“Of course not. Why would you feel the need to ask?” There’s no way I’d offer to be a fake date for someone if I also had a real partner. That would be weird and border on the edge of cheating.
“I… never mind. I had to ask.” I want to press him for more information, but hold myself back.
We sit quietly for a few minutes, each of us seemingly lost in our thoughts. I’m about to suggest we watch a movie or something when he speaks up.
“Should we practice?” Covey asks, breaking the silence.
“Practice?” My voice breaks at the end of the word.
“Yeah, I’ve taken a few acting classes and had to do some stage kisses over the years. They always told us we had to practice ahead of time, otherwise it’s obvious to the audience that it’s your first time.”
That makes far too much sense, which is why I can’t think of a single argument against it. “Yeah, okay. How do you want to…”
“Maybe I’ll come sit next to you?” He slips off his chair and moves to sit next to me. Immediately, I have flashbacks to high school, sitting awkwardly next to a date, trying to figure out how to initiate something. Never thought I’d end up right back in that same position a decade later.
Especially with Covey.
“How do we—” Covey cuts me off by putting his hands on either side of my head, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.
“Can I kiss you?”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips in response to his question. My body doesn’t seem to know that this isn’t real. Instead, my stomach does a few anticipatory flips. “Yeah.” AllI can hope for is that he’s so distracted that he ignores my breathy words and trembling hands.
I keep my eyes open as long as I can, watching as he leans in and tilts his head. All I can think of is how not to screw it up. It feels like my first kiss all over again, where I can’t remember where I’m supposed to put my hands or how to keep my teeth out of the way.
At the last second, I slam my eyes shut as his lips press against mine. People might not believe it, but I never thought about what it would be like to kiss Covey. His lips are so soft, yet firm. The way he moves against me sends a slight shiver down my spine that I try to hide. A stage kiss, as he called it, shouldn’t have this much of an impact on me. Aren’t they supposed to be forced and unsexy?
He pulls away before I’m ready, and I resist the urge to chase him.
“See? Better. Now we’re ready.”
Yeah, I’m ready for something.
CHAPTER 9
COVEY
I’ve spent way too much time thinking about my kiss with Aidan.
Let me rephrase that, I’ve spent nearly every waking minute over the last few days thinking about that kiss. There was a moment after that when things felt awkward and heavy between us. Aidan looked a little bit stunned, and for a few seconds, I thought I’d screwed things up. I asked for his consent, but maybe he felt pressured? Or changed his mind in the moment? Either way, as much as I want to sell this whole charade to my family, I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.
And then, he smiled at me, and the whole world felt right.
Except for the part where I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve done dozens of stage kisses in my career and kissed plenty of guys in bars where it meant nothing more than a bit of fun. This didn’t feel like any of those. I can hardlyremember what those were even like or the names of the people involved.
Every second of that kiss is burned into my brain, playing on repeat. I can’t stop thinking about the way his eyelashes fluttered as I leaned in. The tiny gasp he let out when our lips met. The way he fell slightly forward as I pulled away.
All the things I shouldn’t remember about my friend. I’m not equipped to process all this information. And it’s not made any easier by the fact that we are, once again, at my parents’ house. Why? I have no idea. My mom invited us.
No, scratch that. She invited Aidan. I’m now the tagalong to my own childhood home. He apologized profusely for not saying no right away, but she caught him off guard at the supermarket.
The problem? I don’t want to be here. We’re already committed to two Thanksgiving dinners, three Christmas parties, and a New Year’s celebration. All amongst a lot of people I love and care about but would like to see less of. Plus, I want Aidan all to myself.
Selfish, I know.
“Oh, let me look at you both,” my mom says, rushing toward us with arms open the minute we walk through the front door. It’s been a whole week and a half since she last saw us, so I’m not sure what she thinks could’ve changed. “You’ve lost weight,” she says, eyeing me carefully. Aidan’s already grabbed our jackets to hang in the hall closet, so I’m on my own defending myself.
“I’m leaner right now, Mom. It’s fine.” It doesn’t help that the pants I’m wearing are meant to be baggy. It’s how I prefer my clothing when I’m not on stage or in the dance studio. I know she worries, but her concern can be overwhelming at times.
