Page 85 of Fake Crown

“I’m still not sure about West.” Nadiya shrugs. “Love is unpredictable.”

Destiny smacks Nadiya’s arm. “That’s not a helpful comment. Our girl is dipping her toes in the love fountain. You gotta help ease her in.”

“The problem is,” I say, “I feel like I might be neck-deep in the water already.”

“Oh my god.” Destiny clutches her heart. “Our girl is in love.”

There’s playful mocking in her tone, but I’m too focused on my racing heart. “I can’t tell him that, though, right? It’s like way, way too early for the L bomb.” The thought of saying the words causes sweat to pool under my arms.

Nadiya stares at the post on her phone. “We’ve all learned social media is not representative of real life, but look at Brent’s feed... it’s swimming, and it’s you. You know how much he loves getting wet.”

That elicits a laugh, and the tension eases out of me a pinch. “Do I ever.” I give her an exaggerated wink.

“Your sexual innuendoes are wasted on me,” Nadiya says.

The downstairs buzzer sounds, and I grab my purse off the island and hustle to check the monitor. Brent is dressed in a suit, and my stomach dips. Forget the date. I want to drag him up here and make up for lost time. A suit? Hell, yes.

I snatch my winter jacket off the hook, and I’m out the apartment door before either of my roommates can tease me about how eager I am. When he said he had a night planned for us and to dress nice, I had no idea he’d be wearing a suit too. To most guys, dressing up is a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.

At the front entrance, I open the door, and Brent grins. The pure delight in his expression causes me to drop my purse and coat on the floor, and then I tackle him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

He chuckles against my lips, but he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back, to support my legs, and to press me against the cold glass window. When I let out a gasp of surprise, he spins me around to brace me against the mailboxes instead.

I’ve missed this all-consuming passion, as though we can’t get enough of each other. Part of me wonders if I used to fake or inflate my desire with other guys because I’ve never felt this desperate surge of longing for anyone. We’re real in a way I’ve never experienced with another man.

“If we keep going, we’re not going to make dinner,” Brent murmurs against my neck.

Our apartment complex is normally busy, and anyone could walk in or out of the door at any moment. I’m also starving since we had to wait to start our date until after his swim practice was over. Earlier, I was too nervous to eat.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he eases my feet to the ground.

“I have plans,” he says, “and you don’t get to know them.”

“You’re going to wine and dine—”

“And sixty-nine,” he finishes with a smirk.

The urge to blurt out my feelings is so strong I have to turn my back on him to grab my coat and purse from the floor.

“If you could just bend a little lower,” Brent says from behind me.

I glance at him over my shoulder, and I do an exaggerated bend. “Like this?” I ask in a mock breathy voice.

“Such a tease.” Brent runs his hand along my ass and down my leg.

“Don’t worry,” I say, and I turn in his arms. “You’d have to really fuck up not to get laid tonight.”

“Do not underestimate my ability to fuck up a sure thing.”

“Whatever you’ve got planned will be fun.” I slap his chest and grab his hand.

“Should I be worried that I’m not having to heavily medicate you for this date? This is a real date.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m actually kind of surprised you didn’t bring me a giant bouquet of I’m-a-dick roses to make up for the hellish couple of weeks I’ve had.”

“I’m-a-dick roses?” His lips twitch as he holds open the door for me to step through.

“It’s a thing that I have decided will be our thing.” He holds my elbow so I don’t fall on the way to his car.