Fake It 'Til You Break It(60)

I’m slowly starting to learn who he really is, and Nico Sykes is beyond what I knew him to be.

A few weeks ago, he was nothing but the guy to the left who loved to stare, glare, and then glanced away. The seemingly too cool for school guy who disappeared whenever I was near. Or at least, that’s how it felt.

Now, though, I know better than to assume who’s behind the mask he gives so many of us.

Nico is witty and daring. He’s athletic and determined, and the most surprising to me, as judgmental as it might make me seem, compassionate.

He’s supposed to be a stranger to me, yet he showed up as if he knew I hated the feeling I was left with every time my mother walks out the door, leaving me behind like I’m no longer important enough for her to care for.

Every day I discover something new about the guy, none of which I don’t like. That’s the scariest part.

Yes, he’s moody, but I can handle it, and honestly, I think he enjoys when I challenge his snappy attitude. Sometimes he shuts down completely and without warning, but so far, he’s always come out of his funk. It’s sort of part of his appeal, not knowing what you’re going to get, but being okay with it either way.

He’s exciting and unpredictable and temporarily mine.

What the hell am I supposed to do with all this?

And how the hell did things shift so quickly?

Nico didn’t agree to the idea of more, he agreed to pretend.

This is a problem because I no longer want to fake date Nico.

I sort of want to keep him.

Would he ever be open to the idea of keeping me?

As if the universe couldn’t allow me to wonder a little longer, I exit the bathroom to find Alex standing right outside, waiting.

I stutter step, offering a tight smile, and go to walk on by, but he reaches out to stop me.

“Hey, running off so fast?” He chuckles.

I give an anxious smile. “Sorry.”

It shouldn’t feel wrong simply standing here talking to the guy, yet it does in every way.

I’m so screwed.

“What’s the rush?” He grins.

“I’ve been gone a few minutes too long.” I give a light laugh.

“I think your ninety-eight percent in the class can afford you a few extra for bathroom breaks.”

“Ninety-nine, but who’s counting,” I joke.

“Right.” He chuckles.

“I better go.” I edge away.

“Yeah, yeah. For sure.”

I give a small wave and head back, but he catches up to me before I round the corner.

“Demi, hang on a minute.”

I hesitate but then turn around. “What’s up?”

“I forgot to ask. I need a little help with the routine for homecoming.”

I straighten at the mention of my team. “Oh, right. You can ask—”

“You’re the main girl, right?” he cuts me off.

“I’m center, front line, basically, but we’re still a team.”

“You think you could help me out? After I get out of practice maybe?”

“Oh.” Shit.

Well, if this isn’t a clear ass sign I’ve officially switched teams.

“Sorry, but that’s not really a good idea,” I tell him, not missing the way his eyes tighten. “But hey, we haven’t started practicing with you guys yet. I’m sure you’ll be fine after this week.”

“Well, your coach, who is really young by the way.” He feels the need to add for some reason. “She mentioned we should practice now.”

“If you really want to, Alex, I’m sure Katy would be happy to help you,” I mention his partner.

“Yeah, but I don’t have her number.” He reaches out to grab my hand. “Help me out?”

I stare at him a minute and the gorgeous green of his eyes I used to daydream about only weeks ago. Suddenly they look more like seaweed than shiny emeralds.

I gently pull my hand from his.

His eyes harden the slightest bit.

“Sorry, I can’t, but I’ll text Katy and ask her to find you.”

I leave him standing in the hall with a staggered expression.

I walk around the corner, skidding to a stop when Nico is leaning there, his hands in his pockets, head tilted down, glare focused on the linoleum beneath his feet.

Slowly, and only with his eyes, he glances up, gauging me.

My stomach warms, and I feel the tension surrounding him, but the longer he stares, the more his features smooth. Still, he doesn’t give me much.

Sliding his shoulder against the wall, he moves closer until I’m only a foot’s space away. His hand slips into my hair, his focus now on my lips.

I keep my arms locked at my sides, my toes curling in my flats, fingers digging into my skirt as he leans in.

Waiting.

But he doesn’t kiss me.

As soon as the disappointment stirs in my gut, the warmth of his lips press down against the throbbing pulse of my neck, creating a deeper kind of heat, and my eyes close.

He has to feel it, right?

The way it kicked up the second his hands landed on me, only to grow faster and faster with every breath I took.

My control begins to break, and I’m about to yank him to me, when his mouth finally lands on mine.

I open for him and he shifts closer, his hand digging into my hair with a gentle tug.