Page 40 of Written in the Stars
So had Darcy, only the words, a simpleso did Istuck in her throat when the light from the streetlamp hit Elle’s eyes. Her eyesweren’tjust blue, but gray, too, silvery striations winding out from a storm cloud center that hugged her pupils.
“We should kiss,” Darcy blurted.
Elle’s eyes doubled in size.
Darcy knew better, knew that kissing Elle was a terrible idea. It couldn’t lead to anything, Darcy wouldn’tletit lead to anything. And yet something inside her, some tiny, illogical part of her rebelled at the idea of never getting a taste of Elle. Even though that’s all it would be. One taste.
The overwhelmingly rational part of her needed to explain, to justify this, apply logic to an altogether illogical desire. “My brother’s probably watching.”
Elle wrinkled her nose. “Is that supposed to make me want to kiss you?”
No, but that made this less dangerous. The odds of getting injured on a roller coaster were slim. They were well-designed, tested. There were seat belts and safety precautions in place. As far as risks went, it wassafe. This was a safe risk because if this was all fake, there was no chance of Darcy falling.
She laughed, the sound warbling in her throat. “I mean, he’s probably expecting it.”
Elle dropped her eyes to the ground, to the small bit of space between them. Her tongue darted out, wetting her already shiny bottom lip, licking off some of her gloss. Darcy was dying to taste her. “Right. Sure. You should—” Elle cleared her throat and lifted her head, eyes sparkling under the amber glow of the streetlight. “You should really sell it then.”
Darcy stopped thinking about Brendon and stepped closer to Elle, erasing the distance between them. She lifted a hand, commanding it not to shake as she set it on the dip of Elle’s waist, drawing her in until their knees knocked gently.
Don’t think.
If she were lucky, the kiss would be terrible and she’d neverwant to do it again. The unsettling burning in her chest would fizzle out and all would be restored to normal, the world righted, back on its axis.
Leaning in, she brushed her lips against Elle’s and it was like striking a match, that spark she’d refused to acknowledge catching flame with the slightest friction of lips on lips.
It was mutual, it had to be, because Elle gasped, lips parting and turning what was supposed to be afucking stage kissinto a frenetic exploration, wild and charged. Suddenly Elle’s fingers, those fingers that had touched the spines of all of Darcy’s books and left smudge marks on her coffee table, were buried in Darcy’s hair, pulling her closer and keeping her there.
Darcy stumbled, vertigo making her head spin, and backed Elle into the wall beside the building’s door. Had it not been for Elle’s hands in her hair and the snug press of their bodies, Darcy might’ve crumbled at the hot, wet drag of Elle’s tongue against the edge of her bottom lip. Still, a shiver skittered down Darcy’s spine, her knees weakening.
Darcy tilted her hips into Elle, triggering an intense pulse inside her. Something snapped, want overriding everything else. She pressed Elle firmly against the wall and tasted the blunt edges of Elle’s teeth, dipped her tongue deeper, traced the roof of Elle’s mouth and dropped her hands, palming Elle’s hips when Elle shivered and melted. Sweet, Elle’s lips tasted like strawberries and her tongue like peppermint. Darcy wanted more, was suddenly greedy for a taste of—
Reality crashed down on her in the form of someone laying on a car horn. Elle rolled her lips together, eyes flitting away.Darcy turned, glaring at the car where her brother was hanging out the window, grinning stupidly.
“Get a room.” He winked.Triedto wink.
Brendon was getting fucking socks for Christmas. Boring, black, argyle ones.
Darcy turned back to Elle who was chewing on the corner of her lip. Darcy’s stomach flipped, not because the world had righted itself and the sudden adjustment was jarring. No, everything had gone pear-shaped, worse than before because now that she’d had a taste of Elle, she wanted another.
Chapter Nine
Darcy wasn’t good at this, gift-giving. Not under normal circumstances and this was anything but normal.
What were you supposed to give someone you were fake dating, someone you weren’t supposed to like, but were finding yourself increasingly—and worryingly—fond of? Someone you couldn’t get out of your head no matter how hard you threw yourself into work, someone whose laugh you couldn’t quit hearing inside your head, whose lips you could swear you could still taste, even days later? Darcy was pretty sureCosmodidn’t offer a gift guide for the niche category of fake girlfriends. Go figure.
Whatever it was, the gift needed to saycongratulationswithout being over the top, and it needed to be something Elle would actually appreciate. An interesting challenge because as a general rule, Darcy usually refused to gift anything that she, herself, didn’t like. But Elle’s taste was so...distinctthat Darcy needed to think outside the box.
Which was why she was standing in the middle of Northwest Beer and Spirits staring not at the prized Napa cabernets, but at the—she repressed a shiver—boxed wines.
A five-liter box of Franzia sunset blush cost eighteen dollars and twenty-eight cents. The box proclaimed there were thirty-four glasses inside, making each five-ounce glass approximately fifty-four cents.Fifty-four cents. Less than a dollar for a glass of wine.
Darcy frowned at the box. Her wallet liked those numbers, but something about paying that little for wine felt... unreal. Like someone was going to pop out from the other side of the shelf and shove a camera in her face and tell her she’d been punked before slapping her with a fifty-dollar bill.
Darcy depressed the handle and lifted, cardboard cutting into her fingers. Maybe it was cheaper than dirt, but it was heavy as lead. Couldn’t they at least try to make the design a bit more ergonomic? She’d have paid five more dollars for better packaging alone.
Inside her coat, her phone buzzed. If that wasn’t an excuse to set the box down, she didn’t know what was.
Annie.
