Page 33 of Lessons in Faking
My hand flew to the handle. Well before I had even made the conscious decision to open the door and physically fight my brother, my temper had decided for me. And I really thought I’d have to fight McCarthy too, when his hand prevented mine from unlocking the door.
He lifted it quickly at my glare, only ruffling my hair with a devious smile on his face. At my questioning look, he shrugged. “Just gotta make you look right. Ready?”
I took a deep breath, determined to sell this thing. “Whatever it takes.”
McCarthy opened the door so forcefully that Henry almost fell through it.
My brother startled at the sight of us, probably half assuming I wouldn’t cave, half certain his words were exactly what would make me. We’d grown up learning exactly what buttons to push to get the reaction we wanted, after all.
“I know what you’re doing,” Henry repeated.
“I heard you the first time.” My voice sounded cold, unbothered. I thought I was doing a good job of hiding my panic-ridden thoughts.
“Good.” His eyes slid to McCarthy, gaze so threatening, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. “So you can stop whatever this is now, because I know—”
Which was when I cut him off before he could confirm my earlier fear. “I don’t know what you know, Henry.” I could probably guess, but I ignored that pointed voice in my head. “I don’t care what you think you know. All I know is that you don’t know shit.”
Did that even make sense? I was too angry to reason.
Oh please, his face said. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why you’re parading him around like a new purse. Why you only do so when I’m around. None of the people I’ve talked to have even seen you hold hands, never mind kiss—”
“You’ve been going around asking about me?” That was the first time McCarthy said anything. His brows drew together, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in irritation. Yet he sounded almost monotone.
“If you’re supposed to be messing around with my sister, hell yes I am!” Henry didn’t hide the anger surging behind his green eyes as well as McCarthy.
It had always been their dynamic. Henry blew up quickly, got angry fast. But I hadn’t seen McCarthy truly angry once. Just annoyed, bothered, irritated... the list went on.
It’s probably one of the reasons they didn’t get along. McCarthy seeming unbothered only served to piss Henry off more, and Henry blowing up so quickly probably amused McCarthy. It was a vicious cycle.
While one look told me McCarthy hadn’t been happy about the revelation, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat... victorious. When had Henry last cared enough to ask me a question? Never mind askingotherpeople.
“What?” Henry spat during the short silence. “You think I’m just going to let you—”
“We kiss,” I blurted. His very accurate observation that we didn’t seemed most threatening to the plan, and my brain must’ve latched onto that fact, scrambling to fix thehole in our story. Both their heads flew in my direction. “So much.Allthe time.”
Was I laying it on too thick? Judging by McCarthy’s warning nudge, he seemed to think so.
“No you don’t.” Henry didn’t miss a beat. Probably because he didn’t want to think about the possibility. “You’re full of shit and you know it. Just. Give. It. Up.”
But he must’ve known that wasn’t an option. We’d both been born with the same ego, inherited from Father Dearest. There wasn’t a way in hell I was going to admit this was fake.
“We just were.” I gestured into the room behind us. We might as well have been, with how close we’d been standing.
Henry followed my gaze, but his response was as immediate and confident as the last one. “No you weren’t.” I hated the little curl of his lip when he knew he was right. And I hated the way my nose twitched when I knew I wasn’t.
There was a single beat of silence between this moment—when I was just as convinced as Henry that I wouldn’t be kissing McCarthy—and the next, when I was an inch away from doing so. If I had to explain how and when McCarthy had managed to turn me on my heels, or when and how I had managed to wrap my arms behind his neck, I wouldn’t be of much help.
We acted in perfect sync without having to say a word, exchange a glance. The whole thing was a blur, right up until my lips were nearly touching his and I felt myself hesitate when my back hit the wall behind me.
This was McCarthy. My tutor. Fake boyfriend. Guy I couldn’t help being somewhat attracted to, no matter how hard I tried not to be. Kissing him wasn’t a great idea, but I could feel the heat of his breath and his hands on my hips and—
Whatever it takes, I’d said.Thiswas what it would take.
His breath hitched against me, his hand gently curled around my face. I saw Henry storming off out of the corner of my eye, but that didn’t keep me from seeing this through.
Whatever it takes.
His lips finally on mine. My hands in his hair.
