The Fine Art of Pretending (12 page)

I look at my friend, not surprised to find her watching me with concern. I nod, letting her know I’m okay, and the dare queen surprises me by answering, “Truth.”

“Good. Confession time.” I hear the smile in Brandon’s voice, and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming. “How do you feel about my man, Carlos? And no copping out with that ‘I like him like a friend’ bullshit either.”

Even from across the blanket, I hear her breath release in a rush. Her body locks up, only her eyes moving as they slide from Brandon to Carlos and then to me, pleading for my help.

Hey, this was
your
guys’ suggestion
, I want to say, but instead I give her an encouraging smile.

“N-no,” she stammers. She lifts her chin and glares over at him. “I don’t like Carlos. He actually bugs the crap out of me.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to control her
voice
as well as her face. Brandon and Justin chuckle, and I try my best to hide my smile behind my hand.
I so knew it!

“Sweetheart, if you’re gonna lie, at least try to be convincing,” Lauren says, her voice dripping with false sincerity.

Carlos leans on one arm to whisper in Gabi’s ear. I don’t know what he says, but
whatever
it is, it magically stops her from climbing over the blanket and ripping Lauren’s bleached-blonde tresses from her head. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and then she sinks against him and actually smiles.

Well, what do you know? Maybe this game is good for something after all.

Gabi clears her throat. “All right, my turn.” Her stare zeroes in on me as she says, “Truth or dare?”

Aw, crap. Is it possible to say neither? Gabi just got burned on truth, and I’ve been
far
from Miss Truthful lately. What would I say if she asks about Brandon? But then, a dare almost had me making out with Lauren a few minutes ago. I waffle back and forth, gnawing on my lip like a freaking rabbit, and then spit out, “Dare?”

Gabi sits up tall with eager eyes, and I immediately start wishing for a do-over.

“Since this trip started, I’ve seen the two of you,” she says, motioning between me and Brandon, “give each other little kisses on the cheek and that chaste peck on the lips last night, but I’ve yet to see you go at it. I’ve spent
years
watching the two of you pretend you weren’t hot for each other. So go for it already.” Wiggling her shoulders, she says, “Aly, I dare you to make out with Brandon for a full minute.”

Gabi smiles as if she’s given me a present. Like this is an easy dare.

Ha!

Truth, truth, truth! I pick truth!

I turn to Brandon in alarm. We didn’t plan for this. Rules from before still apply; he can back out, but how would that look to our friends? To
Justin?
We hold a conversation with our eyes, Brandon studying me under scrunched eyebrows, and then his teeth sink into his lower lip. Without thinking, my eyes follow the movement.

Has it always been that full?

I look at his upper lip and find he has a matching set. Model lips, that’s what they are. No marks, no dry skin marring them. They look soft and wet and yummy, and I lick mine on impulse.

“Dude, what’re you waiting for?” Carlos calls. “Plant one on her.”

I lift my eyes and am shocked to see Brandon is staring at
my
mouth. He swallows audibly and flicks his gaze to mine. The emotions darkening the soft green color are too confusing to name.

Does he want to back out?

An exhale of breath leaves Brandon’s lips, almost like a laugh, and he scoots closer to me on the blanket. I twist my legs under myself, sitting tall as I face him. He cups my chin and tilts it toward him, drowning me in the now dark-green depths of his eyes, the cologne I gave him for his birthday filling my head. It’s woodsy and yummy and I always loved how it smelled on the store testers, but on Brandon, it’s even sexier. My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale again, this time slowly. Goose bumps prickle my arms, and my head gets fuzzy.

Brandon slides his hand down the column of my neck and brings the other up, threading his fingers through the hair at my nape. His breath fans across my cheek, and everything south of my bellybutton squeezes tight.

When his mouth first meets mine, it’s hesitant, questioning. But as I move my lips with his, he quickly grows bolder, coaxing them apart.

Desire, pure and raw, electrifies my veins as his tongue sweeps my mouth. A whimpering sound springs from my chest, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Needing more. My teeth graze his full bottom lip, and I pull it, sucking on it gently.

He moans and knots his fingers in my hair, and a thrill dances down my back.

Brandon is an amazing kisser, just as I knew he would be. I have no control over my body’s reactions. I lose myself in his lips, his tongue, and his strong arms, forgetting time and space and even my surroundings—until Gabi’s snicker brings reality crashing around us, reminding me we have an audience.

And that I’m kissing Brandon.

We break apart, out of breath, and stare into each other’s eyes.

That was unexpected
.

I search Brandon’s face, wondering if he felt anything even close to what I did.

And still do.

His soulful eyes search back. The adorable dimple in his cheek pops, and I lick my lips, savoring the lingering taste of spearmint. I just kissed Brandon. And I liked it. A lot.

My stomach drops, my head spins, and my pulse races. Shaking my head, I turn to the group, trying to focus back on the game. But thoughts of the scorching kiss consume me, leaving me dazed and weak-limbed.

I inhale a shaky breath and attempt a smile. “Carlos, truth or dare?”

BRANDON
BRANDON’S CABIN, 4:24 a.m
.

The
second hand on the large fish clock makes its sixtieth trip around the dial, and I turn over to look at Justin’s empty bunk. He’s off with Lauren somewhere, as he’s been every other night. Drew is knocked out. Carlos is snoring.

And I’m stuck awake, watching a damn clock and thinking about Aly.

Tonight did not go as planned. Not that I
had
any plans, but ending the night making out with my best friend wasn’t exactly on my to-do list. Now that I did, I can’t shake the memory of Aly’s face when we stopped.

There was no way to get out of that dare without coming clean about our non-hookup, so I’d planned to give her a simple kiss. Just enough to shut everyone up, no tongue or groping involved. But I hadn’t counted on her being so responsive. Or my body taking over the way it did.

Kissing Aly was fucking hot.

The only thing keeping me from running to her cabin now and picking up where we left off is figuring out what I’d say once I got there. Knowing Aly, she’d send me back anyway, telling me we should just pretend it didn’t happen. But can we do that?

Do we even want to?

That girl can kiss. The whole senior class already believes we’re hooking up; would it be so bad if we did it for real?

I punch my pillow and throw myself back onto the bed.

No, I can’t even think about suggesting that. Aly deserves better. Whether she’ll admit it or not, she’s a
Commitment
all the way, and hooking up for real will only hurt her.

And our friendship.

Groaning, I shove the pillow over my head.

One thing’s for sure. I’m gonna have to amp up my game plan. Either I need to get Aly to realize she’s not a
Casual
or find her a target other than Justin. Because if things stay the way they are for much longer, we’re going to ruin our friendship forever.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 13TH

7 weeks and 1 day until Homecoming

ALY
ALY’S ROOM, 4:30 p.m
.

Home,
sweet, dirty home
. I kick a mound of clothes out of the way and trudge across my bedroom floor, heaving my suitcases onto the unmade bed. I brought entirely too much crap on the camping trip. Pre-makeover, I would have had a bunch of tees, a couple pairs of shorts, and my worn-out one-piece. It would’ve all fit into one duffle bag. Instead, I got an extra cardio session in by lugging makeup, four pairs of shoes, three different bikinis, and enough wardrobe options to keep a Beverly Hills socialite happy.

Beauty truly is pain
.

I glance at the dresser spewing clothes and consider turning on my laptop. Word of me and Brandon getting together has to have spread to the rest of the school by now. I take a step and then hesitate, imagining the “what is he doing with
her
” comments surely cluttering Facebook. I’m
so
not ready for that. Left with no other choice, I smile and flop onto my soft bed, close my eyes, and give in to what I really want to do anyway.

Relive last night.

Delicious tingles explode wherever Brandon touched. My lips burn, and my head gets delightfully fuzzy. I want to lose myself in the sensations, but I hear my doorknob rattle and force my heavy eyelids open.

Kaitie’s strawberry-blonde ponytail bounces as she runs through the door and straight to my dresser. Amused, I prop my chin on my hand. She begins rifling through the drawers, tossing even more clothes onto the floor, and I scrunch my nose in wonder. But when my favorite baby-blue pajama set lands in a pile of dirty clothes, I decide it’s time to intervene.