Page 122 of Play Fake
She shoots me a look. “Pretty sure that included you.”
I grin. “Please. I was the only one actually paying attention.”
“Uh-huh.” She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
We weave through the crowd toward the quad, shoulders brushing every few steps. “So,” I say, “project check-in. What’s left?”
“Diagnostic methods section and finishing the slides,” she answers automatically. Of course she knows exactly what we’vedone and what’s left—she’s been the organized one from the start. “I can work on the write-up during my lunch break today if you want to handle the data tables.”
“Got it,” I say. “We’d probably already be finished if someone didn’t get distracted every time we worked on it.”
She stops just long enough to give me a mock glare. “Excuse me?”
I smirk, enjoying this way too much. “I’m just saying—there’s a pattern. You start looking at me, the productivity goes way down.”
She crosses her arms. “I’mthe one who gets distracted? You’re the one who kisses me first every time.”
She’s not wrong.
I huff out a laugh, slipping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer as we start walking again. “Okay,” I admit, kissing the top of her head. “Fair point.”
Her laugh is soft against my chest, and she leans into my side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It kind of is.
I didn’t expect this part—how easy it would be to fit her into my everyday life. How the walk to and from class, or the way her hand bumps mine as we cross the quad, would start to feel like the best parts of my day.
Her laugh is still warm against my chest, and I tighten my arm around her shoulders as we walk toward the quad. The flow of students is steady, everyone heading to their next class, but it feels like the world’s narrowed down to just us.
“You know,” I say, glancing down at her, “it’s kind of unfair. You get to call me out, but the second I lean in, you’re the one melting.”
She gasps, feigning offense. “I do not melt.”
I grin. “You absolutely melt.”
“I—no.” She stumbles over her words, cheeks pinking. “You’re the one who starts it, Harrison.”
“And you’re the one who never wants me to stop,” I shoot back, enjoying how her eyes widen just slightly.
She swats at my chest, but she’s laughing, that bright, easy sound that always knocks the air out of me a little. I catch her wrist gently, holding her there as we pause near one of the big oak trees off the main walkway.
We’re half-shielded from view—not enough for this to be hidden, but just enough for it to feel like our own little corner of the world.
I look at her. Really look. Her hair’s loose now, a few strands catching the sunlight. Her lips are parted, still curved from laughing.
And then I just…move.
My hands slide to her waist as I back her up gently against the tree, and before she can say anything else, I lean down and kiss her.
It starts soft, but it doesn’t stay that way. She fists her hands in the front of my hoodie, pulling me closer as the world fades out around us. Her mouth is warm, insistent, and everything else, the passing students, the cool air, the fact that it’s barely ten in the morning, vanishes.
When we finally break apart, we’re both a little breathless.
She blinks up at me, cheeks flushed. “I’m gonna be late,” she mutters against my chest, voice low and dazed.
I can’t help it—I laugh, leaning down to steal one more quick kiss. “Worth it,” I murmur.
She laughs softly, breath mingling with mine. “Yeah,” she says. “Worth it.”
I watch her walk away a second later, her fingers trailing along mine until the last moment. She glances back once over her shoulder, grinning like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
