Page 33 of The Kiss Class

For some people, a situation like that might be a regular Friday night. Others might take some time to process it and let go. By the strain in Cara’s voice and the pain in her eyes, it was beyond humiliating and affirmed stories she’s told herself about how desirable she is. The idea of her hurting or not seeing her beauty makes my chest crater.

I gently pinch her chin in my hand, lifting her gaze to mine. Then, I brush my thumb across Cara’s lower lip. “Ricky didn’t deserve you.”

Her eyes dip and when she glances up at me they turn heavy. My breath stills.

Swallowing, she says, “Back to the plan, I’ll continue to pretend to be the girl you can’t get over and make sure my dad knows how wonderful you are even though I don’t like you . . . if you give me kissing lessons.”

I snap out of my haze. “What? No way.”

She steps back, expression slack. “You’re a first-class flirt and kisser. You can show me the ways. Do you see what you did just now? I was like butter in your hands.”

The quaking inside tells me it was real. I wasn’t playing the role of Prince Charming or affirming my reputation as the Frenchman.

“Seems risky,” I say, running the plays in my mind.

“You’re a defenseman, an enforcer, not the kind of guy who shrinks from danger.”

“True.” I can’t deny the grin that builds inside at the prospect of kissing Cara again.

“I’ll pretend to hate you so no one gets suspicious.”

“That seems extreme.”

“So you’ll do it?”

I counter, “As long as you upgrade me from hated to tolerated.”

“Would kissing someone you think hates you be hard?”

“Extremely.” This whole thing seems like it’ll be difficult. HasBad Ideawritten all over it. Well, except for being with Cara.

“Okay, so we’ll just carry on with breakup status. You’ll pine. I’ll be aloof. Deal?” She holds out her hand for me to shake.

Our palms press together. Warmth shoots through me and I get another head rush at her touch.

Cara adds, “No one can know about this. Thank you for being my knight in shining armor.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“That’s what my sister used as your contact, thinking it was Nolan.”

“More like a Knight in an Ugly Christmas Sweater,” I say.

A slow smile of realization rises on Cara’s lips. “Wait. You called me Dream Girl.”

“Because you’re funny, smart, and have a great personality. Not a damsel in distress.”

“Do you get a lot of those?” She drops back. “Oh, right. Last night. Me.”

“And I’d do it all over again, protecting you against the Chards of the world.” My lips quirk.

Her cheeks turn pink and she giggles. “Thanks again.”

“My pleasure.”

She grips the doorknob. “We’ll exit separately. Count to fifty and then make sure the coast is clear. I’ll text soon.”

Notebooks in hand, she disappears, leaving me alone in the supply closet.

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