He leaned forward and met my gaze unabashed. “If I’m going to be dating you this week—"
“Fake dating,” I broke in.
He went on, unfazed, “I can’t work under those kinds of restraints.”
I shook my head, irritated that he always had to find a way to get under my skin. This wasn’t even a hard rule. This was anobviousrule.
“No. Any good book or movie worth its salt will tell you that fake dating always has rules. It’s the only way it can work. We touchonlyin public, and it’s super platonic.”
“So…what book have you read where fake dating worked as planned? Should I take a quick peek into your Kindle?” He cocked his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips, his brown eyes diving into mine.
I shifted uncomfortably. “They don’t work because people stop following the rules, and things get confusing. Weneedrules.”
“What do you mean by confusing?” he asked, his wide eyes the picture of innocence. The rate of my heartbeat kicked up a notch.
Maybe it was a good thing he moved to the island in the kitchen. If he was standing by me, I would have kicked him in the shins by now. “You know what I mean.”
“And what does ‘unnecessary’ mean?” He gave quotation marks to the word. “When do you deem touching necessary?” He leaned back on the island as if he had all the time in the world.
I clenched my fists, eyeing him warily. “If we’re around my family, then…you can…touch my shoulder or something.”
“The shoulder, huh? Wow.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Both of them?”
“Shut up.”
He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nope. If we’re dating this week—”
“Fake dating.”
“Then I’m gonna act normal.”
“What’s normal for you? Making out on the top of a class-five rapid?”
“I’d never make out during a class five, Celery Stick. You need two hands to do both of those things.” He regarded me for a long moment. “I’m going to treat you just like any other girl I’d be dating. If I’m having fun with you and getting the vibe you’re into it, I’ll make a move.”
“Well, that’s just fine then. I don’t plan on giving off that vibe.” My smile was crisp, and I stood up tall, away from the wall, about to ask him where the bathroom was, before he continued as though I hadn’t said a word.
“I’ll start with holding your hand.”
A scoff escaped my lips as I brushed nonchalantly at a piece of lint on my sweater.
“And then when that pretty smile of yours starts to feel real, I might pull you in for a hug.”
I stilled. My eyes flicked over to him.
“And if your big eyes keep dropping me hints,beggingfor more, then maybe I’ll hug you again.”
To my utter horror, the mood between us began to shift. I wanted to look away, but my eyes were locked onto his, trying to decide what he was about. He was just messing with me. Hehadto be. But the words were infiltrating my mind and wreaking havoc on my central nervous system.
His eyes never left mine. “After the second hug, you’d be more used to the close proximity—and you’d like it, by the way. I’d probably kiss your cheek next.”
I drew in a soft breath, about to tell him to stop when he spoke again.
“And then, I’d move up and down your jawline right about here.” He reached up and drew a long finger across the base of his jaw. Goosebumps scattered all around my skin. My eyes betrayed me and followed his every movement from the bottom of his ear to the point of his chin.
“Kissing every little freckle.”
The sound of the grandfather clock struck loudly, thundering into the room. I jumped, clutching my chest at the sound, before I looked back at Miles. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced away. When he turned back to me, a smile was on his lips. He had been playing me. That was all. Which was a relief. A RELIEF.Dang you, Miles Taylor.