Page 11 of Faking It Right
“Kale, which you’re eternally grateful for because you hate it.”
True enough. “First concert?”
“Some obscure indie band no one’s ever heard of that you pretend changed your life. For me, it was CJ Parker with Sawyer when I was fourteen.”
“Favorite position?”
“Harley,” he warned, though his cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink.
“What? I’m just covering all our bases.” I smirked. “For the record, I prefer being on top, but I’m versatile.”
“I did not need that mental image,” he muttered, though his eyes kept flicking nervously between me and the road.
“Sure you did. What if Sawyer asks?”
“My sister won’t pry into our sex life,” he insisted.
I laughed. “Have you met her? She’ll want the full scoop, complete with diagrams.”
He grimaced, knowing I was right. “Fine. If she asks, we’ll tell her it’s classified information.”
“Like she’d ever accept that answer,” I scoffed. “But fine, we’ll play it your way for now.”
We lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes as Ryker maneuvered through the familiar streets of his hometown. The closer we got to his parents’ house, the more tension crept into his shoulders.
“After three years of friendship and two years of sharing a roof, we don’t need to fabricate anything.”
“Except the part where we’re dating,” Ryker reminded me.
“Details.” I waved his protest away. “The point is, we already know each other’s quirks, habits, and pet peeves. We’ve witnessed each other’s glorious highs and dismal lows. That’s more than most couples can say.”
We turned onto his parents’ street, the familiar two-story Mediterranean-style house coming into view at the end of the block. It was a warm, inviting home with arched doorways, a terra-cotta tile roof, and a patio bursting with the vibrant flowers Jacinta cherished. I’d spent countless holidays and weekends there, but my visit felt different. Now, I wasn’t just the best friend anymore; I was stepping in as his boyfriend, even if it was purely for show.
As we approached, I spotted a figure in the front window. It was unmistakably Jacinta, practically bouncing with excitement. She vanished from view, presumably to rally the rest of the family for our grand entrance.
“Your mom’s already on high alert,” I warned Ryker. “She just saw us.”
He groaned. “Fantastic. She’s probably already drafting our wedding invitations.”
“I look absolutely dapper in a tux, in case you were wondering.”
“You look good in everything,” he mumbled, his gaze lingering on me for a heartbeat too long before snapping back to the road.
We pulled into the driveway, and Ryker turned off the engine but made no move to exit the car. He sat there, fixated on the house, his hands still clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline.
“Hey.” I reached over to take one of his hands in mine. His skin was warm against my palm. To my surprise, he didn’t pull away. “Showtime, snookums.”
Ryker gulped audibly, his gaze dropping to our intertwined fingers before meeting my gaze. “Yeah. Showtime.”
The warmth of his hand in mine felt more right than I was ready to admit, even to myself.It’s all a charade, I reminded myself firmly.Only pretend. But as his fingers tentatively curled around mine, I wished it were real.
The front door swung open, and Jacinta bounded on the porch, waving enthusiastically. “Boys! You made it!”
Ryker gave my hand one last squeeze before letting go to unbuckle his seat belt. “Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let the games begin.”
Chapter Five
