25

WHAT DO YOU do when you sort of, kind of, kiss the person you're supposed to be fake dating?

Yeah. I have no idea either.

I don't even know what was running through my head when I did it. He just wouldn't stop talking and I was looking at him with my heart beating way too fast and then the next thing I know my mouth was on his.

I shiver at the memory, swallowing thickly. Ever since it's happened I cant seem to get it out of my head.

I've kissed a couple times before, but none made me feel like someone was lighting my skin on fire.

That's the thing about Chase Rhodes, I guess. He shines really bright, and I suppos it was only a matter of time before he lit me on fire like the fucking torch Lady Liberty holds.

I touch my fingers to my lips, reminiscing on how his lips felt on my own.

He's kissed me back. I'm sure of it. His arms were wrapped around my face and what turned into a hesitant peck quickly became a full on make out session in the middle of his room.

Its like someone has installed a replay button into my head because all I can do is press it, over and over again.

"Lila," I jump at the sound of Mr. Wilson's voice. "I'd like the test back by the end of class not the school day."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and grab my pencil.

He frowns, probably upset he cant yell at me further. "Thank you."

I release a breath, flipping a page in my packet and begin jotting down some sentences into it. I've never had a problem with memorizing things. And actually, it's one of the only things I'm good at.

But with the memory of a kiss terrorizing my brain it's a little hard to focus at the moment.

Sue me.

"Matthews," my head jerks up at the sound of a voice and I set my pencil down. "Matthews," someone sings from behind me.

I can't help the blush that surfaces my cheeks once I turn around and come face to face with Chase.

Almost instantly, as much as I wish I could deny it, my eyes drop down to his lips and for a second I cant even understand how they've ever touched mine.

But then he smirks and I realize I'm probably doing wonders for his already too-big ego and my gaze flicks back up to his. "Shh," I whisper harshly. "I'm trying to work."

He scoffs, "We both know you can do this in your sleep."

Not when dreams of me kissing you keep plaguing me, I cant.

I shake my head at him and turn around once more.

About two minutes later I feel a tap on my shoulder and I huff, turning back around once more.

"For the love of God, do your test, Chase," I whisper-yell.

He merely grins at me and sits back in his seat, "I've finished."

"Well, I haven't," I huff.

He hums, "I can see that...is something distracting you, Matthews?"

I narrow my eyes at him, two can play that game. "Nope," I mutter. "Nothing at all."

His lips twitch, he knows I'm lying. Something is in fact distracting me and he's sitting right behind me.

For extra measure I add a quick, "Asshole."

"Lila!"

My ears have never rung like they do when Mr. Wilson even breathes.

I feign innocence, "Yes?"

He glares at me, "You have repeatedly disrupted my class and the students who are trying to focus, and I won't tolerate it," he points to the door. "Out."

I don't even try to argue. I add a period at the end of my last sentence and begin packing my things. I'm halfway done when another voice rings out.

"Actually, Mr. Wilson, I was the one being disruptive, I apologize," he puts a hand to his heart and I glare at him.

Mr. Wilson doesn't miss a beat, "Great. Then you can both go."

Chase doesn't look phased, he grabs his backpack and my hand, stopping briefly to give Mr. Wilson a wink and hauls me outside of the class, the other students staring at us strangely.

I yank my hand out of his grasp, "What the fuck was that, you fucking asshole?" I begin, placing my hands on my hips.

Chase gives me a lazy smile, "I think we've established I'm an asshole, Matthews."

I blow out a breath, hugging my textbook closer to me, "Seriously, Chase. What was that?"

He shrugs, an almost secretive smile playing on his face, "We were being disruptive."

I narrow my eyes at him, "Okay. Now tell me the real answer."

He merely laughs, his entire face brightening up, "That is the real answer."

I raise a brow at him, "I'm not stupid. I can tell when you're lying."

"How so?"

I wave my hand in front of my face, "You start getting all smiley."

His smile widens, "I promise you, Matthews, that's all on you," he says lowly.

I inhale a sharp breath, pausing just at the bench, "What are we gonna tell the desk?" I say, quickly changing the topic. "That I called you an asshole and now we're both here?"

Chase shrugs, "Seems accurate enough, or..."

I look at him, waiting. "Or?"

He gives me a curious look, "Or we don't go to the front office."

I narrow my eyes, "You wanna ditch? Right after we just got kicked out of class, really?"

"I'm pretty hungry, arent you?"

I'm about to say no, but my mouth shuts at the last second and I roll my eyes, "You're a very bad idea, Chase Rhodes."

For some awful reason this only makes him smile harder, "Dont act like you hate it."

"Not it just you," I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.

Chase leans closer, his breath fanning my cheeks, and for a second I think he might kiss me, but instead he says, "You don't hate me."

I swallow, "No?"

"Nope," he steps back. "You like kissing me too much."

My eyes bulge out of my head as he rounds the hall and I stumble after him. "I guess you haven't learned anything from the book you stole from me," I grumble.

Chase side eyes me, "What? That enemies kissing is just way hotter?" he rolls his eyes.

I shrug, "I just know their kisses are a ten out of ten."

Chase runs a hand through his hair, his varsity jacket tugging upwards, "Trust me, I can make kisses a ten out of ten."

"Really?" I state dryly. "Haven't seen it."

He looks almost startled, and I fight the urge to laugh.

If I am being honest, Chase's kisses aren't a ten out ten. They're not meaningless enough to weigh on a scale.

"I guess we'll just have to try again," he mutters lowly.

Shivers break out across my skin as I try to give him my best unaffected look, "Wouldn't you like that?"

He grins unabashedly, "I would, actually."

And then he walks through the double doors, leaving me alone to decipher what the hell that means.

Not long after I've decided that Chase is an anomaly I don't have the time to comprehend, I catch up with him in the parking lot, my breaths coming out in puffs of smoke.

"You know what's scary?" Chase speaks up when we reach his car.

"Enlighten me," I reply flatly.

"The fact that penguins can't fly," he grumbles.

I sigh, "We're back to this?"

"Think about it—if a bird is meant to fly, why the fuck cant penguins," he shakes his head exasperatedly.

"I would answer that but that would make it the fifth time and I don't feel like it," I mutter.

"Fine," he replies, sighing.

The heater turns on and I groan contentedly as I place my fingers against the air vents.

"I thought you liked the cold," Chase states. "You know, because it matches your cold, black heart?" Chase says, gesturing to me.

"I don't have a cold, black heart," I grumble.

"Right," he elongates the word. "Definitely not."

By the time we reach our destination we have already missed lunch at school. Not that I mind that much.

I could definitely use a break from football boys surrounding me.

The flickering light of the diner brings a small smile to my face once we've hopped out of the car, and I turn to look at Chase, "Really? Feeling nostalgic or something?"

He smirks, "You could say that."

The bell rings above our head as we step inside to be welcomed by the familiar chatter, and I shrug my jacket off as we slide into a red and white booth just by the window.

Our waiter shows up and we both order quickly before he nods and walks off, leaving us alone again.

"Let's play a game," Chase starts, leaving forward on his elbows.

I raise a brow at him, "What kind of game?"

"Twenty questions. Except we both take turns to ask ten."

I bite my lip, then nod, "Alright. But I go first."

I feel his feet shift underneath the table, his legs encasing mine and I breathe deeply.

"Never mind, you go first," I say, clearing my throat slightly.

He smiles wolfishly at me, "Favorite color?"

I think for a moment, "Purple? I don't know, I like a lot of them. My turn, when did you start doing the whole...British thing," I tilt my head to the side.

He snorts, "I don't know. When I was in the sixth grade I was in a play—"

I raise my hand, "Woah—wait. You were in a play?"

He narrows his eyes at me, "Yes. And I was an amazing actor," I laugh at that, and he grins. "Anyway, my character was a British farmer that traveled to Canada and the accent kind of got stuck with how much I practiced. But as for it becoming a nervous tick...I'm not really sure," he shrugs. "Somethings just happen like that."

I blink, "Yeah. I guess they do."

He looks at me for a moment, "My turn. When was your first kiss?"

I roll my eyes, "I was twelve. It was with a boy I went out to the movies to with, safe to say twelve year olds aren't great kissers."

"Too much braces?" Chase says.

I nod, "Pretty much."

We go back and forth, asking each other random questions all the way until my basket of fries and his milkshake have arrived.

"What about your first kiss?" I ask, dipping my french fry into ketchup.

Chase laughs, "Hell if I remember. Sometimes they just all blur together."

My brows dip down, "Oh."

Chase gives me an odd look but continues, "Last question, will you believe me if I tell you that you're the only person I've kissed and thoroughly remembered every detail about it?"

I freeze with my fry half way to my mouth, looking up at him. "What if I don't?"

"Then I would have to convince you," he pushes aside his milkshake.

I scoff, "And how would you do that?"

"There's a long day ahead of us, I'm sure I could come up with something," he responds.

"Fine. But I have a rule," I state.

He grins, "Of course you do."

I inhale deeply, "You cant kiss me to prove it."

His smile drops, "Well that's boring."

"Rules are rules," I shrug.

"Fine," he sighs, some of his hair falling into his eyes. "Prepare to be blown away by my romantic skills."

I smile dryly. "I'll make sure to hold onto my hat."

"You're not wearing a hat," he says.

"Great observation, Chase," I grab another fry.

I dip the fry into my small tub of ketchup and place it in my mouth, feeling Chase's eyes track my every movement.

My eyes flick to his, "What?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing."

Its only when I've finished my fries and I'm talking to the waiter do I realize he's been staring at my lips the entire time.

I wonder if I made a huge mistake with the whole kissing thing.

Probably, but I pride myself on being someone that makes men work for it.

"You ready for the best date of your life?" Chase says, shrugging his jacket back on.

I roll my eyes. "It's not a date."

Chase smiles, "Sure. Definitely not a date."

Judging by his expression I get the feeling that this is in fact a date.

Shit.