Page 55 of Gap Control

Brady popped in from the side like a jump-scare. "I need you both to know that was pure digital magic. We are up 800 followers and counting."

I glared at him weakly. "Didn't realize today included public mouth contact."

"Neither did I," Mason added.

I turned and stared at him.

He met my gaze calmly.

It wasn't only a kiss. And I knew, right then, we absolutely weren't pretending anymore.

Not even a little.

When we left the floor, Brady handed me a Forge-branded towel and water bottle like I'd just finished a triathlon. "You crushed it. The whole team's proud. Fandom's feral. Go hydrate before you cry."

"I'm not gonna cry."

I drifted toward the staging hallway behind the atrium, a weird half-corridor with vending machines and a fake potted plant that hadn't been dusted since 2005.

It was quiet there, at least. Dim. Normal. Not full of camera flashes and people gasping like they'd just seen Cinderella accept a proposal from Prince Charming.

I leaned against the wall and pressed the cold water bottle to my cheek.

It helped. Barely.

He'd kissed me. Mason Ryker kissed me in front of everyone like it was nothing.

Supposedly, it was fake and for show, but it didn't feel like that. My breath hitched, and the part of me always waiting for the other shoe to drop shut up for a second.

A door creaked behind me. Footsteps. I knew who it was.

It was Mason. "You good?"

"Define 'good.'"

He leaned against the opposite wall, a few feet away. Close enough that I smelled a hint of woodsy cologne he wore for the occasion.

"You looked like you needed a minute, so I gave you one."

I wove my fingers together at my waist. "By kissing me?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

I didn't answer. Finally, I asked another question. "Did it feel like anything to you?"

Mason didn't flinch. "Yeah."

"Cool. Same."

His mouth twitched. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I say that like someone who just got fake-kissed so well he might need to call his therapist."

He pushed off the wall and stepped a little closer. Not a lot. Enough to push out most of the air between us.

"You ever think maybe we're not faking it as well as we think?"

My throat went dry.

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