Page 62 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“You could make me less bored, Lina. We could ditch all of them and go have fun in my room,” he offers, making me snort at him.
Matteo has been flirting with me for years. There’s nothing new about it, nothing that makes me uncomfortable—it’s almost like flirting is his love language—but the way Santiago looks at his best friend?
I shiver from the threat in his gaze.
“I could also take this knife and stab you with it, but there are simply some things people aren’t allowed to do,” Santi replies, but Matteo chuckles at his best friend’s words.
“Relax, Santi, everyone here knows you’re faking it. There’s no need to keep up the pretense,” he says, pure mischief in his brown eyes. He’s provoking him, knowing full well Santiago has feelings for me.
“Matteo, if I were you, I’d shut the fuck up before Santi turns green and smashes you to pieces,” I chime in, but I should have been paying attention to Charlie because they’ve taken a big sip of water that goes all over the table as they burst into laughter. Then they start coughing, the water clearly having gone down the wrong pipe.
“This isn’t what I meant when I said I’m bored and hoped for something else to do,” Matteo says as he cleans up the water, Charlie still clearing their throat.
“I have an idea,” Sage says, jumping to her feet and running toward the room in her suite.
She invited all of us over, even ordered food and drinks. When I asked if I could chip in, she swatted my money away and told me to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I was too busy laughing to keep arguing.
Santi simply put some money under her purse in the entrance, but when I tried to do the same, he snatched it from my hands, placed it in my pocket, and mumbled something about buying myself some more books because he gave enough to cover both our meals. Sage might be pissed when she finds the money later, but Santi was too cute for me to argue with his stern expression and the way he mentioned one of my favorite hobbies.
“Manu, are you okay?” I ask when I realize she’s been sitting across from me without saying anything for… well, most of the meal.
“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all. Alessandra and I have been training nonstop, so combined with not sleeping, I just feel a bit drained,” she says and fakes a smile, staring down at her phone a second later.
I shoot Santi a look, but he’s paying me no attention. He looks at his sister with worry and sympathy, clearly aware of what is bothering her. He also looks lost on how to help her, not that I think anyone but Manu can help Manu.
When he catches me staring at him, he brings a small smile to his face. I don’t manage to return it because I’m too lost studying his face to remember to smile. Only once I’ve appreciated his full lips, chiseled face, and strong features, do I bring my attention back to his eyes.
Fourteen heartbeats pass while we stare at each other.
Fourteen.
I know because my heart is thumping against my ribcage.
When Santi looks at me this way, like there is no one else in the world but me, I can’t help but feel the same happening to me. Everything and everyone else drifts away. There is only him and me, and this heat between us that has my cheeks burning and my stomach flipping.
His eyes drop to my lips, and he licks his as he slowly drags his gaze up again. I press my legs together, biting down on my bottom lip to keep from saying things I’ll regret.
Kiss me.
Touch me.
Fuck me.
None of these words are appropriate to say during a dinner with our closest friends.
Charlie clears their throat beside me, still fighting to get the water out of the wrong pipe, breaking the moment between Santi and me. I look away immediately, reaching for my glass of white wine to give myself something to do instead of focusing on Charlie, Matteo, and Manu having witnessed yet another moment between Santi and me.
“Who’s down for some tennis?” Sage asks as she joins us again, holding up her Nintendo Switch.
“Sure, but only if we make this interesting,” Matteo chimes in, catching my attention.
“How?” I ask, taking another sip of my wine.
“Whoever wins gets to choose a punishment for the losers,” he says, and I look at Manu, who is finally smiling, a challenge sparkling in her eyes.
“No,” Santi replies. “I’m not doing that shit with you again. Last time, you made me dance naked on top of a table at one of your parties.”
My jaw falls open without permission before I burst into laughter, too amused by the visual to hold it back.
