Page 102 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

my hips to keep me from falling off his waist.

Somehow, we’ve ended up laying with one another in the backseat,

covered in grease and dirt, my heart furthering at the realization that

maybe Percy’s bandmates have shown up looking for him. Instead,

the taut body standing in the open door of the classic car where we

lay is someone we didn’t anticipate.

Percy sits up, setting me down in his lap while my stomach twists

and turns in my gut.

“Ryan,” I breathe. “What are you doing here?”

His face is stoic at first, like he isn’t sure how to handle the sight of us

together in the backseat. Percy, on the other hand, is partially

gleaming. It’s a quick moment before I realize this situation is all too

familiar to him. I’m not going to say it’s fair that he’s actually happy

to see Ryan perturbed by our position back here, but thinking about

Percy finding Farrah and Ryan in a backseat together isn’t okay,

either.

If anything, they’re about even in crude truth, and it’s sad to admit.

I’m happy that Percy gets his payback.

Even if it’s not exactly fair for me to make Ryan suffer. But he left

me, right? How could he suffer over this sight when he probably

woke up straddling his new fiancée after leaving me in my dark days

to deal with my father’s death?

I cling to Percy right back, watching Ryan’s hands curl into fists.

“You’ve got a garage band on your front lawn,” Ryan snarls.

Percy sits up straighter, kissing my cheek. “I’ll go talk to the guys,

darling.”

I nod, and he scoots out of the backseat and pushes past Ryan as he

skips out the open garage door. I sink into the seat where Ryan

watches me like a hawk watches a mouse. My lungs slowly close up,

and the words don’t come to my lips for a long, stringent moment.

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