Page 123 of Fall Fake-Out

“I like it.” She giggles again.

Wade reaches over and squeezes the inside of my knee. The exact spot that makes me jump.

Mia studies us. Then her little forehead wrinkles. “Is Ari your girlfriend?”

Wade answers automatically. “I wish she were my girlfriend.”

His words hit my heart like a grenade.

“You should like Wade.” Mia looks at me, and I feel my entire face go warm. She doesn’t wait for my answer before bouncing away.

I point at Wade, desperately trying to change the subject. “My turn to paint yours.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Do your worst.”

We trade places on the chair. I step between his knees so I can reach his face more easily, but now he feels entirely too close. Close enough that I notice the tiny scar near his jaw. Close enough that I notice the different flecks of brown in his eyes.

Wade’s hands rest lightly against my knees, steadying me. Or maybe steadying himself. I can’t tell anymore.

There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I spin to come face to face with my mother. Her eyes immediately fall to the paint on my cheeks—the Wade Stevenson branding.

“Oh my.” The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile as she looks to Wade. “Are you really this insecure?” There’s teasing in her voice that surprises me.

“Or am I so secure that it makes it okay?”

Her eyes flick back to me. “After you’re done here, don’t forget we’re meeting Landrie and Dad at the Maple Bar and Grill for lunch. I’m just helping Carson over at his booth, so you can meet me over there.”

“Okay.”

She starts to leave, pauses, then points at my face, the soft hints of a smile peeking through. “You should probably wash that off first.”

Then she’s gone.

I look back at Wade with a gasp. “You just keep digging your grave deeper and deeper with her.”

“Nah, I think she really liked it.” He squeezes my legs. “Besides, you’re all I care about.”

Literally, the name of the game is that he woos my mom, so his words leave me confused yet again. All I can do is pretend he never said that and start painting.

His gaze never leaves my face.

“You’re staring,” I say as the brush strokes his cheek.

“So are you.”

“Because I’m painting your face.”

“What are you painting?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I work fast because my heart’s going wild with the close proximity, and I can’t keep this pace up. After a few minutes, I finally step back. “All done.”

Wade takes the mirror. The second he sees himself, laughter bursts out of him.

Painted around his mustache are enormous, curled handlebars that extend halfway across his cheeks. Beneath them, I’ve written: ‘STACHE MAN on both cheeks.

He studies the mirror again. “I knew you secretly liked the ‘stache.”