Finally, he looks up, setting the manuscript down carefully. "Elise, this is really good. Like, really good."
I wave a dismissive hand. "You don't have to?—"
"I'm serious. This is publishable. Better than half the horror novels I've read."
I want to ignore it, but a warm glow spreads through my chest. "Thank you."
"Can I show this to someone I know? I have a contact who might be interested."
I blink in surprise. "You don't have to do that."
"I want to."
"Yeah. Sure. Okay."
Eventually, he glances at his watch. "I should probably head out. I have an early practice tomorrow."
I nod, ignoring the disappointment that settles in my stomach. We both stand, and I walk him to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, turning to face me.
"No backing out now," he says, echoing his words from earlier, but his eyes say something else entirely.
I think about the kiss, about how far gone I already am, how dangerously close I am to forgetting this is all pretend. "Who says I'm going anywhere?"
For a moment, we just look at each other. I can see him debating whether to kiss me again, but he doesn't.
"See you soon, Elise."
And then he's gone, the door closes behind him.
I press my fingers to my lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss. My body aches with unfulfilled desire, my heart racing with something that feels dangerously like hope.
I'm in so much trouble.
Because after that kiss, I know the truth.
This isn't fake for me.
Maybe it never was.
===
4
ELIAS
I've been in a fog for three days.
Three fucking days since I had Elise in my lap, her skin under my fingers, her mouth against mine. Three days of cold showers and sleepless nights, replaying every gasp, every shudder, every grind of her hips against mine.
After team practice, I'm first out the door, phone already in hand. I've typed and deleted the same text to Elise at least twenty times over the past three days. The "practice" excuse is so fucking transparent a child could see through it, but I can't come up with anything better.
I sit in my car, staring at my phone. Finally, I start typing.
Me: Need to finalize reunion details. My place tonight?
Simple. Straightforward. Complete, utter bullshit.
I hit send before I can overthink it again, then immediately regret it. Who the fuck says "finalize details" about a high school reunion?
