“It had to be done. They were a disaster.”
“They were fine.”
“They had soup cans mixed with cereal boxes,” I reply.
“Fine-ish,” he concedes, the smile widening.
This is us. It’s so normal, I almost forget why I came until the words slip out.
“Chase, this fake dating thing. You’re still serious about it?” I ask, though I already know the answer. I just want to give him the chance to back out. To chalk the plan up to desperation, lunch-time hunger, and Harper putting ideas in our heads.
He polishes off the last bite of his pastry before he replies. “The more I think about it, the more certain I am this is the perfect solution for both of us.”
“Me too,” I reply, thinking of Ryan’s message this morning.
His eyes narrow. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”
“Not a but. An and.”
“And you know you’re hyper after a run?”
“I do. It’s the?—”
“Endorphins,” he cuts in smoothly. “You’ve told me a million times before.”
“Exactly.” I sip my coffee, savoring the warmth and the hit of caffeine. “And I think we should put some ground rules in place. We’ve been best friends too long to risk messing that up, right?”
“Right,” he says easily, though his eyes sharpen. “What kind of rules are you thinking?”
“I haven’t got that far,” I admit, thinking for a moment, remembering Liv’s reservations. “OK, so what do we do if we can’t fully sell everyone on us at the Hearts of Denver awards? Do we carry on? And if so, for how long?”
He tilts his head, considering. “Let’s say worst-case scenario, we don’t sell it—which I don’t buy for a second because we can absolutely sell this in one night. But, if we do need to keep it going, how about this? We call it quits no matter what by the Denver Fall Fair. That’s five weeks away. We go all out for those five weeks then let things fizzle out. We go back to being friends and by the time the gossip sites and fans have cottoned on that we’re no longer dating, the world will have moved on.”
I picture it: fake dating Chase for the next month. Hanging out like we already do, only with his hand in mine when people are looking. Smiling for a few photos. Maybe a kiss or two when the cameras are on us. It hardly sounds much different from what we already have, apart from the PDA.
“Agreed,” I reply, wondering for a moment why Liv thought we even needed rules. This is going to be easy. “Are we going to tell our families it’s fake?” I ask then. “I’d feel weird keeping it secret.”
“One hundred percent,” Chase replies without hesitation. “We let our families in on it. And Liv and Mia and Flic too. The only people we’re trying to convince are the fans and Ryan anyway.”
“Good.” Relief threads through me. “No way I want to get caught lying to Mama after that time we were eleven and she caught us hiding clothes under our pillows the night we planned to go on a midnight walk.”
Chase chuckles. “As if she wouldn’t see straight through this anyway. She’s got superpowers.” His smile widens with warmth and love at the mention of the woman who raised him.
There’s a pause as we both sip our coffees. Then Chase raises his brows in question. “How much PDA are you actually OK with?”
My stomach does a strange little flip at the question, like I’ve only just realized how weird this is going to be. “Define PDA.”
“Well for starters, to pull this off we probably need to give the press a red-carpet kiss at the awards,” he says, tone easy, but eyes watching me.
“We can put on a show,” I reply, repeating Liv’s words from earlier.
“And handholding when people are watching. Sitting close. Looking cozy.”
“Fine,” I reply.
Then his lips twitch into a smile. “You might have to touch my ass a few times. Want to practice now?”
The laugh bubbles out of me. “That is officially off the table. And kissing, holding hands, all of that, is strictly only in public.”