Page 134 of The Friend Situation

“What?” she asks, her breath caught deep in her chest, as if she’s trying to steady herself against the wave of uncertainty crashing over us.

“You’re overthinking,” I say, the truth obvious. “I can see it on your face.”

“I can’t help it,” she whispers, her eyes darting away, almost as if she fears what she might reveal.

“Talk to me,” I encourage, stepping a fraction closer, hoping to bridge the gap between us. “Being with me changes everything. Is it too much?” My heart races.

What if this is what pushes her away?

“Why weren’t you going to ask me about the fake engagement?” she questions as her gaze pierces through me.

“I was afraid you’d say no and …” My voice trails off. The confession shocks me.

She crosses her arms tightly. “Tell me.”

“I’m afraid I’ll grow too attached and not want this to end.”

The admission hangs in the air, a fragile truth that could shatter everything.

“Weston, friends forever, remember?” she whispers. “Let me help you.”

“I know. I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet. It’s a big step. Fake or not.” I swallow hard.

“I’ll let you make the ultimate decision,” she whispers. “But I’m in.”

“It could backfire. That’s why you have to promise me something. Promise you won’t fake it with me. I wantnobarriers. If you want to text or kiss or touch me, that’syourdecision because it’s what you want, not because there’s an audience. They’ll write our story for us, so I don’t need you to pretend.” I lower my voice.

“I can do that. How long?” she asks.

“My publicist said to let it run until we want to see other people, and then we’ll explain to the public that we are better as best friends. We’ll give it a positive spin and do the impossible.”

“That seems doable,” she responds, her lips curving upward. “No dating other people?”

“Unfortunately, my image can’t handle a cheating scandal right now,” I explain, trying to keep the mood light despite the seriousness of what we’re discussing.

“It’s still a yes from me. I want you to have your life back, Weston.”

Her honesty is refreshing. Her gaze ignites something deep within me.

I smirk, pulling her in closer, the urge to kiss her almost overwhelming. “Which of our original rules still stand?”

She smiles, gently shaking her head, teasing me. “No falling in love.”

It’s a hint, a cautious boundary she’s drawing. She’s not ready for that leap just yet.

“Just tell me this one thing, and I’ll never mention it again,” I murmur, my voice low and earnest.

“Okay.” She looks up at me.

“Can you imagine it? Us? Is there even a possibility?”

The question hangs heavy between us.

“Yes.” The word escapes her lips breathlessly, and it’s music to my fucking ears. “I’ve seen it in my wildest dreams.”

She gasps, her breath hitching as I slide my hand up the slit of her dress.

I cling to hope, a shimmering star in the night sky. I tread lightly, knowing that the weight of that four-letter word could crumble the delicate balance she needs.

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