Page 75 of Fake As Puck
“Right. The evidence.” He smiles as he says it like this is a game to him.
I grab my toiletry bag from the bathroom and start adding travel-sized versions of everything I might need. Face wash, moisturizer, makeup remover, the expensive mascara that doesn’t smudge.
“You’re very thorough,” West observes, watching me organize everything into neat compartments.
I glance at him, enjoying his company as he analyzes everything that I will be bringing. It feels intimate and like we’re getting to know each other. “I came prepared.”
I pack another bikini, tossing it into the suitcase without really thinking about it.
When I look up, West is very carefully not watching me pack swimwear.
“It’s another swimsuit, so don’t freak out. We might not even need them,” I say. “But the hotel has a pool, so...”
He nods. “Yeah, it’s good to have options.”
I press my lips together, holding in my smile. “Exactly.” I zip the suitcase closed and set it by the door. “I’m ready.”
He nods once, standing, and I glance up at his face. He’s been my teenage dream ever since I could remember. My heart starts racing, and a piece of me wishes that he would just kiss me already. I can tell he’s thinking it. There’s no way that he’s not, right?
I mean he’s standing there staring at me, dumbfounded. Neither of us knows what to do next, but let’s say he kissed me… then what? We’re not skipping into the sunset while holding hands. I have my life back home. He has hockey camp or something like that starting next week. I don’t know how we fit, so I want to save myself the heartache.
I am well-aware that all this tension, all this back-and-forth thing in my head is not good, but the reality is that it’s not the right time, and I have to be okay with that. I can’t kiss him. I can’t let him make a move. Everything right now is perfect. We will only complicate things if either of us pulls a move. The tension is so thick, I don’t know what to do, so I break it.
“You should pack,” I say, nodding.
He nods, too. Oh, great. This is getting awkward. “Yeah, definitely,” he says, still nodding.
He leaves the room, and I stand still for a moment, trying to understand the realization that just dawned on me.
I can’t complicate things further by wishing he would kiss me, so that stops right this second. He’s already sent me the five-hundred-dollars for this week, and that’s what I need to remember here. He’s paying me for this.
I hear his bedroom door shut, so I close mine and sit on my bed.
I remind myself that the only way out is through.
20
We’re fifteen minutes into the drive when I realize I’m gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me anchored to reality.
Which is ridiculous, because it’s just a road trip. Just me and Liv driving down the coast to a wedding where I’ll see people I haven’t talked to in years and pretend everything in my life is exactly as perfect as it looks from the outside.
No pressure.
“You okay?” Liv asks, looking up from her phone where she’s been building what she calls “the perfect road trip playlist.”
“Yeah. Fine. Just concentrating on driving.”
“It’s a straight shot down I-5, West. You could drive this with your eyes closed.”
“Safety first.”
“Safety first,” she agrees, but there’s amusement in her voice.
She’s wearing jeans and a soft green sweater that brings out her eyes, and her hair is down in waves that keep catching the morning light streaming through the passenger window. She looks comfortable. Relaxed.
Meanwhile, I settled on a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled up, but now I’m second-guessing it. Does it look too formal? Too casual? Too much like I spent twenty minutes thinking about what would make me look good for her?
“Music?” she asks, holding up her phone.
