Page 48 of Fall Fake-Out

“No offense,” I say casually, even though I’m fully enjoying this now, “but Ashtyn said herself that you’re not a threat to her. The girl has no boundaries. She’s not going to care that I have a girlfriend.” My gaze drifts slowly over her face before settling back on her eyes. “But I’m happy to play along to get your mom off your back. Because that’s what good friends do.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She holds up one hand between us, but she’s smiling now in that dangerous way she gets before she verbally assaults me. “You don’t think I can get rid of Ashtyn for you?”

“I mean…” I step closer. “I had hoped, but I don’t think you can really pull off this fake-dating thing.”

“Um, did you not see what just happened in my kitchen?”

“That was because you were angry. In normal circumstances at school, you’ll crack under pressure. Or say it’s too weird because we’re friends.”

Her brows lift slowly.

Then she takes one deliberate step forward, straight into my space, until there’s barely room between us.

And there she is.

The version of Ari I remember best. The version I like best.

Competitive.

Defiant.

All fire and bad ideas.

“And you think,” she says softly, “you’ll be able to get my mom on board with you?”

Cockiness ripples through me automatically as I stare down at her. “Oh, absolutely.”

“She hates you.”

“She thinks she hates me.” My eyes drag meaningfully over her lips before meeting her stare again. “Big difference.”

“Should we bet on it?”

That gets my full attention.

“Like…”—my grin spreads slowly—“who will be the better fake boyfriend or fake girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” She lifts her chin, but she doesn’t back away. “Like, who will yield better results.”

I laugh under my breath. “I do love winning.”

“Careful.” Her smile tips. “I don’t think you remember how competitive I can be.”

“Oh, I remember. I just don’t care. That’s how confident I am.”

“Fine. Here are the terms.” She points at me, but her finger lands against my chest accidentally—or maybe on purpose, but neither of us moves it. “You need to convince my mom you’re an acceptable boyfriend⁠—”

“I am an acceptable boyfriend.”

“You’re a human red flag in P.E clothes.”

“That feels exaggerated.”

She ignores me. “And I need to make Ashtyn back off without turning your life into a Dateline special.”

“Is there a deadline?”

“Obviously.” Her finger presses harder against my chest before finally dropping away. “It’s whoever does it first.”