Page 28 of The Stand-In Boyfriend

“Who what?”

“Who asked questions?”

She runs her fingers through her hair. “Lisa. And she won’t be the only one. Also, while we’re talking about this… Are we going to that bonfire party? I know I just barged in that day, but if you don’t want to, it’s…”

“We can go.” I shrug. “I would have probably gone with the guys anyway.”

She nods slowly. “Good. Bonfire it is then.”

I see an open spot so I give it a little bit more gas to claim it before somebody else gets a chance. Turning off the car, we both get out. Jessica looks skittish, nibbling at her lower lip. What little lip gloss she had when she first got in is already gone.

I go to her side of the car and grab her hand in mine.

Her eyes grow wide but she doesn’t try to protest. As my fingers slide over her wrist, I can feel the strong fluttering of her heartbeat.

People watch us as we walk by; I greet some of the guys I know, but don’t stop to chat with anybody.

“People are staring,” Jessica points out quietly.

“So?” I nod at a group of guys and girls that are in the marching band.

“It’s freaky.”

“Better to have them stare at you openly than gossip about you behind your back,” I point out.

“I know. It’s just weird.”

I stop and pull her to me. “Are you really sure about this?”

“Yes. There’s no going back now.”

If she wanted it, I would give her an out. I don’t know how, but I’d find a way. For her, I’d do it. I’m not sure what the hell is happening here, but there is more to Jessica Bryant than meets the eye, and I want to know it.

Knowher.

“You have something here,” I murmur, stepping closer, my thumb brushing a few crumbs from the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes are glued to my lips, cheeks turning pink. Is she also thinking about what it would be like if it were my tongue instead of my finger? Or is it just me?

I pull back, sucking in some much-needed air to clear my mind. “Let’s go to class.”

Chapter Eleven

JESSICA

My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I lift my gaze from the homework I’ve been working on to look at the offending device. I usually feel antsy when I have to study, preferring to do anything else insteadof actually studying, so I tend to leave my phone out of reach so it doesn’t distract me; today, however, I apparently forgot to turn off the sound.

I puff at a strand of hair that fell out of my bun and into my face as I get up just in time for it to buzz again.

Where’s the fire?

Noah: What are you up to?

Noah: Hello… Sunshine, you there?

Of course, it’s him. Who else would it be? I should have known better than to give him my phone number, but then again, it would be strange if my boyfriend—no matter how fake he might be—didn’t have my phone number.

Me: What do you want?

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