I flip through the channels until I find a movie already playing. Drew smiles at the selection—Sixteen Candles. “What I wouldn’t give to have me some of that Jake Ryan.”
“Your fake boyfriend is sitting right here, you know?” I say, giving him my best death glare.
“What?” He snickers. “You mean to say that if that guy”—he points to Jake on the screen staring at Sam in class—“asked you to the dance, you’d turn him down?”
Truth be told, high school me would have stammered something about not being into guys and made a joke about preferring Sam’s sister. But college me, who said yes when Drew suggested this whole fake dating thing?
I agreed to fake date Drew because some desperate, pathetic part of me wanted to know what it would be like to hold his hand. To kiss him and have an excuse. To pretend, even for a few months, that Drew Larney could want me.
“Earth to Jackson.” Drew nudges me with his elbow. “You’re thinking so loud I can practically hear the gears grinding.”
“I was considering the question,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the TV where Sam is now bemoaning that her friend didn’t get the survey.
“And?”
I’m in love with you. And every time you touch me, I die a little more inside because I know it doesn’t mean to you what it means to me.
“Jake Ryan’s pretty hot,” I say instead.
Drew laughs. “See? Everyone’s a little gay for Jake Ryan. It’s science.”
We settle into watching the movie, and by the time we get to the house party scenes, we’ve ended up under the covers to stay warm.
I turn my head slightly. In the blue-white flicker from the TV, Drew’s jaw is sharp enough to cut glass one moment, then soft and boyish the next. His eyelashes—longer than they have any right to be—fan against his skin. He’s beautiful in a way that makes my toes curl.
What would happen if I told him? If I opened my mouth and let the truth spill out? Maybe he wouldn’t run. Maybe he’d smile and say he feels the same. Maybe we would stop pretending and be real boyfriends.
In my mind, I can see it perfectly. The movie would end, and “If You Were Here” by the Thompson Twins would still be playing. I’d turn to him and say, “Drew, I need to tell you something.” He’d smile at me with those hazel eyes shining brightly, and I’d be brave for once in my life. “This isn’t fake for me,” I’d say. “It never was.”
And then he’d blink, slowly and seductively, and say, “Thank God, because it’s not fake for me either.”
We’d meet in the middle, the kiss different from all our staged ones. This one would be for us. His hand would cup my jaw, and I’d finally get to touch him the way I’ve wanted to for months. Years, if I’m being honest.
The fantasy is vivid enough that I can almost taste it. Drew’s mouth on mine, his fingers in my hair, the weight of himpressing me into the mattress. We’d make out like teenagers while that song played, and everything would be perfect and?—
“Jackson.”
The voice is wrong. Too high, too formal.
“Jackson, what are you doing?”
A hand on my arm, smaller than Drew’s, shakes me gently. My eyes fly open to find Ryan standing over us, his expression full of confusion and annoyance.
Oh, God. Oh, no.I’m pressed against Drew’s side, my arm thrown over his waist, and my hips are moving in small, unconscious thrusts against his thigh. My dick is rock hard in my jeans, and there’s no way Drew hasn’t noticed because I’ve been humping him in my sleep. “Ryan! I—we were?—”
“You’re on my bed,” Ryan says, his tone eerily calm.
The TV is still on; the credits are rolling. How long was I asleep? How long was I…shit, I want to die. I need the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
Drew’s head is tucked into the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. He’s snoring softly—these little huffing sounds that shouldn’t be cute but totally are—and there’s a small wet spot on my shirt where he’s been drooling.
My heart does a complicated gymnastics routine as I realize we must have fallen asleep watching the movie. Drew’s arm is thrown across my stomach, his body curled into mine as if he belongs there. In sleep, all his usual bravado is gone. He looks younger, softer, completely unguarded.
Heat floods my face as I try to sit up without disturbing him. “We were watching a movie and…and nothing happened! I swear we didn’t do anything in your bed.”
Ryan’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Youdidn’thave sex in my bed?”
“No!” The word explodes out of me, loud enough that Drew stirs, mumbling something unintelligible before burrowingdeeper into my shoulder. “Jesus, Ryan, no! We watched a movie and passed out. Fully clothed! See?”
