Page 32 of Faking Ties

I grin and Hunter grabs my hand. “I’m going to steal my girl.” The women all coo over us, and I wave goodbye to them with a smile. If only they knew it was fake.

Hunter stops walking once we’re under the Ferris wheel. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I was a dick.”

“You were.”

“Can you forgive me?” he asks, grabbing both my hands in his.

“Fine, but only if you approach more of your teammates with a plate of cookies.”

He grimaces. “Is that your asking price?”

“It is.”

“I accept,” he says, “but you’re coming with me.”

“Oh, no. I’m good right here.”

“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyes spark with mischief. “You sure about that?”

“Very,” I lie, sprinting to the front of the line and regretting that decision when every muscle in my body spasms in pain. Fucking bootcamp. I cut in front of a man who I’m ninety-nine percent sure is Hunter’s coach. “Sorry to cut, but I’m avoiding a situation.”

The coach laughs and waves me forward when he spots Hunter chasing after me. I hop into the newly emptied Ferris wheel cart and bounce in my seat,needing the door to close faster than it is so I can get into the air. Hunter wraps a hand around the handle, stopping the worker from doing their job, and dives inside just before the door shuts.

“Think you’d get away so easily?” he asks.

“Yeah, though I’m not sure why I thought I’d be able to outrun a fucking athlete. Do you have to be so fast?”

“Yes.” Hunter laughs. “Yes, I do.”

Our cart rises higher in the air, and we have the perfect view of the party below. All the people milling about, laughing and chatting and having a great time. I spot Evren on the threshold of his living room, not joining the party but just watching everyone else enjoy it.

“It’s beautiful up here,” I say.

“It is.”

I glance at Hunter and he’s staring at me. I nudge him with my shoulder. “You did not just say that. That’s so cliché.”

“But it’s a good line.”

“I don’t need a line. You already have me for the next few months.”

Hunter places his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “You still deserve to be told how beautiful you are regularly.”

“Then by all means, please continue. But I don’t want to hear about my looks. I want something different.”

“Hungry for a compliment, are we?” He says it like ajoke, but I can’t help but stiffen. He’s hit far too close to the truth than I’m comfortable with. In my real life, it’s not like I get complimented regularly on anything. It’s just complaints, highlighting how incapable I am to work multiple jobs and keep my life together. So yes, I’m compliment starved as Elodie, but I shouldn’t be as Stella. “Well, add that to my job description. I’ll make sure to tell you something I like about you regularly.”

“Okay, what about today?” I ask. “What’s my compliment?”

“I love your voice.”

“My voice? Like my singing voice?”

“Nope,” he says. “Your talking voice. It’s husky and sexy as fuck. Makes me hard every time I hear it.”

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