For Real (Rules of Love, Book One) (13 page)

And I’m dead. He puts his tongue back in his mouth and smiles at me.

“You had some cheese on your face,” he says in a quiet voice that stirs something deep inside me and makes tingles break out all over my skin.

My mouth goes dry and I try to swallow, but it seems that my body is unable to move at the moment. If someone busted into the apartment with a gun, I doubt I would move from my present position.

Jett finally lets go of my chin, and my skin burns with the memory of his touch. He moves back and grabs some more chips from the plate.

I’m still trying to unstick my body from being stuck. Finally my lungs expand and I take a shaky breath.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, and stumble for the bathroom. I just . . . need some air.

I lock the door and take a deep breath. Jett must have cleaned recently, because it smells lemony fresh. There’s a tiny window next to the shower, so I push it open. Or at least I try to. It only opens about an inch and then gets stuck. Oh well. I lean down and rest my face on the windowsill, inhaling some of the sharp outdoor air. Even though it’s spring, the air still has a winter bite to it at night, and it’s just what I need to clear my head. After several deep breaths, I think I have myself back together.

Jett licked my face. I never thought someone licking my face would be anything but nasty, but Jett turned everything sexy. Like he was a wizard and could transform anything and sexify it. Wizard of Sexy. With his magic . . . wand.

Thinking about Jett’s magic wand causes me to start giggling and I have to turn the water on in the sink just so he won’t hear me.

I think I’m losing it.

I try to pull myself together. Before I leave the bathroom, I double check my face to make sure there isn’t any more cheese on it. I’m good, but I look like I’m on crack. My eyes are all wide and crazy and my face is flushed. My hair is also looking really special. I comb my fingers through it and grab the hair elastic that I always have around my wrist and pull my hair back into a low ponytail. There’s not much I can do about the crazy eyes and the flushed face. Hopefully Jett thinks they’re cute.

When I get back out into the kitchen, the nachos are almost all gone. Jett must have inhaled them. Where does it all go? He must have the metabolism of a supermodel. Damn him.

“I saved you some,” he says, holding out the pan where there are three small, sad chips lying there with barely any toppings. But his face is so sweet, and it’s a real struggle to make my face angry and glare at him.

“New Rule: No eating of all the nachos while your Fake Girlfriend is in the bathroom.”

“You’re putting addendums on the Rules now?” I almost giggled at the word ‘addendum’. For some reason it always made my mind go to the gutter.

“The unwritten Rule of the Rules is that the Fake Girlfriend can add things on when she wants.” I shove the last of the chips in my mouth.

Jett sputters, but I grin with my mouth full, chew and then swallow.

“The other unwritten Rule of the Rules is that the Fake Girlfriend is always right,” I add. It’s Jett’s turn to glare, but he can’t keep it up for long and ends up shaking his head instead.

“Okay, Fake Girlfriend. I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed, if you don’t mind. I’ve got my bed all set up for you, so if you want to go in and get comfortable, you can.” What? I made him sleep on the floor, and I am fully fine with doing the same. Anything but his couch.

I start trying to protest, but Jett puts one finger on my lips and that shuts me up real quick.

“Unwritten Rule Three is that the Fake Boyfriend will never make the Fake Girlfriend sleep on the floor when she’s at his house, and there will be no arguing from the Fake Girlfriend about it. She will nod and agree and let him go take a shower.” The whole time he’s talking, he keeps his hand on my mouth, and my lips are all burny and tingly. His skin is so nice. Not too soft, but not all calloused and nasty like so many other guys. I swear, if a guy touched me and his hands were dirty, and his nails all chewed and broken down to stubs, and they had dead skin bits hanging off them, I’d probably run away screaming. Jett has nice hands. In addition to all his other bits.

“Okay,” I say against his finger and he uses his finger to make my head nod up and down.

“Good enough.” He leaves me in the kitchen and a few seconds later the shower turns on. That boy. I swear.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting on Jett’s bed in my pajamas and freaking out. I know he’s taking one for Team Fake Relationship by sleeping on the grungy couch, but I still feel shitty about it. Maybe this is to make up for taking all the nachos. Guess there’s a give and take even in Fake Dating.

I’m twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Jett to come back from the shower and then the door opens. I freeze, not sure if I should dive under the couch, or scream, or run away.

I do none of the above.

“You again,” Javier says. He looks tired, but actually sober. Not that I know him enough to know the difference, but it’s pretty easy to see that he’s not falling down drunk like last time.

“Me again,” I say as Jett walks out of the bathroom, a tank top covering his chest, and a towel around his waist.

“If you want—” he starts, but doesn’t finish when he sees Javier.

“What are you doing here?” Jett looks like he’s just walked into the room and found a dead body on the floor. I’m not quite as horrified as he is, but it’s definitely not the ideal situation. Hopefully he’s just going to be in and out.

“Apparently, I live here. Or at least that’s what I’ve been led to believe. Wait, is this some sort of conspiracy? Are you a robot? Am I a robot? IS THIS EVEN REAL?” Javier’s eyes go wide and he looks from me to Jett and back, as if we’re going to attack him.

Jett is first to recover. He picks up a pillow from the couch and flings it at Javier who ducks to get away from it.

“Asshole,” Jett says.

“What? You can never be too careful. I, for one, will welcome our robot overlords and serve them with all of my heart and soul.”

Is this Javier sober? Because he kind of seems drunk.

“Once again, I’m sorry. There is no excuse for him,” Jett says, raking his wet hair back out of his face. It keeps flopping attractively in his eyes. If Javier weren’t here, I would have gotten up and run my hands through it. Or maybe not. I might not be daring enough to do that. But in my mind, I’m that daring.

“Just came to change my clothes. Relax. It doesn’t look like I was interrupting anything anyway. Dude, why are you wearing a shirt? It’s weird.”

It is a little weird. Jet’s shirt is wet from his skin and almost see-through. Totally pointless. Plus, I really wanna see him shirtless. RIGHT NOW.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business and get the hell out?” Ooohh, Jett is mad. I can’t tell if it’s fake, but it looks pretty real. Javier just shakes his head and goes to his room, bangs around for a minute and then comes back out, in a pair of new pants and a new shirt.

“Madam, Sir. I hope you have a splendid and sex-filled evening. I’m off to have one myself. May all your condoms be resilient and hole-free. Farewell!” He salutes us and then leaves.

“Is that Javier sober?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“Wow.”

Jett sighs.

“I know.”

Jett and I have another little fight when it comes time to go to bed. I just feel so bad about making him sleep on his couch.

“It’s more comfortable than the floor. I don’t have an extra mattress. Please stop making a big deal out of this. I’m not trying to be chivalrous.”

We both sit on the bed, him with his tank top and shorts, me in my dorky pajamas.

“We could share,” I say without looking at him. My mouth is a little dry as I suggest it, but it’s the only solution I can think of that will make me feel okay.

“There might be incidental contact if we do that,” he says, his voice just as soft.

“That’s . . . fine. I’m okay with it. Plus, if Javier comes back, there won’t be any more explaining to do.”

“I might knock you out again,” he says, pretending to punch me again in slow motion, but stopping just short of hitting my face. I make myself laugh.

“I’ll be careful.” I finally look up into his eyes. They almost swirl like a kaleidoscope. I could sit and watch the turning colors for hours. But he would have to blink eventually.

I stand up and Jett turns down the covers.

“Do you want the inside or the outside?”

“Outside.” So if I have to pee in the middle of the night I can do so without waking him. Or if I decide to run away, it’ll be easier and stealthier.

He gets in and I quickly realize that he takes up a lot of room in the small bed. We’re going to get pretty intimate. Well, we might as well if we’re going to play off this Fake Dating.

I get in with my back to his front and pull the covers over. Jett is as far away from me as he can get; practically plastered up against the wall. I scoot forward, until I’m almost falling off the edge.

“You can touch me. I’m not going to break,” I say and he moves a bit closer. I can feel the heat coming off his skin as it warms the air under the blankets.

I shift myself until I’m comfortable and close my eyes, inhaling the clean scent of his pillow. He sighs behind me and moves a tiny bit closer, and I can feel his breath stirring my hair. And then his arm encircles me, coming over the blanket. My eyes fly open, not that he can see, and my stomach muscles clench. The arm moves just a little more until it’s completely around me.

Jett is holding me. In his bed.

“Goodnight, princess,” he says in my ear.

“Goodnight,” I somehow say, and close my eyes. It’s going to be a while until I fall asleep.

At least, I thought it was going to be hard to fall asleep. But Jett’s breathing behind me, and his warm arm around me make me feel safe and not alone. It’s nice and cozy, and my body likes it. All of me likes it.

In fact, I like it so much that the next time my eyes open, I’m not looking at Jett’s wall of art. I’m looking at Jett. His chest, specifically.

His arm is still around me, and somehow during the night I’d pulled my hands under my chin, one grabbing onto his shirt. My legs are so warm that I’m almost hot. My pajama pants have ridden up, so we’re skin to skin from my knees down. His legs are hairy, but guys’ legs are supposed to be. If they were hairless, I’d be worried. I turn my head ever so slowly and I can see part of the red dragon across his chest. His heart beats against my hand and his chest expands as he breathes. It’s fascinating. I feel like a disgusting love song should be playing in the background.

He makes a noise and shifts a bit, pulling me closer.

“Your hair smells good,” he says, his voice rumbling against my fingers.

“Good morning,” I say because that’s what you say in the morning, even though you’re in a situation you don’t know how you got yourself into.

“How did this happen?” I assume he means how we’re currently positioned.

“I have no idea.” I let go of his shirt and his arm loosens from around me so I can roll back a bit and look at his face. His eyes are a little puffy, and his hair is all over the place. He’s adorable and disheveled and I hope I look the same, even though I’m sure I don’t.