Page 96 of The Fake Date Agreement

“Don’t care. Kiss me again,” he whispers back.

Laughing, I lean in and kiss him, caught up in an electric moment that feels like a dream that could nevereverhappen to me.

But itishappening.

The coach is screaming at him to get back in the box. The crowd is yelling and wolf-whistling, and I care about absolutelynoneof that because this man is kissing me like nothing exists in his world but me.

When he ends the kiss, he grins at me and sets me back on my feet. My knees are weak, and I lean against my seat as Reid grips the bottom of his jersey, pulling it over his head and over mine. It smells like him—fresh, sweet peppermint, and so comforting, it’s like a warm hug.

He winks. “So the guys know you’re mine.”

He returns my popcorn bucket to me, grabs a handful, and returns to his screaming coach, shirtless, back muscles rippling, grinning, and completely unrepentant.

Even when Coach benches him.

And I can’t help but laugh when whoever is controlling the big screen shows a slow-motion repeat of the kiss cam. Thankfully, not me hiding behind my bucket of popcorn. The thing I missed was Reid leaping up from his bench in the box, ripping off his helmet, flinging it aside, and charging up the arena stairs, ignoring the people shouting his name and clapping him on the arm.

Because he was focused on me.

And I hold my breath as I watch the footage of him pulling me from my seat and hauling me in for a kiss that makes me tingle all over again.

This is pretend. Iknowit’s just pretend, but that kiss felt soreal.

When the game starts again, I feel eyes on me and hunt out my observer.

Marc’s date is trying to get his attention and failing.

He’s too busy staring at me, and his expression is a mix of troubled and confused.

I look away, hiding my smile.

He’sjealous.

This fake-date agreement is actually working.

Chapter 24

Javier

It’s nearly nine o’clock,and we’re in Reid’s room, decompressing after the game.

We scraped by with a win. Not exactly winning in the emphatic fashion we’d have all liked, but Caleb was relieved not to have missed any shots, and we’re headed into the championships after spring break as the team to beat.

I hand Reid a beer.

He’s been in a strange mood since the game. He’s sitting on the floor, back to the wall, legs crossed, staring into nothing.

“Here!” I wave the beer in front of his face when he doesn’t take it.

He bats it away. “Not now, Jay.”

“It’s the last one, so don’t complain when you want one later.” I return to my seat on the bed and open the beer myself, shaking my head at Caleb, who is sitting at Reid’s computer desk, eyeing Reid curiously.

“I like her.”

Reid’s soft admission draws my attention back to him before I can lift my bottle to my lips.

I should have known this strange mood was because of Tobie.

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