook.
“Now?”
Taking a slow, long breath, I turned to face her again, plastering a smile to my face. “Gotta strike while the inspiration is hot,” I said.
