“Yeah?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m happy you finally told Drew how you feel about him.” Ryan’s smile is small but genuine.
My entire body goes cold, then hot, then cold again. The blood drains from my face as Ryan disappears out the door.
The silence that follows is deafening. My heart pounds so hard, I’m convinced Drew can hear it. I can’t look at him. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“Jackson.” Drew’s voice is careful, measured. “What did Ryan mean by that?”
My brain scrambles for an explanation, any explanation that isn’t the truth. Because the truth is that I’m in love with my fake boyfriend, and Ryan just accidentally outed me. My hands are shaking. I shove them under my thighs.
“I…” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “I had to tell him something.”
“Tell him what?” Drew hasn’t moved from the bed, but I can feel his eyes boring into me.
“About us. About why I went from denying we were together to suddenly dating you.” The lie forms as I speak, each word tasting more bitter than ipecac. “He was suspicious. You know how observant he is. So I told him that I’d been harboringfeelings for you and finally worked up the courage to say something.”
It’s not entirely a lie.
“You told Ryan you have feelings for me?” Drew’s voice is strange, almost strangled.
“Had to make it believable.” I force myself to meet his eyes, to sell this lie even though it’s killing me. “He’s my roommate. He’d know if I was faking the whole thing.”
And now I’m lying to Drew about lying to Ryan, and my head spins with the layers of dishonesty.
I’m the worst person alive.
“That was smart,” Drew finally says right as my heart is about to explode. “Making him think that. Very method acting of you.”
Method acting.Right. Because that’s all this is to him—a performance. My chest aches with the weight of everything I can’t say.
“I’m hungry,” I say, desperate to change the subject.
“Pizza sound good?” Drew asks.
I nod, and we spend the rest of the afternoon quoting iconic movie lines at each other and stuffing our faces with cheesy slices of pizza. We argue about whether football players can play hockey and vice versa. We wrestle for the remote, and I let him win when my cock starts to stiffen.
It’s easy, comfortable, and everything I’ve ever wanted. I can only hope that it never ends.
16
JACKSON
“Istill don’t understand why you needed new shoes urgently enough to drag me here at nine in the morning,” Ryan says, adjusting his wool coat. Even for a mall trip, he’s dressed as though he’s attending a business meeting—pressed khakis, Oxford shirt, and those perpetual loafers.
“My old ones are falling apart.”
We head toward Foot Locker, passing store windows that reflect my disheveled appearance. I threw on jeans and a BSU hoodie without thinking, and now I’m wondering if I should have put more effort into it.Do fake boyfriends dress better for mall trips?
“Jackson.” Ryan’s voice cuts through my spiral. “I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you.”
The way he says it makes my skin prickle. We duck into Foot Locker, where the walls are lined with sneakers in every color imaginable and hip-hop music thumps from the speakers.
“What’s up?” I pretend to examine a pair of Nikes.
Ryan shifts his stance and fixes me with that analytical stare he gets when he’s about to dissect something…or someone. “I’venoticed you’ve been quite tense lately. Particularly when you’re with Drew.”
My hand freezes on the shoe. “I’m fine,” I say automatically.
