Page 48 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

“It’s embarrassing, but the worst part is most of the equipment has never left this shed. My mom gets invited on a ski trip to the Alps, and she buys seven pairs of skis to see which ones look best with her outfits.” I pulled out the bikes, checked the tires and adjusted the seat for Isla.

Minutes later, we were off on one of the many paths that circled the property. Isla raced ahead, yelling “sucka” as she zoomed past. I hurried to catch up to her. We hit a downhill slope, and she instantly took her feet off the pedals, stuck out her legs and rolled down the hill, laughing the whole way. She shot off the second we reached the bottom. We rode like that, chasing and coasting and pedaling for a good twenty minutes, not bothering with conversation, which was good. Conversations always seemed to tangle things up more for us, always seemed to end in me apologizing, and never seemed to head in the direction either of us wanted. It felt good just to ride, to forget about the whole crummy weekend.

We reached the sprawling 200-year-old oak that had branches made for climbing. Its long skeletal arms had grown even longer and more twisted than I remembered. It looked like it belonged in the middle of an enchanted forest. Isla stopped the bike suddenly and put her feet down.

“Oh my gosh, this tree.” She pulled out her phone and took a picture before getting off the bike to get a closer look. She walked with purpose toward it, reached for a low branch and hoisted herself up onto it. She turned around, sat down and let her legs dangle. “This tree,” she said again.

“Best tree on the property.” I joined her on the same long limb. “The story is that when my granddad was having the grounds designed, the landscape architect had slated this one to be cut down, and my grandmother threw such a fit, the architect all but resigned out of shame.”

Isla looked over at me. She giggled when the movement caused the branch to vibrate. We both gripped the rough bark to keep from rolling backward off the limb. “I’m a big fan of Hazel’s.”

“Yeah, me too.” I watched my big feet hanging in the air beneath me. “I used to hide in this tree when I was feeling down.”

Isla looked over at me. “What could Lucas Greyson ever have to feel down about?” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “I did it again. Me and my poorness snobbery. Excuse my ignorance.”

“It’s easy to think that of someone who has literally everything they could ever want. Only not everything good comes with a price tag. I wasn’t a proper fit for expensive boarding schools. Didn’t care for the uniforms, the rules, the arrogant staff, the even more arrogant student body. After a few bouts of trouble, I ended up in a public school. My best friend there was a kid named Derek. We still talk occasionally. Sometimes I’d go to his house after school. His mom would make sloppy joes or tacos, and she’d stop every few minutes to look over our shoulders to make sure we were doing our math right. Then she’d drop a plate of hot, gooey cut-and-bake cookies in front of us, and we’d shovel in cookies and she’d laugh at the bubbles we blew in our glasses of milk. I loved everything about it. I’d go home afterward, and there was a good chance I wouldn’t see my parents at all for the rest of the night. I envied Derek’s life. So yes, I sometimes felt down, and this tree was one of mysit and thinkplaces. I’ve climbed all the way to the top branch.”

She gripped my arm as she looked straight up into the gnarled branches. The foliage had grown thinner, like an old man’s hair, through the years, but there was still enough life in it to attract birds and squirrels. “That’s impressive. Shall we give it a go?”

“What? Now?”

Isla braced her hand on my shoulder as she got to her feet. The branch shook even more, and she laughed again as a few leaves rained down on us from above. She grabbed the next branch and pulled herself up.

“Isla, you’re not seriously going to climb to the top.”

She was already pulling herself up to the next level. More leaves fell off the outstretched branches. She put her foot in a crevice in the trunk and grabbed the next branch to lift herself higher, but her foot stayed in the crevice, anchoring her in place.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “I’m stuck.”

I pulled myself up to the branch next to where her foot was jammed in the crevice.

“I don’t want to freak you out, but I’m losing my grip on this branch,” she said next.

“No, don’t do that. I’ll get you free.” My heart was racing as I reached her wedged foot. “Hold on. I might have to take off the shoe. It’s jammed in there tight.” I took hold of her ankle and worked to shimmy her foot out of the shoe.

“I’m losing my grip, Luke.” Her voice was half panic, half laughter.

“Wait, hold on.” I kept wriggling her ankle. It finally came free from the shoe.

“Oh boy, this might end badly,” she called as she lost her grip. I dropped her shoe. I was still braced firmly against the trunk as she dropped from the higher branch and landed solidly in my arms. The branch my feet were on trembled from the impact, but I managed to stay upright, all while holding her in my arms.

She glanced down at the ground and then at me. “Well done, Mr. Greyson. I think we’re even on the lifesaving tricks for the weekend.”

We stayed there for a good long minute, me balancing on the thick branch and her nestled in my arms. She felt warm and right there, as if she belonged in my arms. Our gazes stuck like magnets. We were close enough that memories of the kiss returned. She reached up, and I held my breath waiting for her to touch me. She pulled a leaf free from my hair. I released the disappointed breath.

“I guess I should lower my feet down,” she said. “Although, if I’m being perfectly honest—something I’m known for,” she added with a wink, “I’m rather enjoying this whole scenario.”

“I am too, but maybe this whole thing would be better if my feet were standing on solid ground.” I moved my feet for better control, and she lowered her feet to the branch. I climbed down first and then turned around to help her finish the drop to the ground. My hands circled her small waist, and she once again braced her hands on my shoulders as I lowered her to the ground. We stared at each other for a few seconds. I wondered if she could hear my heartbeat, because I sure could.

“Thank you. I suppose I’ve outgrown my tree climbing days.” She immediately grabbed my arm as she balanced on her foot that still had a shoe. She hopped along next to me and sat down on the grass surrounding the tree. I picked up the shoe I’d dropped through the branches. She reached up for it, but I held it away from her.

“What kind of prince would I be if I let the young woman put on her own shoe?” I knelt down. She wriggled her toes when I held her ankle. Her big blue eyes peered up at me as I pushed her foot into the shoe.

“Thank goodness,” she said. “It would be just my luck to have the glass slipper not fit.”

I laughed and pushed to my feet. I offered her my hand. She placed her palm on mine and my fingers, quickly, instinctively, curled around her slim hand. I helped her to her feet, and, just like in the tree, we stood for a long, quiet moment gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Why does it always feel so right when I’m with you?” The words just came out. She seemed surprised by them, but I wasn’t. I’d known there was something special about Isla the second I spotted her down at the coffee cart.

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