Page 75 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

wind that knocks around the branches and vines overhead. They all

look so bright out here, dimmed slightly when in town and shaded by

streetlamps and storefronts.

“You’re staying over tonight,” I exclaim at last, speaking to the moon.

Percy takes it in for a moment before replying, “One couch to

another.”

“Ainsley’s room has a bed. The comforter is a knit blanket that she

crocheted in high school. And it’s pink. But she has a nice mattress, a

TV on the wall, and I think she left behind her minifridge of sodas,

too.”

“Damn, she had a whole apartment in that room, huh?”

I smile, recalling how my social butterfly of a sister always retreated

and redecorated her bedroom like it was her shrine. She believed in

herself so much that she had the guts to leave this place, and her safe

space, behind.

I’d never have the guts to do such a thing.

“She wouldn’t mind me taking her room, right?” he asks, shattering

the tension.

“It’s my house now until the bank decides it’s not anymore, I

suppose. Go for it. She has a shower. I know my dad had some old

rock and roll tee shirts too. I can find one for you to wear if you’d

like.”

“Am I moving in?”

“We are engaged. I guess it wouldn’t be that unnatural for you to do

so.”

“I don’t need pity,” he reminds me.

“No, but you need a place to sleep and shower, and I could use the

company.”

He nods in defeat and asks, “Alright, should we get back inside,

then?”

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