Page 6 of My Fearless Fake Fling

“I didwhat?”

He shrugged, as if drunk women did this in his company all the time. “There was a sloping mud slick, runoff from the bar’s gutters. We’d just had all that rain. You saw it, shouted, ‘I’m not boring’ and belly-flopped onto the mud. You did it like four times before I could stop you.”

“Four times?”

“You couldn’t get in my truck covered in mud, so I had to strip you down in the parking lot.” Before I could screech my mortification at him, he held up his hands, patting the air in that placating “hold on a minute” way people try to do to calm down a crazy person. “Nobody else was around. I made sure of it. And the parking lot was dark.”

“How’d you get me into your apartment?” The crazy was leaving me, replaced by a healthy dose of shame.

“I pulled my T-shirt off and slipped it on you before we got out. So you were covered. Between my board shorts and you in the tee, which looked like a cover-up, if anyone saw us, they’d have assumed we’d been swimming.”

It was at that moment something began to unfurl in the pit of my belly. Something not good—because it wasverygood. I recognized that something in the pit of my belly. A big, screaming crush. Yes, I had a screaming crush on the guy. In one night he’d managed to go from arrogant donkey’s butt to this… this awesome representative of the male persuasion. I couldn’t let him be my pretend boyfriend anymore, not with a screaming crush. I knew myself; it would get real awkward to the point he’d become super uncomfortable.

I knew it would happen because it happened once before, and not with Brian. What Brian and I had developed over time. I hadn’t even been particularly attracted to him when he’d asked me out, but knew how hard it could be to summon up the courage to put yourself out there. So, what the heck, right? And I’d said sure.

No, the guy I’d gotten the screaming crush on happened to be my brother’s best friend, Harrison. He was beautiful, had these crystal blue eyes, similar to Lennon’s. But five years my senior, he wouldn’t have anything to do with my sixteen-year-old self. Still, because my brother and I were close, they tried their best to include me until my stupid crush culminated with me making a pass at Harrison.

We’d been in the backyard of the house my brother and Harrison rented. It was located on a large property on the outskirts of town. They liked to ride four wheelers and snow mobiles, so the place made sense.

I’d thought we were alone outside at the bonfire we’d thrown to welcome Harrison’s brother, Leo, for the summer. Leo was a year older than me and lived with his mother—their parents were divorced—in a different city so he could go to some smart school. We were waiting for him to arrive before commencing with the festivities.

Yeah, we weren’t alone. My brother and Leo appeared from the shadows through the side gate of the house just in time to witness the humiliation of Harrison shoving me off his lips after I’d surprise attack-kissed him. I barely glimpsed either my brother or Leo but saw enough of them to know they’d seen all of my idiotic interaction. And heard Harrison go on to tell me that even if I weren’t his best friend’s sister, I was just a kid and he didn’t get off on kids.

He wasn’t mean when he’d said it, although his rejection sliced over every inch of me as if he’d fended me off with a butcher knife instead of the truth. His words stung like he’d poured lemon juice over those exposed cuts, because although not mean, he’d left no room for misunderstanding.

Right then, I packed up my stuff—purse, keys and jacket—and got the heck out of there, never to be in Harrison’s presence ever again. It wasn’t long after “the incident,” as I’d come to call it, that he and my brother joined the Air Force together. And then it wasn’t long after that that they decided to see if they had the stuff to become PJs. Pararescuers for the rest of us. Formerly known as parajumpers, hence the PJ, or the guys with medic training who fly into dangerous situations to extract the wounded, try to stabilize them midflight, usually under fire, and get them to hospital.

Neither Lennon nor I needed my crush to complicate the situation. Apparently, I’d been staring at him this whole time lost in thought, and I only became aware of my staring because he asked a playful yet defensive, “What?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked. Yes. A delicious smirk and dreamy blue eyes. The tiniest scar above his right eye, which gave a hint of ruggedness to his already-sexy model features. Though I couldn’t exactly tell him all that.

“What? No.”

“Then why are you staring?” This came with a corresponding chuckle, as if he read my thoughts. Could see into my mind.

“Quick, say something rude to me.”

“I’m not going to say something rude to you. I like us getting along. You’re…fun. Besides, a boyfriend wouldn’t be rude. Consistency and all.”

No, no, no. He had to be rude so I wouldn’t like him any longer. The only way for him to be my fake boyfriend was for him to be rude to me. How could he not comprehend that, albeit without me actually explaining the situation, because um… no way.

And I think with the way he lifted that last bit of sandwich to his mouth, slowly biting, seductively chewing, he did it simply to annoy me. Okay, maybe he didn’t purposely chew seductively.Gah!I threw my hands over my eyes and turned away. See? Awkward. Already.

He had to pick up on my awkwardness, yet he continued to disregard it. “So, here’s what’s on our itinerary today. We go skinny-dipping.”

My eyes bugged. “Excuse me? We are not going skinny-dipping.”

“We have to. I figure to work you up to the bigger challenges, like skydiving, we have to start off small. That’s where you were going wrong. Starting too big.”

“I’m not getting naked in front of you.”

It was as if I hadn’t even spoken. “Finish your food. Then you can shower and dress. After, we’ll head down to the lake for some skinny-dipping. It’ll be fun, liberating. You’ll love it.”

The first part of his plan, me finishing up my breakfast, I did without complaint. I was still intent to shut down any ideas about him and me skinny-dipping when I saw my phone sitting on his kitchen cupboard. I picked up my plate and walked over to the sink to load it into the dishwasher, powering back on my phone the moment I finished.

My phone pinged with several texts in succession. About five from Deirdre from last night, the others, though, came from our other mutual friends. It appeared Deirdre had been busy spreading the word about my relationship status. All of them wanting to know,who was the guy?I could deal with them. Until I got to the final text message. From Brian. What. The. Heck.

Brian:He’s going to help you overcome your fears?

At least six months he’d cheated on me. What right did he have to even text, let alone leave a comment like that? I didn’t owe him any explanation.Hecheated.Heleft.Idid neither. And standing in Lennon’s kitchen, squeezing the life out of my stupid phone, I realized only one option remained open and viable to me. Or to us.

Lennon and I were going skinny-dipping.

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