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He inches closer until his body is mere millimetres from mine.
“What do you think?” The timbre of his voice has lulled me into a relaxed, dazed state, and I can only nod in response. I think it’s a wonderful idea.
He’s surprised. An expression that quickly morphs into one of anticipation. “Yes?”
I nod again and step forward so that our bodies lightly touch. Suddenly, I want this kiss more than I want my next breath.
Matthew inhales deeply, his face bending to mine. And then he stops, waiting, eyes locked on mine. He wants me to initiate this kiss.
I’m happy to oblige.
Standing on my tiptoes, I press my lips on his, a soft touch that electrifies me. I press up again, harder this time, fusing my mouth to his and he takes over. His hands cup my jawline as he angles my head just so, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue clashing with mine. Our breath intertwines and we breathe each other in. Full shivers take over my body and I can’t help the small moan that escapes me.
No kiss has ever felt this good.
Ever.
I lose track of time, space and everything in between, until Matthew lifts his mouth from mine, running the pad of this thumb over my right cheekbone, down my nose and over my lips. A barely-there caress that I feel everywhere. I keep my eyes closed, wanting to stay in this moment just a little longer.
“I’m glad we didn’t do that in public,” his gravelly voice teases me. I open my eyes to find him staring back at me; his eyes heated, his chest rising and falling erratically. I’m glad I’m not the only one affected by that kiss.
“Good night, Natalie.” He slips my glasses back on my face and presses one last kiss on my lips. So natural, like he’s been doing it forever. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
He jogs backwards down the path.
“Wait! What’s happening tonight?”
His grin is illuminated by the streetlight he’s standing under and even from here I can see how happy he is. “Tonight, I’m taking my girlfriend out on a date.”
“Fake girlfriend!” I yell at his back as he disappears into his SUV. “I’m his fake girlfriend.”
My lips tingling from that mind-blowing kiss, I open my front door and enter my house. It is all still fake. Right?
*****
The next morning, which comes altogether way too quickly given the 3 a.m. bedtime, I’m still grappling with this question. Matthew and I had agreed to be in a fake relationship to give his playboy image a break and to let the media speculation about us die down a bit (which hasn’t happened, at all), but now I’m not so sure. He’s acting all caring, and sweet, and attentive, all boyfriend-like, and my heart is greedily accepting all of these mixed signals, taking them to mean something more.
“This is why you leave fake dating to the characters in movies, Natalie!” I lecture myself, raising my thumping, sleep-deprived head off the pillow to see what time it is. It’s late by my standards, but I definitely have not reached the required amount of REM sleep cycles to help me get through the day.
“Natalia!” Yia-Yia’s voice booms down the hall. For someone so small, she sure can make herself heard.
“Are you awake?”
If I wasn’t already awake, I would be now. What’s with all the yelling?
“Coming.” I half-stumble, half-tumble out of bed. I stop to put my glasses on and inspect the damage of my late night. Hair resembles a bird’s nest—check. Mascara down my cheeks—check. Lips swollen from delicious kisses—also check. Just looking at my mouth in the mirror, all plump and thoroughly kissed-looking, has me squirming. It feels like people will know by just looking at me that I kissed Matthew Freaking Barkly. And that I’d loved it.
“What’s taking you so long?”
So impatient. “I’m coming.”
Walking like an eighty-year-old, I hobble down the hall to where both the matriarchs in the family are waiting for me. One with an excited grin. The other with a look of apprehension.
“You were on the news!” Yia-Yia, the excited one, squeals.
“I was?” Curious but also in need of coffee, I head into the kitchen, and they follow me. Instead of a fancy coffee machine, which Yia-Yia refuses to have in her kitchen, I’m forced to settle for pod coffee. Today I’m choosing a Nespresso Ristretto pod, which has the highest caffeine intensity rating, the equivalent of injecting adrenaline straight into my veins.
“You’re going to be vibrating after that one,” Mum points out.
