Page 101 of Fake Married to the Grumps

I laugh at the memory, the sound echoing through the room like music to my ears. "I was not," I protest. "I just didn't want you to starve to death on my watch."

Bryce chuckles, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. "Well, whatever your reasons were, the soup was delicious, and it definitely did the trick."

I smile, a warm feeling spreading through my chest at his words. Despite his tough exterior, despite the walls he's built up aroundhimself, there's something undeniably genuine about Bryce, something that lures me in.

"You know," I say suddenly, my voice soft but steady. "You were always very good-looking and intimidating in high school. It's a wonder I even had the courage to talk to you, let alone bring you soup."

Bryce's eyes widen in surprise, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. "Really?" he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.

I nod, butterflies taking flight in my stomach at the vulnerable look in his eyes. "Yeah," I say softly. "You were like the captain of the football team, and I was just ... me."

Bryce smiles, a warm, genuine smile that tugs at my heartstrings in a way I can't quite explain. "Well, I'm glad you did," he says, reaching out to place a comforting hand on my arm. "Otherwise, I might have starved to death without you."

Chapter 20

Bryce

I'm flattered beyond measure Marissa found me attractive, even though we were only young, dumb teenagers back then. But the thing is that I also thought she was phenomenal. She always looked cute with her doe eyes and warm smile, which could make thousands of hearts race.

"Well, I thought you looked incredible as well."

Marissa’s face morphs into a look of surprise, and it's obvious she wasn't expecting the compliment. And it's weird because she is the most beautiful woman I know. She turns heads wherever she goes, and I always feel like punching those guys on set who gawk at her like hawks.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, thanks."

She tilts her head down, purposely letting her hair form a curtain by the sides of her face and shielding her blush. But I still pick up on the faint crimson red.

"I feel like," Marissa says, yawning, "I'm going to pass out from exhaustion soon."

I glance at her with concern, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "You look beat. How about I stick around until you fall asleep?"

Marissa smiles gratefully, her eyelids drooping. "That would be nice, thank you.But promise me, you won't pull any pranks on me while I'm asleep. I don't want to wake up with a fake spider on my face or something."

I raise my hands in mock surrender, a playful grin tugging at my lips. "Scout's honor. No pranks, I promise."

She laughs, her eyes finally closing as she settles more comfortably into the pillows. "Good. I'll hold you to that."

I sit by her bedside, watching over her as she drifts into a fitful sleep, her brow furrowed in unease, even in her slumber. Despite the fact that I’m late and that my phone won’t stop blowing up, I can't tear myself away from her side.

She looks so vulnerable, so fragile lying there in the dim light of her room, and for a moment, my heart aches with a fierce protectiveness that takes me by surprise.

I've never felt this way about anyone before, not even the countless women who have passed through my life like ships in the night.

But Marissa is different, special in a way I can't quite put into words. She's not like the other women I've known, all-flash and glamor and empty promises.

She's real, down-to-earth, the girl next door with a heart of gold, and she has a spirit that shines like a beacon in the darkness.

As I watch her sleep, a sudden surge of emotion wells up within me, threatening to overwhelm me with its intensity. Unable to help myself, I reach out to brush a stray lock of hair away from her forehead, my fingers lingering against her skin for a moment longer than necessary.

She stirs at my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she shifts in her sleep. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest as I realize just how close we are, how close I am to crossing a line I swore I'd never cross.

But then she opens her eyes, blinking up at me in confusion, and the moment passes like a fleeting dream.

I pull back, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I stumble over my words in a desperate attempt to cover up my indiscretion.

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