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“Aw, nice try, princess.”
She scrunches up her nose as she takes a sip of the slushy. “Let’s go again.”
I steal the slushy from her. “You know how many completed passes I made today during practice alone?”
This time, she goes for the same basketballs I do, bumping into me and trying to mess up my stance. What a little sabotager. I still beat her, but only by two points this time, and we’reboth laughing by the end. She leans into me and I wrap my arm around her automatically, squeezing her hip.
“Let’s bet this time,” she says. “If I win, you cash in your tickets and get me one of those stuffed animals.”
I rub her hip, resisting the urge to tuck my hand underneath her tank top. “And if I win?”
She pretends to think, tapping her finger against her chin. “I’ll give you a kiss.”
That piques my interest. We’ve been affectionate with each other when we’re in public, but we haven’t truly kissed since outside McNamara’s, and I’ve been thinking about doing it again an unfair amount. The relationship might be fake, but the kisses sure as hell haven’t been. Iknowhow much I affect her.
“Deal, princess.”
Fifteen minutes later, she’s clutching a stuffed bear to her chest, and I’m still sulking.
She giggles as she takes in my expression. “Aw, babe. You look like you need cheering up.”
“A kiss would help.”
She reaches up and kisses me on the cheek. “Better?”
I hold her in place before she can slide away, crushing the poor stuffed animal between us. She named it as soon as I put it in her arms—Albert. Why, I have no idea, but it was almost worth losing to see her smile.
Almost.
I give her a proper kiss, running my tongue over the seam of her lips. She gasps, opening her mouth, letting our tongues meet. By the time I pull away, my heart is pounding, and if her blush is any indication, she’s feeling the same way.
I wink. “Now I’m better.”
Chapter 14
Bex
I adjust my ponytail as I wait for James to answer his front door. Before him, I never worked as a tutor, but I’m pretty sure the job usually doesn’t involve dinner reservations after. But here I am, laptop and writing handbook nestled into my tote bag alongside a dress and change of shoes.
My life issoweird now.
It turns out that even when you’re fake dating, it leads to a lot of texting and hanging out. In the past couple of weeks, James has sent me Snaps of himself at practice, FaceTimed me while his brothers battled it out on Super Smash Bros, and texted me an unfair amount of cute animal videos. He calls the latter “happiness hits,” which is more adorable than it has any right to be. Last week we went to an arcade together, where I totally owned his ass in Pac-Man, and he’s developed a habit of showing up to the Purple Kettle when I’m working to say hi and buy a coffee.
And honestly? As much as it scares me, I kind of love it.
The first time he texted me out of the blue, I assumed it was to ask a question about our latest writing assignment for class. And that was part of it—but not before he asked me how I was doing. I’d been at the diner, so I told him all about the latest drama about a supplier falling through, and he shared about how practice went for him.
It was almost enough to feel real, which is why I shut it down.Now, we just chat for a bit before he asks me something class related.
The door opens, but it’s not James who greets me. Cooper gives me a grin. “Hey, Bex. James is upstairs.”
I eye him. “Why are you shirtless?”
He shuts the door behind me as I step inside. “Why not?”
I haven’t known James’s brothers for very long, but ten minutes in Cooper’s presence was enough to tell me he’s cocky as hell and knows he has the looks to back it up. He has a similar build to his brother, cut to perfection like each of his abs is made of diamonds. Tonight, he’s wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of sweatpants, and his hair is damp, like he just came out of the shower. Objectively speaking, he’s gorgeous. But his hair doesn’t fall over his forehead the way James’s does. His eyes aren’t quite as blue. His beard is attractive, but I prefer James’s clean-shaven, razor-sharp jawline better. Is the happy trail leading down similar, or—
I force my gaze down to the floor once I realize I’m staring. I’m here to help James, not ogle his brother and fantasize about his pecs.
