Page 29 of That Time I Kissed My Brother’s Best Friend

Suddenly, my cheeks flush pink, and I remember Beau wasn’t the only one of us who took something from the other back then. “I owe you an apology, too, Beau.”

“Well. This is unexpected.” He raises an eyebrow. “But I guess you’re all about teaching lessons now. So I should learn to expect the unexpected from you.” He takes a beat. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

I swallow. Hard. If I had a collar to tug, I would. “I stole the job of yearbook editor right out from under you. And I knew how much you wanted it.”

“Ooooh, yeah.” He blows out a long, exaggerated breath, like I just socked him in the belly. “Thatwaspretty rough, Graham. And I was definitely disappointed, so I’ll accept your apology. But I always figured you only did that because I went after editor of the paper. I drew first blood.”

“You did. That’s true.” A cloud passes over the sun, and I suck in a hot breath. The air is still thick and humid. “But you know the old saying. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

He scrubs a hand over his chestnut hair, and in that moment, I don’t care about wrongs or rights, I just want to be those fingers in the waves. I want to sit in the shade of this pine tree and kiss Beau Slater. Forever.

“Here’s the thing, though,” he says. Then he lays a palm on my shoulder, and a hot shiver runs up my spine. Extra-high voltage. “Doesn’t the wholetwo wrongs don’t make a rightidea go against your little revenge plot?”

Ugh.“I hate it when you’ve got a good point,” I groan. “Could you ease up on that please?”

“I’ll try.” He chuckles and drops his hand. “But reining inallmy good points might take some work. I’m pretty much full of good points, you know.”

I puff out a laugh. “Oh, you’re full of something all right.” When his eyes dance, my pulse races even faster. It’spossibleI want to hatch a plot with Beau just so we have an excuse to be together without me having to admit my heart is begging for it. “Okay.” I nod. “Let’s agree we won’t do anything overtly mean. Nothing involving laxatives or water balloons.” I lift a brow. “But we can still have a little fun with everyone.”

“What kind of fun, exactly?”

“Well.” I tilt my head. “Our moms have obviously been throwing us together all week, thinking we wouldn’t notice what they’re doing.”

Beau raises a hand. “In their defense”—he chuckles again—“I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah. Well.”There’s plenty you don’t notice. Like the effect you’re having on me now. I avert my eyes. This next part I can’t say while looking directly at Beau. “If our moms want us to be a couple so bad, we could always pretend we are. A couple, I mean. We can act like they were right all along, just to mess with them.”

As I say the words, my insides get warm. Really warm. Like apple-pie warm. I’ll have to be careful not to enjoy this role too much. Because it will be just an act. An act with an end date. I lift my gaze, and Beau’s eyes bore right through me.

“All right.” His voice has gone gravelly, and my whole body floods with heat. He’s actually agreeing? “When and how do you want to do this?” he asks.

“Hmm.”Think, Kasey. Think!“You know my family is invited to your house to watch the fireworks show tomorrow. So maybe, while we’re all there together, you and I could put on a show of our own.” I pause, waiting for Beau to object to the specifics. But he doesn’t, so I keep going. “We can lay it on super thick. Like holding hands and snuggling up to one another.” I inhale. Exhale. “We’ll fake being in love.”

“I can do that,” Beau rasps. Then he clears his throat. I’ll miss that gravel. “But our moms aren’t stupid,” he says. “Do you think they’ll buy it?”

IthinkI don’t care. IthinkI want to do it anyway. But instead of admitting that, I offer him a small smile. “I can be a pretty good actress when I want to be.” This is truer than Beau needs to know. For instance, right now I’m doing a great job of pretending my knees aren’t weak just smelling his cologne. And noting the curve of his lips. Seeing the cords of his neck flex. Watching his muscles strain under his shirt.

“I’ll bet,” he says. Then he folds his arms across his chest, and oh, wow. There go those muscles again. I shift my gaze and focus on his Adam’s apple. Beau’s nice, neutral Adam’s apple. Nothing sexy about that. Except every time he swallows, I kind of want to kiss him in that exact spot.

But back to my strategy.

“In the meantime,” I say, “and for the exact opposite reason, Brady and Natalie will go nuts if they think we’re together. They’ll completely freak out.” I lift a finger, like Watson about to reveal the answer to Sherlock Holmes. “And that’s when you and I will hit everyone with the truth.”

He stares at me. “Which is what?”

“That there’s absolutely nothing going on between us.”

“Right. Absolutely nothing.” He squeezes his arms even tighter, and it’s like he’s squeezing all the breath out of me at the same time. “So what’s your end game, Kasey?”

I square my shoulders. “What do you mean?” He can’t possibly know that—deep down—my end game might be an excuse to be close to him. An excuse that comes with an escape clause.

“I mean, what are you hoping to accomplish?” he asks. “What arewehoping for?”

Gulp. Oh that. “I guess I’m hoping my mom will learn she can’t fool me. Or control me. Or whatever.”

“Okay.” He nods. “But what will Brady and Nat learn?”

I huff out a laugh. “Thatweprankedthem.” I’m expecting to feel triumphant, but my stomach’s more hollow than anything else. I spent half my life resenting being Brady’s doormat. What if I’m swinging the pendulum too far in the opposite direction? Still, I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to focus on being close to Beau for one night. Even if it’s pretend. Even if it’s brief. That’s still better than nothing.

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