Page 128 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

Now I’m positive I should have asked more questions and demanded

a similar reply from her that Leah just offered me without any

prodding. It was as easy as that, and I wasn’t worth that to her.

My mind is in a frenzy over how simple it was for Leah, but I digress.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” I add, watching her

retreat to the kitchen. She pours us both a glass of iced tea out of a

pitcher, and I get ready for my tongue to curl at the sugary taste

when I take the glass from her. The woman loves her sugar. “It’s

about the band and our practice today.”

“Yeah, it seemed like it ran longer today.”

“The bar paid us for our show this past week,” I add as an

afterthought. “But, while we were taking our cash, a guy comes in

and says he heard about us from the show we did last week. The one

where you and I had…”

“Gotten engaged,” she breathes, both of us still stunned by that twist

of fate. “What about it?”

“Well, he said he wants to book a few shows for us at these bars he

owns in Fayetteville.”

“Wow, that’s almost four hours away,” she whispers, setting her glass

down.

I do the same to my cup, coming to meet her in the kitchen. I hold

her face in my hands, just to feel her smooth, kiss-worthy cheeks in

my palms. “It wouldn’t be until after the wedding, Leah. I wouldn’t

leave you out to dry like that.”

Even with that assurance, she doesn’t seem relieved.

Still, she copies and pastes a smile on her face that was on my face

originally, and it’s fake. It’s there in support, but it’s so fake it should

come with a knockoff sticker.

“What is it?” I ask, maintaining her face stays upright so she can’t

just look away and escape this.

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