‘You’ve got to admit it was fun,’ he says, folding his jeans.
I’ve had enough time away from the incident to cycle through a flurry of emotions. I went from joy to confusion to a sprinkle of something I dared not focus on, especially after our kiss. But I have settled on worry. I can’t think about fun. I’m too focused on the worst-case scenario.
‘Timothy follows me online! He’ll know we lied. What if he posts it all over the internet?’ I ask.
Noah shakes his head with no fear. ‘Last thing he’ll want to do is shout about a beautiful girl rejecting him. And follow-wise,just block him. I guarantee you, once you’re out of sight he’ll forget about you in like, less than a week.’
My chest lightens ever so slightly, my mind freed of my worries quickly enough to digest Noah’s last sentence.
‘Less than a week? You think I’mthatforgettable?’
He pauses his packing to stare across at me, into my eyes. My pulse quickens.
‘I wouldn’t have got down on one knee for someone I thought was forgettable, Amorie,’ he says gravely.
My mind drifts back to the kiss – to his hands on my waist and the way he stared at me as he confessed his love. It was fake – I know it was – I was in on the joke, but I know the way my heart fluttered. That wasn’t so false.
‘Even as a joke?’ I ask, my mouth going dry.
‘Even as a joke,’ he says, smile gaining some levity. ‘Speaking of, any chance I could get that ring back? I wasn’t joking about those being real diamonds.’
I wiggle my beautifully bejewelled finger in the space between us as he shuffles closer to me. Our eyes meet again as he closes his warm hand delicately around mine. His fingers stroke softly down my skin as he slides the ring off, leaving a trail of goosebumps in place of everything he touches. It’s unbearably slow. Excruciating, even. My breathing halts until the ring is back in his hand.
‘Wow, that fit perfectly.’ He tucks it back in his pocket. ‘Guess it’s a sign we’re meant to be.’
He needs to stop winking. It’s not good for me. Not when the two of us are meant to be friends. I need to focus on something else... like a story.
‘So, do you make a habit of carrying engagement rings round with you?’ I ask.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he mumbles as he scoots back to his duffle.
There he goes again, closing up before we’ve made real progress. I sit up straighter.
‘Okay, so there’s definitely a story . . .’
‘Or I could just be done with this conversation.’
I start to guess. ‘Did you steal it? Win it in a bet? Were you previously engaged?’
‘Drop it, Am,’ he says brusquely.
The weight behind his words takes me aback, casting a stale and uncomfortable silence around the room. He notes it instantly, looking over my shocked face with concern, before glancing down and softening.
‘It’s honestly not worth getting into.’
I nod silently and go back to folding my clothes. So much for my light distraction.
‘Right, I need to get a move on. I have a date in an hour and I wanted to shower first,’ he says, checking his watch.
‘Tonight? Since when?’ I ask.
Again, with the secrets. We’ve spent so much time together and notoncehas he mentioned any upcoming dates. It stings a little. I dip my eyes back to my case and fold my maxi-skirt in four.
‘You’re not the only one with a life, you know,’ he says teasingly.
‘Yes, but I’m apparently the only one that seems to share with the class,’ I say softly.
I wonder how many other secret dates he’s been on, because clearly if he can keep this one hidden then he could hide anything. The man sits me down at least twice a day to debrief after my dates, or to discuss strategy for my next ones, and he couldn’t find one spare moment to let me know that he plans to go on a date of his own?
