Sage’s lips are soft and taste like chocolate with a hint of vodka. And considering this is supposed to be a fake kiss for show, it’s strange to me that that’s the first thing I notice. But as she melts against me, leaning her weight into my arms, I find myself wanting to deepen the kiss from more than a peck on the lips.
The eyes of those around us burn against my back, watching as I hold her, my mouth pressed to hers. If only they knew my heart was beating wildly under my suit and my dick was struggling to control itself. Making out and popping boners at elegant events is definitely frowned upon, but I don’t care.
Having to stand idly by while my father had her in his grasp made me irritable and out of my mind. I didn’t know what they were talking about or what he was promising her. The feeling of being out of the loop, and having her out of my reach, had my blood boiling like a fever.
That’s why I’m feeling so desperate and frantic now.
After a moment, I gently pull away from the kiss and my eyes meet hers. Warm sky-blue orbs gaze up at me and I lose my sense of time and space. I forget I’m surrounded by my parents’ friends. I forget about the plan. For just a second, I want to kiss her again.
So I do.
With my hands on either side of her face, I drag her mouth back up to mine and press my tongue against the seam of her lips. I think, for a second, she’s going to fight me. Instead, she opens gracefully, letting me lick my way into her mouth. Our tongues brush together in soft friction as she lets out a gentle hum.
On my back, her fingers are gripping tightly against my jacket, pulling me closer. And somewhere in my mind, I keep reminding myself that this is for show. We’re doing this for a reason that has nothing to do with my heart or my dick.
However, my dick doesn’t seem to get that message. She brushes against it, and a hot buzz of arousal shoots through my body. I’m painfully aware of just how hard I am and how much she keeps shifting against me, which has me wanting to fuck her right here on the dance floor.
I’d love to see the look on my father’s face then.
There’s a bright flash distracting both of us from the kiss. Sage and I flinch at the same time as we pull apart and stare into the eyes of a young man holding a large camera with a flash bulb attached to the top. He gives us an awkward grin.
“Can I get your names for the publication?”
My brow furrows and he notices, shrinking into himself.
“Sage Astor,” she says proudly, and I have to relax my clenched jaw.
“Adam Goode,” I add.
“I know who you are,” he replies with an awkward chuckle.
This is what we wanted, right? Publicity. Proof. Exposure. So why does it still feel so strange? He’s going to post that picture somewhere and then the world will know. I have a pink-haired, pierced, and tattoo-covered girlfriend. It feels like the one thing I’ve been taught to avoid since childhood and I didn’t even realize it. All the while, my mother was trying to set me up with quote, unquote “good Christian girls,” but what she was really accomplishing was teaching me to never look twice at a girl like Sage.
And now I’m intentionally breaking that rule.
Sage and I stand in awkward silence for a moment before I realize I’m still holding her affectionately. My hands drop away as she takes a step back.
“Can we go now?” she whispers, turning her gaze away from mine. Judging by the frigid chill in her voice, the unexpected photographer killed her buzz.
“Yes,” I reply flatly.
My hand moves to her lower back as I guide her to our table to say our goodbyes. She’s tense under my touch. As we reach my family, I make the announcement that we’re leaving, and I notice the smug look of victory on my father’s face. I hate the idea that he thinks he’s won somehow.
I want to yank him up by his collar and tell him that this is only the beginning. I’d like to spit in his face and remind him what a royal piece of shit he is, but I can’t do that here.
Instead, I kiss my mother on the cheek and wave goodbye to my brothers as I escort my date to the exit.
“I’m starving,” she mumbles in the passenger seat. As I pull the car out onto the main road, I glance over at her and feel my stomach growling like she summoned it.
“Didn’t you eat the chicken?” I ask.
She shrugs. “The chicken was fine, but that rice tasted like rotten dirt.” She twists her face up in disgust and I bite back a laugh.
“That was truffle risotto,” I reply.
“I thought truffles were chocolate.”
“Truffle is a dessert, but truffles are an exotic mushroom that, yes, taste a little like rotten dirt.”
“Rich people are weird,” she replies, scrolling through her phone. With another laugh, I glance sideways at her, noticing that she’s typing the charity name into the search bar.
“Looking for that picture already? It’s a little early.”
“I know. I just want to see if we’re in any pics yet.”
She’s still scrolling as I come up to the intersection leading to her apartment. There aren’t any good restaurants in this part of town. It’s mostly businesses and clubs. So I make a right instead.
“You like burgers?” My voice is low, almost like I don’t want her to hear me.
“Huh?” she asks, looking up.
“I know a good burger joint over here.”
At the mere thought of greasy ground beef covered in cheese, my stomach starts to growl louder this time, and Sage giggles next to me.
“You’re taking me out for burgers?” she asks as if it’s so hard to believe.
“I am going to grab some food. You mentioned you were hungry. Would you like to go with me or not?” My voice is a little too loud as I snap at her, but she only reacts with a tight-lipped smile and humor in her eyes.
“Yes, please.”
With an audible huff, I pull into the run-down parking lot of the place Caleb introduced me to a few years ago. It’s clearly popular because the inside is packed to the brim with people. After finding a place to park, I hop out and make my way toward Sage’s side to open her door, but she’s already climbing out before I get there.
We walk together to the window, where we place our order for two cheeseburgers, an order of onion rings, and two chocolate shakes. Sage is bouncing eagerly on her toes as we wait in silence for the food to come out. And when they call our number, she lets out a growly hum, inhaling the scent of fried onions wafting from the paper bag.
Instead of trying to fight for a table inside, we walk out to the car and place our food on the trunk.
“Go ahead,” I say, patting the surface. “Have a seat.”
With an onion ring perched between her lips, she tries to hop up but fails on account of her small size and awkward heels. Grinning to myself, I place my hands under her arms and hoist her up until she’s sitting on the back with her legs dangling over.
“Thanks,” she mumbles with a smirk.
I reply with a silent nod. Then we dig into our late-night, greasy meal together. The sounds she makes as she devours her cheeseburger have my dick twitching, so I turn my body away from hers, afraid of a repeat of what happened tonight on the dance floor.
“Oh! Look!” she shrieks, staring down at her phone with wide eyes.
Moving to stand next to her, I glance at the screen and notice it’s her and me standing together near the bar. She’s tucked perfectly under my arm as we talk to my brother and his wife.
“Golden boy, Adam Goode, seems to have found himself an interesting girlfriend for once!”
“It says that?” I ask, leaning closer, and sure enough, it’s an Instagram post from someone who looks like they screenshot the photo from another source. “What do the comments say?”
Sage drops her phone in her lap and glares at me. “Adam, we never read the comments.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where the trolls are,” she replies.
“There’re already twenty comments. I want to see what they say.”
“Have at it,” she says, tossing me her phone.
I don’t know what I’m even looking for as I hit the button that reveals everyone’s comments. I think I want proof that this fake dating scheme is as controversial as we want it to be. It’s the uproar and shock that I need to see.
What I get in the comments chills my blood instead.
He could do better.
How much did he rent her for?
What on earth is he doing??
Why, Adam. Whyyyyyyyy?
My face falls and I fight the urge to respond to each one of these assholes. What on earth would I even fucking say?
I harden my features and close out the app, handing the phone back to Sage. She’s holding her burger in one hand, a dot of ketchup on the side of her cheek. With a flex of my hand, I shove it in my pocket to keep from wiping the ketchup away.
She continues scrolling as she eats. When I notice the way her shoulders tense and goose bumps cover her arms, I shrug out of my jacket and wrap it around her small frame.
“Thanks,” she mumbles, glancing up at me with uncertainty in her tone.
“So, are there any more posts about us?” I ask casually as I fish my burger out of the bag. She reads a bit as she scrolls. It seems there are a lot of posts about us together, making some pretty generous waves in the Goode church and Austin community. It’s the validation I think I needed.
But am I ready to take it to the next step? Because being seen together and being seen fucking on camera are two very different things.
There’s a buzzing vibration in my pocket, so I shift my burger to the opposite hand and pull out my phone. It’s a text from Caleb, and the message makes my stomach drop to my fucking balls.
I like your girlfriend.
With a twinge of guilt, I struggle with how to respond. What would I say if she was my real girlfriend? Thank you? Plus, with Caleb, I can’t exactly tell if he’s being serious or not. So I don’t say anything at all, and a moment later, he texts again.
Dad seems pissed.
And there it is. That’s why Caleb likes my new girlfriend, because she ruffles Dad’s feathers, and while Caleb has never had the balls to do it himself, he loves anything that pisses our father off. If only he knew that was my plan all along. If only I could tell him that Dad is pissed because my new date is a threat to his name and reputation. But I can’t. I promised to follow the rules, which means everyone has to believe it’s true.
Good. I respond without explanation.
“You were right,” Sage says, stealing my attention. “This place is the best.”
I glance up from my phone to see her sitting on my car, in my jacket, with ketchup on her face, looking infuriatingly cute and sexy at the same time.
Letting out a tense sigh, I pick up a napkin from the trunk and lean in, wiping the mess from her cheek. “You’re a mess,” I mumble.
She smiles in return, dimples piercing her cheeks. I narrow my eyes at her in a grimace as she beams.
I fucking hate it when she does that.
