Page 9 of Fake Dating the Next-Door
Instead, I say, "Stand up."
She does, and I rise with her, still holding her hand. We're standing closer now, the small dining space forcing proximity. I can smell her light and floral perfume and see the pulse beating at the base of her throat.
"If you were my girlfriend," I say, the words feeling strange in my mouth, "I'd probably do this." I place my free hand lightly on her waist, careful to keep the touch appropriate.
Sunny's breath catches audibly. "For authenticity," she agrees, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
"For authenticity," I repeat.
My hand spans nearly half her waist. She's so small compared to me, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulder. Something protective stirs in my chest—a feeling I've tried to ignore since she moved in next door.
"And maybe—" She hesitates. "Maybe we should practice, um, how we look at each other? My mom is super perceptive about that kind of thing."
"How should we look at each other?" My voice has dropped lower without my permission.
"Like we're... you know. Together." Her eyes finally meet mine, wide and uncertain. "Like we care about each other."
That shouldn't be hard. Not when I'm already fighting the urge to pull her closer, to cross boundaries I have no right to cross.
"Like this?" I ask, letting some of what I'm feeling show in my expression. Not everything—she'd run screaming if she saw everything—but enough. Enough to be convincing.
Something shifts in her face, surprise followed by something softer. "Yeah," she whispers. "Just like that."
We're standing too close now, my hand still on her waist, hers resting lightly on my chest. I can feel her warmth through my shirt, can count every freckle scattered across the bridge of her nose.
This is a mistake. A massive, dangerous mistake.
I clear my throat and step back, releasing her. "That should be convincing enough."
Sunny blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a daze. "Right. Yes. Totally convincing." She tucks a curl behind her ear, her movements slightly flustered. "Um, there's one more thing."
"What's that?" I ask, grateful for the distance I've put between us.
"Would you be okay with... a goodbye kiss? When my parents are leaving?" The words tumble out quickly. "Nothing major, just a quick peck. For show."
My entire body goes still. Kiss Sunny. The thought has crossed my mind more times than I'd ever admit, but always as a fantasy I'd never act on. And now she's suggesting it herself.
"If you think it's necessary," I manage to say, my voice neutral.
"It would help sell it," she says, not quite looking at me. "But only if you're comfortable."
Comfortable is the last thing I am right now. "I'll manage."
I glance at my watch, looking for an escape. "It's getting late. I should probably head back."
"Oh! Right, of course." Is that disappointment in her voice? "Thank you for being my guinea pig. The lasagna passed the test, right?"
"Definitely." I help her clear the plates, our movements strangely comfortable in her small kitchen. "What time should I come over tomorrow?"
"My parents are arriving at six, so maybe 5:30? That way we can get our story straight one more time before they show up."
I nod, already calculating how many hours I need to spend in my garage tomorrow to work off this nervous energy. "5:30 it is."
At the door, we face each other again, uncertain. This isn't a real date. There's no goodnight kiss, no promise of seeing each otheragain soon. Except we will see each other tomorrow, playing parts in a charade that's starting to feel less like pretend with every passing minute.
"Thank you for doing this," Sunny says, her smile genuine. "I know it's weird and probably the last thing you want to be doing."
She's wrong about that. The last thing I want to be doing is walking away from her right now.
