“You know as well as I do that Tino and I would kill each other if we were really together,” I said, ignoring the small flutter in my chest as I said the words. The idea of anything being real between Tino and me should have disgusted me. Half the reason I agreed to this fake relationship was to prove to him just how incompatible we were—I was just getting mixed up from the way he was acting as my fake boyfriend. I was sure he wouldn’t be nearly as good as a real boyfriend, right?
“I think you’re in denial,” Poppy said.
“You’re out of your mind. Now can we talk about anything else?”
“Fine,” Poppy said, flopping onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands. “So, you’ve got your dress for the award show, right?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it.”
“No.”
She made an exaggerated gasp. “Why not?”
“Because every time I show you something, you start adding accessories and talking about Tino’s reaction.”
“Fine,” she said, unbothered. “Describe it then. I’ll imagine it.”
I sighed but gave in. “It’s long and blue.”
Poppy made a face. “You are really bad at this. But anyway, hear me out—you could do something with your hair that says ‘I’m pretending not to be in love with my fake boyfriend.’”
“Poppy,” I said in warning.
“What? I’m being supportive!”
I zipped the bag shut before she could sneak anything else in, then checked my phone. Tino had texted me ten minutes ago.
Tino
Packing done. I’ll be over in the next 30 mins
Poppy noticed my smile and pounced immediately. “Who’s that?”
“Tino.”
Her grin widened. “You smiled.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You totally did.”
I gave up trying to argue and sat down on the bed beside her. “Are you done psychoanalyzing my fake relationship?”
“Almost,” she said cheerfully. “Do you want my travel-sized perfume?”
“No.”
“Because it’s the one that makes people fall in love with you.”
This was clearly revenge for how much I annoyed her when I was trying to convince her to get with Bear, but in my defense, the two of them had been made for each other. It was a completely different situation than the one I was in with Tino.
Luckily, I was saved from needing to answer that by a knock on the door. I walked to the door, stopping only for a moment to check how my hair was looking in the mirror before I opened it. I chose to ignore Poppy’s smirk that I saw in the reflection.
Tino stood in the doorway, tall and freshly showered, wearing a gray hoodie and dark jeans and the kind of effortlesssmirk that made it very hard to remember he wasn’t my real boyfriend. His hair was still damp at the ends, curling slightly over his forehead.
“Hey,” he said, in that low, easy voice. “You ready?”
