Page 29 of Lessons in Faking
I wasn’t sure how hard he’d tried to hold it back, but from the way that laugh spluttered out of him—ringing through the entire hall and earning us both a cruel glance from Carter—it hadn’t been hard enough.
And the real thing was miles... no, light-years ahead of the fake laugh he’d shown off oh so many times over the course of our fake relationship. I had considered it nice, but this one—the real one—made it feel half-hearted and weak by comparison. Giggly, somewhat boyish, and definitely... cute. Unexpected.
McCarthy’s eyes were already wide when they met mine. His hand covered his mouth, eyes jumping back and forth between the professor and me, seemingly just as confused. His cheeks flushed at the unwanted attention.
“Something funny, McCarthy?” Carter’s voice rang through the room, and even from up here, I could see her eyes darting between us.
The earlier display of amusement washed off his face, and his answer came out as quick as lightning. “No. Sorry.”
“Never took Pressley for quite the comedian,” she said, earning herself a few snickers from the room. After throwing a final glance our way, she focused on her laptop again.
“You’d be surprised,” McCarthy muttered under his breath. I was sure the words weren’t meant for my ears. It was almost a compliment, after all.
The red rose between my fingers found its way into my bag, and I made sure it didn’t get crushed when I took out my laptop to take notes.
*
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. Not by a long shot.
By Friday, I had four identical, disgustingly perfect, and thorny roses sitting in a vase on my windowsill, and I waspushing the fifth in. One for each day of the week. I threw my bag to the ground and myself onto my bed afterward.
My emotional support blanket covered the floor, along with... half of the contents of my closet, probably. It was time for a serious deep clean, but between classes, fake dates, and the extra statistics work McCarthy had sentenced me to, there hadn’t been enough time to consider one, never mind actually doing it.
My eyes trailed back to the only thing that seemed orderly in here.
McCarthy was having a field day with these roses. Every time I saw him, he had one in his hand, looking as proud as ever. As if it was the first time he’d given me one and he just couldn’t wait to see my face when he held it out to me. It didn’t matter that it had become predictable by Wednesday. His nose still scrunched up in the same way when he spotted me. Anticipation still lingered in his every expression, and a wide grin still sneaked onto his lips when I rolled my eyes.Every. Time.
Turning my attention from a vase filled with my least favorite flowers, I tried to concentrate on the task at hand: mustering up the motivation to get ready for the party Henry would be at tonight.
Inevitably, that meant his favorite power couple would be there too.
Chapter 15
It was 11:00p.m. when McCarthy showed up at my door, saying he wasready to live it up. He did not look the part. As if on cue, a yawn rattled through his chest.
“We don’t have to go” was the first thing that slipped past my lips. I thought it was...
“Wow,” he gasped. “So thoughtful of you.”
Yeah, it was exactly that.
“I know,” I continued, my tone exaggerated. “I just care about you so much. You should know that by now.” I rushed back into the kitchen, knowing McCarthy had let himself in when I heard the door shut. “It’s also the fact that I would like people to know I’m amazing company to keep, and my boyfriend falling asleep on me would say quite the opposite.” It definitely had nothing to do with the fact I was nervous. “Beer?”
The question hung in the air as I opened the fridge, rising to my toes to reach the top shelf. When he didn’t answer, I looked over my shoulder.
McCarthy was shrugging out of his dark Carhartt jacket and hanging it over one of the stools. When he walked over, I took that as a yes, quickly grabbed a can out of the fridge before he could, and turned back around with a victorious smile.
Being faster than him felt like a small win in itself. I might’ve gloated more if I wasn’t immediately faced with his chest. It took him less time to get to me than I’d anticipated, and as the smirk slipped from my lips, it appeared on his. Without breaking eye contact, his hand curled around the can, finger grazing mine before I could let go.
I did not want to interpret the way his touch scorched my skin. The way color rose to my neck.
“No, thank you,” he said, voice lower as he placed the beer back on the top shelf. Cool air hit my back, and a shiver ran down my spine.
McCarthy was close enough for me to feel the suppressed chuckle in his chest. His head basically hovered above my own, and I thanked God for the height difference that put some distance between us. He took in the contents of my fridge, ignoring my body pressed between him and the cold air coming from behind me.
“We’re not supposed to drink.Captain’s orders.But it’s his birthday, so I’m sure he’ll make an exception and just torture us for our decisions in the morning. Got something stronger? Sweeter?” he asked, hand curling around the corner of the fridge. “Please?”
He seemed different tonight—more unpredictable. Fuck, something was definitely wrong with the guy, ifpleaseandthank youcoming out of his mouth made me feel on edge.
