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“You can continue as planned. After you give me a good apology. Then I’ll help you.” I hesitate, licking my lips, debating if it helps my case at all to tell him. “I would’ve, you know. Helped you. You didn’t have to use any leverage, just asked and I would’ve.”
It feels good to tell him that. Maybe if he understands who he’s dealing with, he’ll stop acting like a grumpy, controlling ass.
“Is that a trick?” He huffs out a scornful laugh and scratches the back of his head, muttering, “Better not be.”
I lift my brows expectantly. He meets my gaze, unwavering. I’ll wait all day if I have to.
“I’m sorry. Dick move on my part.”
For the first time ever, in all the years I’ve watched Connor from outside of his luminescent bubble of popularity and fortune, he sounds genuine. Human. It’s the small reassurance I need to do this.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?”
“Yes. You may continue with your power trip.”
Connor gapes at me, suspicion bleeding into the edges of his expression.
Checking the time on the clock above the door, I frown. If I miss any more of my classes, I’ll be written up and sent to Principal Bishop’s office. Setting my bag down, I pull out a notebook and a pen, prepared to take notes.
“What kind of girlfriend am I supposed to be?”
With a tiny shake of his head, he says, “Like a normal one. Just do whatever you usually do.”
Easy for him to say.
I hold back a sigh. He’s proven he’s dangerous to spill my secrets to. I don’t want to give him another one by admitting I’ve never had a boyfriend—a real, in person one, anyway. Swallowing, I consider my old online boyfriend, even though it was brief. There’s always something that keeps me from counting him.
With my minimal experience, I don’t know how to be in a relationship, pretend or otherwise.
Thoughts fly through my head, whispering to me how I’ll fail at being a fake girlfriend as much as I would a real one. That Connor will find out how pathetic I am and probably destroy me worse for it. The ugly thoughts pick away at me, promising I’ll never be the confident girl in my secret folder, driving away my inner goddess of self-love.
Fake, fake, fake.
Sad.
Unwanted.
My throat burns and I realize the rattling in my ears is my wheezing breaths.
“Are you okay? You look…”
He’ll see it so easily.
Tossing aside my notebook, I close the distance between us in a panic. Connor’s eyes widen as he cups my elbows.
“Just how long do you expect me to put on this song and dance
with you? You never even told me when or how you want me to pretend. Just snap to it whenever you decide without an explanation.”
Yes, I sound crazed. I don’t care.
A bark of laughter drops from Connor’s lips as he looks me up and down. He rises from the stool, herding me back a step.
“That’s enough,” he growls, grabbing my hips and pinning me against a lab table. “This goes until I say so. You’re at my mercy here while I’ve got your dirty little secret in my power.”
Ignoring his alpha male bullshit, I throw my next question at him without missing a beat to stave off the thump of my pulse. The words flood out of me with no way of stopping them when I’m worked up.
