Page 17 of Deking
I blindly take the rose and the cup from him as he steps back.
“What are you doing here?” I repeat.
“I wanted to walk you to class.” He shrugs.
“You do?”
I can’t hide the bewilderment from my tone. I knew he started gossip that spread like wildfire, but I didn’t actually expect him to start showing up. Kyle never even did things like this, and he was actually my boyfriend.
“Yeah.” The little smirk on his face has my heart beating faster in my chest.
I stare at him for a moment, speechless. I don’t think anyone has walked me to class since my parents dropped me off on my very first day of elementary school.
Before I can figure out what to say, Wyatt places his hand on my lower back and ushers me outside.
“What’s all this?” I ask, holding up the flower and cup.
“The rose is because I wanted to. The cup was because I figured you could use a boost.” He pulls me closer to his side, moving his arm to lay across my shoulders.
“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t drink coffee.”
I feel like a dick for pointing it out, but I can’t pretend to like coffee. It’s gross to me and always upsets my stomach.
He shakes his head as I try to hand it back.
“It’s not coffee. It’s a chai tea with a soy milk and honey blend,” he says as he looks down at me.
I freeze, my eyes widening.
Did he just rattle off my usual order?
“How did you know this was my favorite?” I whisper, unsure what world I am even in anymore.
In three years, Kyle couldn’t tell you what I drank, but after seventy-two hours of dating Wyatt, he knows without me having to even tell him. He’s my fake boyfriend, but if I’m not careful, I could easily fall for a man like him. Where Kyle lacked, Wyatt makes up tenfold.
It makes me wonder if he is acting this way because this is fake and what he thinks he is supposed to do or if this is how he always is. What would Wyatt be like as a real boyfriend?
Wyatt winks. “I have my ways, now come on. We don’t need you to be late.”
We start walking again and I can’t help but steal little glances at him.
Has he always been this sweet, or is this all for show? The thought keeps running through my head.
“So how was class?” he asks.
“It was good,” I mumble.
“Is anyone giving you trouble?”
“I mean, besides the obnoxious staring, no.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the corner of his mouth tip up into a smile. I have heard all about the grumpy goalie who doesn’t talk or smile like ever. Yet around me he isn’t like that. It makes me wonder if all rumors are just that.
Someone gasps as we pass by, shocked by the sight.
Or maybe he doesn’t smile for his adoring fans. I don’t blame them. Half of them are fake.
“You should put that smile away. It’s dangerous,” I hiss at him.
