“You know, I always thought your jaw was sharp enough to cut a razor. I never imagined it would be the other way around.”
Nate chokes up a laugh at that one, and I can’t help but smile.
This is easy. Nice. And for some reason, he seems to be dismantling all the misconceptions I once had about relationships. Romantic. Platonic. I’d been hurt in the past—it’s the reason I was so closed off—but there’s something about Nate that makes me want to open up.
“You know I hate blood,” I say without thinking.
Nate nods. “I know.”
This takes me aback. “How do you?”
“Remember that day we were sitting in the janitor’s closet? You mentioned it while explaining why you didn’t want to become a doctor.”
My mouth gapes in shock at the confession because I don’t ever recall myself telling him that. But it all vanishes on a loud gasp when my body is flung on top of his. I squeal as he wraps his arms around my waist.
“Let me go.” I try to squirm out of his grasp.
“Is that such a way to greet your fiancé?”
Again, I try to wiggle away. “My fiancé is holding me captive. I fear there’s no real way to greet him.”
“You can start with a kiss.”
I roll my eyes with a smile. This man is unbelievable.
“I’m on the verge of dying from famine. Are you not feeling remotely the same?”
Despite the added weight on top of him, he still manages to shrug. “That’s a you problem. I have breakfast right here.” He palms my ass and squeezes hard.
I punch his side in disbelief, earning me one of the richest laughs I’ve heard in a while.
“Give me a kiss, and I’ll forget you ever did that,” he says.
“No food. No kiss.” I lift my head to look into his eyes.
“No kiss. No food.”
I let out a sigh, caving in and pressing my lips on his.
What was supposed to be a peck turns more passionate.
His hand drifts down the curve of my waist, grabbing my hip. The other cradles my face with such reverence that it’s hard not to melt into his touch. Eventually, we resurface for air, panting so harshly I feel like the world is spinning.
“That didn’t count.” He leans back in to kiss me, and I let him, willingly.
No thoughts of growly stomachs cross my mind because I’ve come to realize one thing—I’m hungry for Nate. His touch.His sweetness. His care for me. I’ve never done drugs, but the all-consuming effect he has on me may as well be equivalent.
The inevitable crash after the dopamine rush? That's a problem for later.
“Did that one count?” I whisper against his lips, so far out of my mind that I don’t give him the chance to answer before I’m leaning back. It’s just a peck. Something small. Light. Airy. But with the lazy smile on his face, I already know his answer.
“I don’t think it did. Might have to try again.”
I give him one last kiss before rolling off the bed and checking my phone.
There is a slew of unread messages—some from my two favorite elders asking me how I’m doing, others from Evelyn and Sutton, asking similar questions as if they hadn’t sabotaged my wardrobe to push me toward my fake fiancé.
I mean, it worked—but I won’t be admitting that to them anytime soon.
