Page 140 of Faking the Goal

That fucking smirk is still plastered across his lips.

"All right, then."

I reach blindly toward the shelf beside me, grab the first manga my hand lands on, and slip out from between him and the bookshelf before my face gets any hotter.

I don't even bother checking what I grabbed as I head back toward one of the reading pods.

I just need to get away from whatever the hell that was before my stupid heart starts getting the wrong idea about a relationship that hasn't even started yet.

And is completely fucking fake.

CHAPTER 20

KENTARO

So... Taylor and I are dating.

Well, fake dating.

And tonight is our first official appearance as a couple.

One of the fraternities is throwing an early Christmas party, and according to Taylor, practically everyone she normally hangs out with will be there. All we have to do is show up together and spend the night acting like we're the most disgustingly in love couple on campus until enough people see us that the news spreads on its own.

How the fuck I'm supposed to pull that off, I don't know. Taylor seems to have enough confidence for both of us, so I'm perfectly willing to let her lead.

"Ready?" she asks.

I turn toward her, and whatever answer I had disappears somewhere between my brain and my mouth.

She's wearing a deep emerald-green dress that stops high on her thighs, the silky fabric draping loosely over her chest before sweeping up around her neck in a halter. It's sexy enough from the front, but when she shifts to grab her purse, I get a glimpse of the back and nearly swallow my fucking tongue.

The dress dips dangerously low behind her, leaving smooth, bare skin exposed from her shoulders almost all the way to her waist, with delicate gold chains draped in loose curves across her back. Her red hair is swept mostly over one shoulder tonight, the deep green making the copper strands look like they're on fucking fire beneath the light.

My eyes drag down her slowly before climbing right back up, and for once, I don't even bother lying to myself about why.

I've always thought she was hot. Painfully, inconveniently, maddeningly hot. I just spent the better part of two months burying that fact beneath irritation because wanting someone like Taylor made absolutely no sense to me. Now that I've finally admitted the truth, it's like somebody ripped the fucking blindfold off and turned every dial in my body all the way up.

She's not just hot tonight. She's fucking lethal.

And I'm supposed to spend the next several hours touching her while acting like being this close to her doesn't affect me.

Yeah. My self-control is going to be put through fucking hell tonight.

Apparently, I'm staring long enough for her to notice because Taylor glances down at herself, and the confidence she had a second ago suddenly wavers.

"Is this too much?"

My brows pull together. "What?"

"The dress." She runs her palms down the sides, and I immediately hate the self-consciousness creeping into her expression. "Is it too revealing? I tried to find something that wasn't as..." She gestures vaguely at herself. "These are basically the least revealing party clothes in my closet, so I thought—"

"No." I say hastily.

She looks up when I step closer, and I settle my hands around her waist.

"You look..." I stop because hot doesn't come remotely close, and every other word suddenly feels too fucking small. "You look like a goddess."

Her lips part slightly, and a flush starts creeping into her cheeks.