“Jackson, talk to me!” Drew’s face hovers inches from mine, hazel eyes wide with concern. “Should I call someone? The health center? An ambulance? A priest?”
“Just…give me…a second,” I struggle to say through gritted teeth.
“God, I’m the worst fake boyfriend ever.” He runs his hands through his messy hair. “Do you want me to…” He pauses, and I see the exact moment a terrible idea forms in his brain. “Do you want me to kiss them better?”
I jerk my head upright with enough force that my neck audibly cracks. “What?”
Drew’s face is turning pink, but he doubles down because that’s what he does. “You know, like when you were a kid, and your mom kissed your boo-boos?”
“You’re seriously offering to kiss my balls?”Please say yes.
“I mean…” He shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve done this week.”
Heat floods my face, and I’m acutely aware that I’m still cupping my junk while Drew stares at me with an expression that I can’t identify. I’m extremely close to passing out from thinking about Drew’s mouth anywhere near my crotch. “That’s not—you can’t—we’refakedating!”
“Right.Fakedating. Obviously. I was joking.”
The room is suddenly too small, too warm, too full of Drew’s presence. He’s wearing black socks on his big feet, gray sweatpants that have molded to his thick thighs, and his long-sleeved shirt is rucked up, revealing a strip of skin. I force myself to straighten up, to ignore the lingering ache in my balls and the new, different ache in my chest.
“We’re terrible at this,” I say, gesturing at the space we’ve cleared in my dorm room for our rehearsal.
“We’re notterrible,” Drew protests, then immediately trips over his own feet, catching himself on my dresser. “Okay, we might be terrible.”
“We’re going to be eaten alive. People are going to see through our ruse?—”
“Only if we keep trying to choreograph something. So…what if we didn’t?”
“Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t plan anything. What if we went out there and”—he waves his hands around vaguely—“vibed.”
“Vibed?Your grand plan is tovibe?”
“Think about it!” He’s getting excited now, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Every time we try to plan something, I end up decking you. But if we wing it, if we be ourselves, maybe it’ll work.”
He’s right, which is annoying. Real moments are the unscripted ones. A forehead touch here, brushing pinkies there. We need to stop trying and just…be.
“You want us to show up and hope for the best?” I ask.
“We show up andtrusteach other. Because that’s what builds relationships, right? We need to show everyone that we trust each other, Jacky. Without that, we really are faking it.” Drew flops backward onto Ryan’s perfectly made bed. I try not to think about how Ryan would have an aneurysm if he knew. “Besides, I’m exhausted. Who knew fake dating required this much cardio?”
“Pretty sure that’s just your violent interpretation of dancing.”
“Hey!” He props himself up on his elbows to glare at me. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent dancer when I’m drunk. And the lights are low. And no one’s watching.”
“So never.”
“Exactly.” He grins, then pats the space next to him on Ryan’s bed. “Come on, let’s watch a romance movie. We can claim it’s research for being a convincing couple.”
I hesitate. Sitting on a bed with Drew sounds dangerous, even if it’s not my bed. No.Especiallybecause it’s not my bed.But he’s staring at me with puppy-dog eyes, and I’m weak, so I carefully lower myself onto Ryan’s military-crisp comforter.
“Scoot over,” I say when Drew doesn’t move. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
Drew immediately rearranges himself until he’s properly on the bed, back against Ryan’s pristine pillows. I settle next to him, hyperaware of every inch where our bodies aren’t quite touching but could be.
“What should we watch?” I ask, grabbing the remote control.
“Something cheesy.”
