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“I teased you. There’s a difference. And in sixth grade, wrong or not, that’s how I showed it. But I remember how your hair was in braids . . .” He ran a hand through the locks spilling over my shoulder and I shivered.
“And you wore this crazy yellow shirt that was bright as the sun. So bright it made my eyes hurt. And when Jason O’Neil said something that made you laugh, I was totally jealous. I wanted to make you laugh too. I wanted to bask in your light, and so I made that stupid joke about your name. But you didn’t laugh,” he said, his voice soft with the memory. “You looked hurt. And then everyone ran with it, and you hated me, and it was too late . . . So, you see, I wanted you from the beginning.”
My throat bobbed as his words tugged on my heart. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” His lips curled. “And now here we are. You fell for me anyway, only six years later.”
“You had me with that very first quote. Virginia Wolf, then Tolstoy.” My heart beat wildly with the admission, remembering my shock at those texts. “I never stood a chance.”
Topher bit his lower lip and pumped a fist in the air. “I knew secretly being a literary nerd would pay off.”
I chuckled and gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer until our noses practically touched, until I could feel the warmth of his breath and the heat from his skin. And I closed my eyes, breathing him in and drowning everything else out.
“If reciting literary love quotes to you earns me even a piece of your heart, Penelope Ewe, I’d do it forever. I’d spend countless hours searching every piece of literature for the most meaningful of quotes.”
My heart thumped and with a smile, I whispered, “Talk nerdy to me.”
I felt his hand in my hair, and then his words like fingers gripping my heart as he said, “Whatever our souls are made of, hers and mine are the same.”
“Emily Bronte,” I whispered. “Wuthering Heights.” And then he kissed me.
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FAKENOTES
Thorne Roberts is a Hollywood Adonis.
America’s teen heartthrob.
Just another raven-haired, sharp-jawed, entitled bad-boy celebrity with a pretty face. Everything I detest.
So when he comes into my family’s place of business and makes demands, I shut him down.
But now my parents are being sued, and it’s my fault. Their business and my future is at stake. So when he stares at me with those dark, brooding eyes and proposes a fake relationship to get him out of trouble and save my parent’s bakery from certain demise, I say yes.
After all, how hard can it be?
All I have to do is fake-date America’s hottest Hollywood star without getting feelings involved.
No biggie.
There’s only one problem: He’s not quite the wild child the media makes him out to be. He’s actually kind of broken and . . . sweet.
