Maya gave a victorious squeal and snapped the photo. “God. You two are addictive.”
Finn didn’t move away from her; his thumb caressed her lower back as she trembled in his arms.
Sam raised her face to Finn. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
He grinned. “Doing my best for the camera—right?”
For the camera. His words thudded in her chest as he moved away from her. The bar suddenly got louder as someone climbed up on the bar and began dancing as if they were auditioning for a part inCoyote Ugly. It wasn’t long before someone else joined them and then another shot was in Sam’s hand. With a laugh of disbelief, Sam looked around, slightly stunned to see how crazy the crowd was. It was almost a physical enactment of what she imagined was going on in her brain right now. Her thoughts were all over the place, on her sport, her father, and most of all, on Finn and how he’d just said: “… for the camera—right?” so calmly, because she wasn’t calm at all.
Someone bumped into her, and she staggered against the barstool, grasping the bar to steady herself. Her eyes flickered around the room. Everything was loud, too bright, and beating way too fast, but her heart, it felt as if it was slowing down.
“Sam?” Finn called her. He dipped his head to speak in her ear again. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” She took a breath, her heart hammering. “I just didn’t think pretending would feel so real.”
Finn’s smile faltered, just for a second. His eyes dropped from hers, like the weight of something unsaid pulled at him. When he looked back up, the light in them had dimmed slightly, and his jaw tensed—like he wanted to speak but couldn’t.
“Same,” he said. Then after a beat: “But we’re still pretending, right?”
Sam downed her second shot. She didn’t answer him, not because she didn’t want to, but because Maya was taking the shot glass from her and reprimanding her for drinking before a final.
“Girl—what are you doing? I said just one!” Maya gave her a pointed look. “Final tomorrow. Remember that little thing—the actual reason why we’re here.”
“Urgh, you’re so right.” Sam relinquished her shot glass although all she wanted to do was to have it refilled immediately. How could Finn be so cool? She really wanted to talk to him, to clear up what they were playing so dangerously at. She zipped up her jacket and touched his arm softly. “You coming?”
Finn hesitated, then shook his head. “I think I’ll stick around for a bit. If you’re okay with that?”
“Sure, of course.” Sam nodded; a flicker of sadness flared inside her. She really wanted to talk to him, to try figure out what they were now. Something between them had shifted, and she needed to talk to him, her best friend, about it.
Just as she turned away, Finn reached for her hand. Shelooked back, startled—and then he stepped in, close, one arm pulling her to him, his other hand gently under her chin, tilting her face to his as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
“Don’t worry about tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice barely above the music. “Go to bed, rest, and have sweet dreams.”
Before she could reply, he leaned down and kissed her, a soft gentle brush against her lips. It was simple, natural, and it lingered long enough for her to touch his face, her thoughts scrambling as he smiled against her mouth. Her heart twisted as she pulled away slowly, her eyes searching his face for some clue as to what he was thinking—no—feeling. But Finn just smiled, soft and unreadable.
“Night, Sam.”
“Night,” she said quietly, then turned and stepped out into the cold night air, questions trailing after her like falling snow.
Behind her the fun was only getting started in the bar. The heavy beat of a club classic started up and the crowd roared in appreciation. Sam walked away, loneliness curling in her stomach. She didn’t want to leave Finn. Touching her lips softly, she wished he’d come with her. She wanted his arms around her—for real—not for their plan. She power-walked past other revelers and bars that were filled to capacity. It was as if everyone was in party mode. The town was electric. Sam sighed as she caught a couple kissing passionately outside a closed store, unafraid of who saw them. She wanted that—wanted to kiss Finn in front of everyone out in the open. Her shoulders drooped. Clearly, he didn’t, orhe’d be right beside her, walking her back to her hotel, but here she was, striding through the bitterly cold night alone, her heart longing for him and feeling more heartsore with each passing moment.
Maybe this fake-dating idea wasn’t the best plan, and there was no one she could talk to about it, because Finn was the person she always went to when she needed someone—and now she couldn’t. A flash of anger flared up inside her—this was the first time she’d ever felt like she couldn’t talk freely with him, and it was horrible. She cringed at her own pathetic behavior, at how she’d simpered and fallen completely for his act.
Her hands curled into fists as confusion and frustration built up inside her. Hell, back in the shower he’d behaved as if they were together. But that was when they were in the shower and not seen by anyone, and then there was earlier—he’d walked as fast as he could, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. He even let her go when his fans had been taking photos of them and then had put on an act in the bar on Maya’s command. It was as if it was all for show, that there was nothing else to it.
It hadn’t always been like that though. Once upon a time he’d been crazy for her, but that was years ago. Prom night. That one moment she should’ve seized, but instead she’d made him a promise to put their careers first. Huffing, Sam felt tears prickle at the backs of her eyes. Maybe he didn’t remember that night the way she did. Maybe he didn’t remember saying that they could revise the plan later. She’d tucked that little nugget of hope away in her heart, waiting for the moment he would say it was time to think about itall over again. Had she imagined him saying it—had she projected her own desires on her memories for all these years?
“Sam! Hold up!”
Sam turned around and inwardly groaned as her brother gamboled toward her, his limp more pronounced than it had been in a while. The last thing she wanted right now was company, but he seemed a little down, as if he really didn’t want to be alone.
“Hey,” she said as he fell in step beside her. “Your leg—is it sore?”
He grimaced. “It’s the cold—it makes everything ache like it happened yesterday.”
“Oh.” Sam glanced at Leo. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, thanks.” Leo didn’t look at her. “I’ll be fine. Well done today, by the way.”
