Page 23 of Fake It Til You Break It

Because nothing screameddeep blue sealike a trash panda.

By my estimation, we had been in the building for nearly an hour before we encountered our first actual marine animal. Stepping into a stark, blindingly white room, I grinned at the circular glass columns that filled the area. And inside each one was an abundance of ocean life, from anemones to tigerfish.

Three of the tanks housed different species of seahorses. I’d always liked the way they clung to the seaweed with their little tails. They looked so unbothered by life as they floated in the current created by the water’s circulation system.

Farther down the row, I found myself absolutely entranced by a striped cuttlefish. Tucked beneath a hollow branch at the bottom of the enclosure, I had almost missed it at first. Then a flash of color had caught my attention, stopping me in my tracks, and I had been treated to a mesmerizing show of shifting light patterns.

“Hey, look at this.” Beckett called me over to a column near the back wall as he crouched down in front of the glass. “This littledude looks like he wants to throw down. I swear he just tried to punch me.”

His enthusiasm about a hypothetical assault from a shrimp was deranged and kind of adorable.

“That’s a mantis shrimp. They have the most powerful punch in the world, and they have been known to crack aquarium glass.”

He instantly pulled his hands back and held them up in surrender as he rose to his feet. “Maybe he’s just mad because he’s lonely.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but it still made me smile. “He’s in there alone because he’s a little nuisance that will kill other fish and even crabs.”

“That’s just disrespectful.” Chuckling, he turned to face me. “How do you know all this stuff?”

Because I had been even more socially awkward as a child than I was now. As a result, I’d spent a lot of time in my room, making friends with books instead of other people. By this point, I knew Beckett could handle my weirdness, but that felt a little too heavy, so I shrugged and told a half truth instead.

“I read a lot.”

“That’s kind of sexy.”

My brain instantly malfunctioned, unsure of the appropriate reaction. Did I laugh? Blush uncomfortably? Ignore the way my stomach fluttered?

Before I could fully process that statement, his eyes lit up, and a bright smile stretched his lips.

“That reminds me. I forgot to tell you I finished Kendall’s book.”

“Oh, that’s great.” I latched onto the information so I wouldn’t dwell on his previous comment. “What did you think?”

“It was good. I’m not a big reader like you, but it held my interest.” He spoke earnestly about different scenes he’d enjoyed while we continued through the aquarium, explaining not just what he had liked but why. “I was really impressed with all the procedural stuff. The kid did her research.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.” I didn’t have the same experience or knowledge as him, but I had also thought the scenes sounded authentic. “So, are you going to continue the series?”

“I already pre-ordered the next book.”

Could he be any more perfect? While I believed he had honestly enjoyed Kendall’s work, he had just admitted he wasn’t really into reading. As such, I had to conclude that he’d pre-ordered the sequel as a show of support.

And maybe because he knew how much it meant, not just to Kendall, but to me as well.

We entered a wide, dimly lit corridor made of clear glass, the space awash with a soft, purple glow. These tanks didn’t boast corals or seaweed, nor did they house a single decoration. Just dozens of radiant jellyfish drifting lazily in the water. They looked peaceful, almost ethereal, yet something about these alien-like creatures had always unsettled me.

In that moment, however, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that they lacked brains or could theoretically live forever. Instead, the UV light that filled the tank had transported me back to the previous night, to the paint, to Beckett’s hard, chiseled body pressed against mine on the dance floor.

It had taken three more shots of cheap vodka, but I had eventually loosened up enough to actually enjoy myself. At least to some degree. It had still been too loud and too chaotic for my tastes, but I’d discovered that if I just focused on Beckett, everything else didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore.

“I had fun last night.”

If he found my comment abrupt or out of place, he didn’t show it. “Yeah, me, too. Though probably not something I would want to do again.”

“God no,” I said, a relieved chuckle mingling with the words. “It took forever to wash off all the paint.”

“Probably would have been easier with help.” His grin said he knew exactly what that comment had done to me, and he had no intentions of taking it back. “You look good today, by the way.”

My initial instinct was to deflect the compliment, but I paused and reminded myself that I didn’t have to do that with Beckett. Not an easy habit to break, but one worthy of effort.

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