Getting Played (Getting Some, #2)(47)

“Kiss?” The syllable comes out high pitched and strangled.

Dean grins. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re okay with that.”

It’s terrifying just how okay I am. In fact, I’d be good with practicing right now.

Instead, I clear my throat. “Why do we have to do these things?”

Dean explains the question he got in class from one of his students and how he answered.

“So, you want to like—protect my honor? How old-fashioned.” I laugh.

“Yeah, your’s and Jay’s honor. I have a reputation around town and mother insults are still a thing. ‘Your mom is dating Coach Walker’ is a lot weaker than ‘Coach Walker fucked your mother and knocked her up before she even knew his last name.’ That could sting.”

He makes a valid point.

Or maybe I’m just deluding myself. Letting myself be swayed by the argument that will lead to holding Dean’s hand, going out with him, kissing him wherever, whenever—because that’s what I really want to do. Because the more I get to know him, the more I want him, and all the reasons I told myself we shouldn’t get physically involved feel thinner by the hour.

Dean moves in closer and slides my hair back from my shoulder, toying with the feather earring hanging from my earlobe. And his voice shifts gears, losing some of that playfulness, dropping low and tantalizing.

“Of course, anytime you want to stop pretending we’re doing the deed and make it a reality, you just need to say the word, beautiful.”

My pulse quickens as his tone washes over me, his tempting words—talk about lethal. Dean Walker’s voice should be labeled a weapon of mass seduction.

But I don’t want my life choices blowing back on Jason—this would preemptively solve that. It would also satisfy my craving, give me a taste of what being in a relationship with Dean would feel like. It’s basically all the plus and none of the downside.

None of the risk.

Because it’s not real.

“Okay. I’m on board. What should we do first?”



~



For the next two weeks, Operation Fake Couple goes into effect. We go to the movies, grocery shopping, we look at cribs at the local furniture store, and adorable baby-sized football jerseys at the Lakeside spirit-wear pop-up store on the school lawn. We eat dinner at Dinky’s Diner, and on Sunday morning Jason, Dean and I grab warm bagels at The Bagel Shop, just like a real couple—a real family.

Dean’s a popular guy—everyone around town knows him—and he introduces me to everybody. As his girlfriend.

This is Lainey, my girlfriend.

Good to see you, have you met my girlfriend, Lainey? We’re expecting a baby in the spring.

Stop looking at my girlfriend’s ass, Schwartz—she’s taken.

Even though I know it’s not real, it gives me the warm and fuzzies inside every single time. It’s been a while since I’ve been anything close to anyone’s girlfriend. Since it felt like I belonged to someone. And Dean’s a fantastic fake boyfriend. He’s attentive and sweet when we’re out together, holding my hand and pulling out my chair.

The one thing he doesn’t do, besides a few quick pecks on the cheek, is kiss me. It’s the only thing Dean doesn’t deliver on, and I find myself waiting breathlessly for the moment he’ll press his lips against mine. Waiting and wanting it more than I can put into words.

The second week in December is the annual St. Bart’s Christmas Bazaar—which apparently is a very big deal around Lakeside. Everyone who’s anyone, and even those who aren’t, show up. It’s an indoor/outdoor event—held on Main Street and in the St. Bart’s school cafeteria—with tables of homemade crafts and cakes and goodies for sale.

There’s a Santa for lap-sitting and picture-taking in the corner, who Dean whispers is actually the high school guidance counselor, Jerry Dorfman. I haven’t met him yet, but Dean finds Jerry decked out in his Santa gear completely hilarious. He takes a picture on his phone for the yearbook.

There are garland and lights and real evergreen Christmas trees decorated in every corner of the cafeteria. There’s a little stage on one side of the room where Dean says the school’s choir will sing Christmas carols at the end of the night. The streetlamps outside are hung with wreaths and bows, and everywhere I look, people are laughing and chatting.

I knew Lakeside was a beautiful town . . . but this is different. It’s picturesque, stunning—something straight out of Norman Rockwell—as if neighborly warmth and holiday cheer suffuse the very air we’re breathing. Jason disappears into a group of high schoolers soon after we get there, and Dean holds my hand, leading me along the tables inside.

“You could set up a table here next year,” Dean suggests. “Your stuff would sell like crazy.”

“I did a whole video series last year about making homemade Christmas gifts. They were good gifts too, nothing chintzy. It might be fun to do something like that—a craft tutorial.”

We run into Garrett and Callie Daniels, with little Will bouncing between them. Callie and I compare bellies—she’s got a slight lead on me, but I’m catching up. Dean’s told me a lot about Garrett—how he’s like a brother to him, how growing up his house was a second home.

So it feels nice when Garrett smiles and says, “Good to finally meet you, Lainey. I’ve heard great things about you.”