Page 117 of Fall Fake-Out

She sighs.

I move to the other side and do the same thing. “No Barb.”

Her throat bobs.

“It’s just us.” My lips hover at the corner of her mouth, barely there.

She doesn’t pull away.

“So why are you letting me stand close? Touch you like this?”

Her ragged breath is the only sound for a few seconds.

“Practice?” she whispers. “For when it really counts?”

I call her bluff, tightening my fingers around her hip. Her breathing changes even more. Mine does too.

“What if I wanted to kiss you when nobody was watching? Would you let me?”

The question lingers between us like the entire house holds its breath for the answer. Ari looks up at me, and I wish I knew if she felt the spark between us as much as I do.

“That’s not part of the arrangement.”

“Does everything have to be part of the deal?”

“It should be.”

“But that’s not what I asked.” The tip of my nose brushes against hers as our breaths mingle. “I asked, would you let me kiss you when nobody was watching?”

She doesn’t answer.

Not with words.

But her chin lifts.

Just a little.

And suddenly, her excuses feel paper thin.

I slowly lean in—different than how I approached the kiss on the football field. This pace is meant to be slow.

Her chest presses against mine the moment I lift my hand to the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her hair.

The space between us shrinks to almost nothing.

Her eyes flutter.

Mine start to close.

Then something crashes in the corner.

Loud and unnerving.

Ari jumps back.

I spin toward the sound, grabbing my phone off the mantel and shining the light toward the far side of the room.

Three raccoons freeze on top of an overturned chair.