Page 34 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

“I get a little frustrated at the cars sometimes,” I breathe, keeping my

eyes far, far away from that save-the-date card. “Besides, throw out

that card. I don’t need it because I’m not going.”

“I understand that.”

He sits up straighter after a long moment of thought, his eyes

brightening with his body straightening in posture. I can just about

see the lightbulb turn on over his head.

“What if I had an idea that would distract everyone from us,

though?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We get together and go to the wedding as a couple.”

The wrench I didn’t know I was holding falls to the floor, nearly

hitting the edge of my boot as it hits the ground in a loud, clanking

sound. I jump away from it in shock, hoping it covers the leaking

look of disgust and utter humiliation that crosses my features.

I’m warm and cold at the same time.

Ice cold water runs through my veins, my body stiff and sore—

unwilling to move.

But the heat in my face is like the sun is staring me right in the eyes,

just inches from my nose, while little bursts of solar flares kiss and

tingle my cheeks. I feel like I’m being burned on the outside, digging

at least two inches deep until it hits the frozen layer, crystalizing

inside of me.

“Get the fuck out,” I breathe, shaking my head. “It’s bad enough I

have Ryan taunting me that his four-month relationship trumps our

decade-long relationship. I don’t need you to come in with this funny

edge to you, digging the knife in my back even deeper.”

His brows pinch. “Excuse me? I am not trying to make things worse.”

“But you are,” I hum. “Please, I think you should leave.”

SAY TOO LITTLE, TOO OFTEN

---