Page 69 of Fumbled Into Love

I grimace, nerves batting around my chest.

“There is a small chance my entire family is in the kitchen, ready to ambush us…”

Deon is shockingly calm. On the ride over, I was a mess, asking him every question I could remember on the questionnaire. I needed to know exactly how fucked we were before we walked through the door.

Instead of fumbling for answers, he knew them all.

How do I like my coffee?

What’s my favorite romantic comedy?

What’s my favorite meal?

For every question, he had a smooth, confident answer.

All sugar, no coffee.

Set It Up.

Mushroom risotto.

His fingers interlace with mine, and I melt. “We’re a team, right?”

Rule number two ofDeon and Nathalie’s Guide to Casual Sexis void for tonight. Touching is necessary to pull this off. Maybe even a bit of light petting. Perhaps that will get him to ring the ‘artichoke’ bell.

Deon’s thumb twirls the friendship bracelets covering my wrist. First, the blue and silver one he put on my wrist on our first date and then the wonky orange and pink bracelet he made with Lina and me at GameChangers.

“A team,” I confirm, squeezing his hand. I try to reassure myself everything will be fine, but my free hand shakes slightly. We’re not dating, but I want them to like him because regardless of if it’s real,Ilike him, and my family's opinion isimportant to me.

Deon begins to move deeper into the house, and I stand rooted by the door. His arm jerks. “Nathalie?”

“I’m nervous,” I admit. “So much could go wrong.”

Deon smiles, and it loosens something in my chest. In a single step, he’s gripping my cheek and placing a punishing kiss against my lips.

It steals the air from my lungs.

“Oh. My. God. They’re kissing,” Gracie squeals.

“He’s so hot,” Santi adds.

Deon smiles against my lips, stealing one more kiss before he steps back. “Still nervous?”

I stand slack-jawed as Deon gives me a cocky smirk. Fuck. Normal Deon is hot, but a confident, cocky Deon is an entirely different person.

On wobbly legs, he drags me into the kitchen, where my entire family is pretending they aren’t spying on us. My dad whistles as he stirs something in a saucepan. My mom flips through coupons that are likely expired. Santi leans against the counter, investigating an apple. And Gracie, well, she meets our eyes, grins maniacally, and winks.

Jesus.

I clear my throat.

My mother jumps. “Nathalie! Wow. You’re here! We didn’t realize.”

Deon bites back a laugh, and his shoulders shake in my peripheral vision. “Mhm. Sure,” I respond.

“Hi. I’m Santi.” Santi extends a hand, clasping Deon’s palm and squeezing. He then proceeds to wink and wiggle his eyebrows.

I am going to murder my entire family.

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