Fake It 'Til You Break It (Fake Girlfriend Book 1) Read online

  I tilt my head, conceding to his point. “True, but we’re lacking in other aspects.”

  “And that’s what we’re going to work on today.”

  I swallow down my food as I wonder if he means what I think. “What’s that?” I ask as casually as I can while everything within me is screaming for his answer.

  His eyes remain on mine as he slips my fork from my fingers and lays it on the bar. “Things like this,” he murmurs, sliding my plate away so he can invade my personal space. “Physical closeness, intimate touches”—his lips brush against mine—“soft kisses.”

  I lick my lips, wanting to savor his essence. “Is that all?” I ask softly, afraid to break the spell between us.

  He hasn’t moved away, and his eyes are still trained on my lips. “I’m not sure.” His questioning eyes flick to mine. “Should we maybe, uh, I don’t know, try—”

  Overwhelmed by his closeness and emboldened by his uncertainty, I stop his words by pressing forward for a firmer, longer kiss. He stills for one second before he anchors his fingers to my waist and moves back in. His breaths are erratic, much like his movements, but I allow him to lead, to take this journey however far he’s willing. Our tongues tangle like vines, slowly and methodically becoming more intertwined as we discover each other.

  I don’t think about the reason behind our actions. All I can think about is him. The way his fingers dig into my waist, the way his head tilts to drive deeper, the way his eyes are tightly closed. The first kiss that isn’t really a kiss at all.

  “Fake!” my mind screams, jarring me back to reality and forcing me to bring the most beautiful experience of my life to an end. As I withdraw, it’s almost as if he remembers where he is and what we’re doing, but instead of freaking out internally like I am, he remains casual—reluctant even.

  His hand trails up my body, skating across my arm and landing on my shoulder before cupping my jaw and brushing his thumb over my cheek. “Interesting,” he mutters, his brown gaze scanning over my face to rest on my eyes. “I think we’ll be just fine.” His smile is breathtaking and triumphant. “In fact, Elaine will be pleased.”

  Heat floods my cheeks as I remember it’s all part of the act for him. Instead of commenting further on the kiss, I bypass it for safer conversation. “Is that your mother’s name?”

  “Shit!” he exclaims, suddenly withdrawing from my personal space, leaving it cold and empty. “Facts. We can’t forget those pesky little things.” He looks to the stove, eyeing the pan of enchiladas. “How about we eat a couple more of those and get to know each other better. Backgrounds and stuff?”

  I swallow my disappointment and offer the best smile I can muster. “Sure, sounds great.”

  “So yes, let’s start with my mother,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “Her name is Elaine Dixon, and she’s probably the nicest person you could ever meet. She’s a stay-at-home wife to my doctor father, and she dedicates her free time to charity.”

  “And your father?” I ask, enjoying the light in his eyes as he speaks of his family. “What’s his name?”

  Zane chuckles, and it’s this rich, inviting sound. “Archibald,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Though his friends call him Archie, and his patients call him Doctor Dixon.”

  “That …” I search for the proper word. I didn’t think people still named their kids things like that. “I like it.”

  He grins. “That’s sweet of you but also not necessary. He hates it.”

  “No, I’m serious.” I spear another bite of enchilada. “It’s different. Unique. Who wants a boring name that everyone else has?”

  “Aren’t you lucky, then,” he says, getting up and taking his plate with him as he moves to the stove to help himself to more food. “Valentine is also a unique name.”

  “It is.” I shove the bite into my mouth and chew thoughtfully. “My mother is wild and untamed like that.”

  He rests his plate on the counter and retakes his seat beside me, angling in my direction. “You don’t sound like that’s a good thing.”

  I shrug one shoulder, pushing past the bitterness I always feel when I think of her. “I guess I should consider myself lucky she stayed at all. Eight years is a long time to be in one spot for her.”

  “I take it you’re not close.”

  “If you consider a card once a year, always from somewhere different, not close, then I suppose you’re right.”

  “I’m sorry.” He reaches out and settles his warm hand on my knee. All of the angst over my mother evaporates. “Trust me, I know how lucky I am to have parents like mine.” He sighs, squeezing gently. “That’s why I’m willing to put you through this to make my mom happy. She means the world to me, and I don’t want her to worry while I’m here.”

  I smile. “It’s sweet in a twisted way.”

  He throws his head back and laughs his pretty laugh. “Tell me more,” he says, lifting his fork. “You talk. I’ll eat. I want to know all about Valentine Cox.”

  “She’s pretty boring, really,” I reply, searching for something to tell him that might sound even a little exciting. “My dad’s a fireman. He’s been with the Grand Junction department since he was nineteen years old.”

  “Has he made Chief yet?”

  “Yep. For ten years almost.” I bobble my head to his know-it-all self. “His father was also in the fire department, but he never made it that high. He was killed in a house fire while saving a ten-year-old little boy.”

  “How old was your father when it happened?”

  “Fifteen,” I reply, thinking of how proud my dad is when he thinks back on his own father’s heroics. “You’d think it’d deter him, but it didn’t. He’s proud as hell of my grandfather, and that little boy is his best friend and the assistant chief.”

  “That’s pretty great,” Zane replies, pushing his empty plate away. “Who knew someone so normal was hiding such an amazing family history?”

  “Normal is relative.” I snort, grabbing up both our plates. “Your turn. I know your dad’s a doctor, but what’s his specialty?”

  “Pediatric Neurology,” he says, smirking. “He really does shape young minds.”

  I bark a laugh at his joke. “How long have you been waiting to use that one?”

  “Ohhhh.” He grabs his stomach as if I’ve punched him in the gut. “You wound me.”

  I return to the bar, propping my elbows across the edge, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips. There are so many other things I’d like to do to him. “Do you need me to kiss it and make it better?”

  As soon as the words are out, I wish I could suck them back in, but he surprises me. “Maybe.” His coffee brown eyes spark with something new, and he leans closer. “Maybe we should practice that part of the equation a little more.”

  I lick my lips to quell the aching need to press them against his. “For what I’m being paid, I’d be a fool to object.”

  The light in his eyes dims, but he doesn’t retreat. He stays put for only a second before pushing forward. The kiss is a soft peck of the lips before he goes to pull back, but I don’t allow him. Grabbing his shoulders, I keep him close, my eyes on his until they fall closed at the second contact. He opens without prompting, and I slip my tongue between his lips.

  He tastes like spicy boy with a touch of enchilada sauce, and it’s heavenly. I get lost in the planes of his mouth, enjoying this new element between us. Of course, I realize it isn’t real, but what could it hurt to pretend? For the next two holidays, he’s mine for the world outside of college to see. I might as well enjoy it.

  He grins sheepishly as we break apart. “That’s nice.”

  “Nice,” I repeat, lifting a brow. “I’d call it hot. That was so freaking hot.”

  He looks pensive, thoughtful. “It’s such a strange concept for me, but I have to agree. It was fucking hot.” He smirks then, his lips twitching. “I’m not sure what I expected, but that wasn’t it.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you saying you didn’t think I could kiss?”

  His eyes roam my face before he shakes his head once. “I’m saying I’ve honestly never thought about it before.”

  “Wow.” I do the whole fake gutted thing like he did earlier, except I really do feel it. It’s cold and painful. “Way to crush a girl.”

  “Bright side.” He shrugs, eyeing me in a way that soothes the ache. “That’s completely been wiped off the table. I’ll be hard-pressed to forget it now.”

  I laugh lightly. “That’s one way to put it.”

  He stays for a couple more hours, and during that time, we each learn a million useless things about the other. There’s no more intimacy, no more practice, no mention of our kisses at all. We’re just two friends chilling while learning an awful lot about who the other is outside of college life.

  Chapter 3

  When Zane picks me up for Thanksgiving dinner, my nerves are at an all-time high, but his soothing presence, along with his ability to slip into his role so effortlessly, immediately puts me at ease. Not to mention his warm hand on my back as he leads me to his parents’ car, his thoughtful squeeze of my hand as his mother peppers me with questions during the ride to the restaurant, and his wink when I answer them all without missing a beat.

  “I’m surprised Zane was able to keep you under wraps for so long,” Elaine says just after we’re settled at a table. “Seeing the way he smiles now, I’m upset that I didn’t notice it before.”

  I push a strand of dark hair behind my ear. “I’m sure that isn’t all me, Mrs. Dixon. He’s probably just happy to see his mother after so long.”

  “One, call me Elaine,” she says, lifting a brow, “and two, I’m sure he’s very happy to see me, but there’s something else.” She places her finger on her chin as she studies hi
m. “A light in his eyes I’ve never seen before.”

  “He is right here,” Zane breaks in, motioning to himself. “And Valentine is correct. It’s been months since I’ve seen you, and you do look fabulous, Mom.”

  Elaine Dixon is a poised and charming woman whose infectious smile and buoyant spirit make it simple for me to understand exactly why he wants to give her this gift—even if only for now. She’s simply delighted to learn every possible thing about me, without being pushy or invasive. It’s obvious she truly wants her son to be happy, and she thinks I make him that way.

  Archibald clears his throat. “That, she does, son.” His tender gaze is on his wife, and it makes me wistful for what they have.

  Zane’s father is a doting workaholic husband whose only concern is his wife’s smile and his son’s good grades. He’s a quiet man, the complete opposite of his wife. His expression is warm every time he gazes at her or his son or even me. He’s just an all around kind and caring man.

  Before now, I’d never been on the lookout for a life-affirming relationship, but seeing these two and knowing they achieved it in college is making me wish I could have that ease. There has to be a level of peace when you know you’ve found your soulmate.

  “Now you boys are trying to make me blush,” Elaine says.

  “They do have that effect,” I say conspiratorially, winking.

  A giggle trills across the table. “You’re definitely a keeper, Valentine.”

  I lean in as if I’m sharing a secret with Mrs. Dixon. “I’d like to think so, but this thing between us is pretty new.”

  We’re interrupted by the server as he breaks in to take our orders, so she’s unable to respond. I do want to build an illusion, fulfill her wish for her son to have a steady girlfriend, but I don’t want to lull her into thinking I’m the one. That’d be a disaster in the making.

  Zane’s hand slips below the table and he props it on my thigh. It’s in a respectable spot, and I’m sure it’s meant to be an appreciative gesture, but all it really does is send my nerve endings into hyperdrive. I want him to slip it higher and do unspeakable things while his parents sit across the table none the wiser.

  To keep my raging hormones in check, I bring my hand down and clasp his, bringing them both on top of the table. I don’t miss the beaming smile on Elaine’s face or the nudge she gives her husband. I also don’t miss the way my stomach flips when Zane gives me a sexy wink.

  He leans in close and speaks in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to imply impure things. I just really appreciate the way you handled my mom.”

  I turn to meet his gaze, the air between us thick. “It’s cool. I didn’t want to give them the wrong impression of me.”

  His lips twitch. “And what impression would that be?”

  I lick my lips to drive my point home. “That you were fingering me beneath the table.”

  He chokes, going into a coughing fit right there at the table, and I might smirk to myself. He asked for it. The rest of dinner goes by like the first part. Light conversation leads the way, and it doesn’t take long for Zane to get over his little fit and jump back into his role. Maybe he gave it some thought and is just as turned on as me.

  Who knows?

  But what I do know is that by the end of the night, I’ve almost forgotten that none of this is real.

  And it feels like Zane has too.

  “You were perfect tonight, Valentine,” he breathes. We’re standing in my doorway, neither willing to walk away just yet. “Did you see my mom’s smile? She was fucking beaming. She loved you.”

  “She’s not always like that?” I ask, just to keep him here a moment longer.

  “She’s a naturally happy person, but not like tonight,” he says, stepping closer. “That was all due to you.”

  His breath caresses my skin as he leans in, and I hold mine as his mouth finds purchase on my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, then my lips. Unable to fight the pull, I lean into him, taking every moment he’s willing to give. But it’s not as much as I’d hoped. It’s never enough.

  “Thank you, Valentine,” he says as he pulls away without deepening it. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  It turns out, I see him Saturday instead. Just a short visit for no particular reason, and I’m soaring, reading more into it than I probably should. Nothing happens, but him wanting to spend time in my presence is enough—for now.

  The following weeks share the same pattern. There are no more kisses, caresses, or intimate moments, but he pops in without warning several times, each one making me giddy inside. Our friends are still clueless, and the secret itself is like an aphrodisiac, making our non-relationship seem like more in my mind.

  My hopes are dashed the week of finals when I join our friends at the table, interrupting a seemingly innocent conversation. Carson, Zane, and Kevin are rehashing a date Zane had the night before. I’m crushed, but I do everything I can to pretend I’m not listening as they talk about this girl, Julia. Apparently, she’s an art major who’s very liberal—in every sense. Once the conversation drifts there, I hastily make my escape.

  He doesn’t stop in for the rest of the week.

  On Saturday, a week before Christmas, we have our last get-together of the year. Rachael and Kevin’s flight is at noon, and Zane and Carson’s is later tonight. Alexa and I aren’t leaving until tomorrow afternoon. As I arrive at the dining hall, my backpack loaded with various sweets as a gift to my friends, I notice that only Carson and Zane are here.

  Their heads are tucked together as they have an intense-looking conversation. I slow my steps, afraid of intruding. “Hi, guys,” I announce loudly from several feet away. Zane’s head lifts at the sound of my voice, and he seems annoyed. My feet falter but only slightly.

  “Hey, Valley V,” Carson says, almost too brightly. “What ya got in the bag?”

  I take Alexa’s typical chair, two spaces over from Zane, and prop my bag on my usual chair so it doesn’t feel so obvious. “Gifts,” I say without looking up. I riffle through the bag and pull out a container. “Here ya go, Carson. Fresh baked chocolate chip cookies for you.”

  “Ha, I knew it,” Carson says, snagging them quickly.

  I push another container filled with peanut butter brownies across the table. “And these are for you, Zane.”

  “Thanks, Valentine,” he says, not even meeting my eyes.

  Before I can ask what the hell his problem is, Kevin and Rachael join us, the former immediately demanding his own treat. By the time I’ve given them their sweets, Alexa arrives and I pull the final container from the bag, removing it so she can have a seat. No one notices that Zane is especially quiet or that I moved from the same chair I’ve sat in for over two years.

  If they do, they don’t mention it.

  I spend the rest of the day packing and second-guessing everything. Zane bought my ticket weeks ago, citing it was cheaper to buy them all than just my trip to Chicago and home, and I let him. It even fueled some of my fantasies of this meaning more to him. After today, I wonder if I should even go to Chicago.

  The doorbell chimes just as I finish zipping my suitcase. With Alexa at work and me not expecting anyone, I’m cautious as I approach the door and even more leery when I see who’s on the other side.

  “Zane?” I say his name like a question.

  He looks tired and agitated. “Can we talk, Val?”

  I pull the door wide. “Sure.”

  This is it. All the uncertainty from earlier rushes through me with an additional side of dread. My fantasy is about to die before my very eyes.

  Closing the door, I follow him to the living room and offer him a seat on the sofa, opting to take the chair for myself. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  He shakes his head, propping his elbows on his knees. “No, I’d like to apologize. I was an asshole earlier, and it had nothing to do with you. In fact, I’ve been an asshole all week. I should’ve never gone out with Julia.”

  My brows rise, as this whole situation isn’t unfolding as I expected. “No? You’re free to date who you want. Our deal is fake, remember?”

  “I remember,” he says to the floor. “But still, I let Carson goad me into going out with her, and it was wrong. I know our deal is fake, but I’ve enjoyed every minute we’ve spent together, and I don’t want it to end.”