Page 37 of The Stand-In Boyfriend

I rub my hand over my face. Will I ever say anything right with this girl? It feels like everything I do just pisses her off more than the last thing.

But she’s right, I have no right to say anything. Not only do I not know the whole story, I’m herfakeboyfriend. No matter how sometimes it doesn’t feel fake at all.

We don’t say a word to each other until we get to school, the sound of the radio the only thing filling the quiet of the car.

As soon as the car is parked, we get out. Jessica tries to run away from me, but I don’t let her get far. That damn jacket, taunting me.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Before I can think better of it, my hands land on her shoulders.

“Hey!” Jessica pushes me back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I quickly work on sliding down the strap of her backpack and then start working on the jacket. “Getting rid of this thing.”

Before she can protest any further, the jacket she’s been wearing is tugged free and thrown into the backseat of my car.

“I need it for the rally!” Jessica protests, opening the door once again to get the jacket out. “You can’t just…”

I take off my jacket and put it over her shoulders. Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I pull Jessica to my chest. Partly to keep her from punching me in the face, but partly because I plain want to.

I lean down, inhaling her sweet scent. Closing my eyes, I let myself enjoy it for a moment. My lips brush against her earlobe as I whisper, “You can think I’m a jackass, but I don’t want you wearing another guy’s jacket while we’re together.”

“Why does it matter?” she challenges, turning in my arms to face me, the fire in her eyes burning brightly. “This whole thing is fake. It’s not like we’re together for real.”

Irritation in me spikes, but somehow I manage to rein it in. I close the distance between us. My voice cool and collected, the complete opposite of the emotions swirling inside me.

“Fake or real, you’re mine. And as long as we’re together I take care of what’s mine.” Wrapping my hand around her waist, I pull her into my chest and kiss her.

It’s hard and bruising. My fingers wrap around the nape of her neck, coaxing her to tilt her head backward and give me access. My tongue slides past her lips and into her mouth, twirling and sucking.

Jessy matches the pace I set, not once shying away. Her body is brushing against mine, her fingers digging into my hair, giving it a slight pull.

We’re punishing each other for the harsh words we said. Fighting a battle in which we both might be winners if she’d only open herself up to the possibility.

I hadn’t even realized how much I want it until this very moment.

The kiss ends almost as soon as it began, but my heart doesn’t stop for a second. Jessica’s breaths are ragged, just like mine, and I find a little solace in the fact that I affect her as much as she affects me.

“Let’s go.” I intertwine our fingers and together we go into the pandemonium that’s the hallways of our school on game day.

* * *

The Friday night lights shine brightly above us as we step onto the field, the cheers of the crowd deafening as we emerge from the tunnel.

The lights, the people, the smell of the grass, it all sends a rush of adrenaline through my bloodstream, pumping me up for the kickoff.

Elliott slaps my shoulder pad, a huge grin on his face. “Let’s smash those fuckers!”

“Make them eat dirt, dude.”

We fist bump, just like we do before every game.

I scan the field, taking everything in. As if of their own accord, my eyes land on Jessica standing with the rest of the cheerleaders on the sidelines. She’s in a matching blue and gray top and skirt, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, pom-poms in her hands.

She turns toward me, her gaze meeting mine like she could feel me watching. Something shifts inside of me. I remember our kiss from earlier. How she felt pressed against me, the feel of her mouth underneath mine.

The need to go to her and claim her mouth is almost too much.

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