Page 56 of Don't Be in Love

What an instigator. “I’m not one for holidays. But I’d love to hear about the party when it’s over.” I smiled before he could ask.

He didn’t care. “Mia and Sabrina already told James yes.”

“You’re despicable.”

“Just thorough.”

“Where’s the party?”

“James’s mum’s home right outside London. Tomorrow night.” As we approached a puddle, he caught my hand so I could hop over. I attempted to detach myself from the feeling until my hand was back at my side. “It’s invite-only, so no one else from Townsen will be there. You’d even get to wear a pretty dress.”

“I’ll think about it.” I wouldn’t. Thinking about it would be precarious. It would mean I wanted to say yes.

We turned down my street. My tree waited at the end of the block.

But he stopped abruptly, pulling us to the side under the black and white striped awning of Brina’s favorite floral shop, away from those passing by. It was closed now, its black windows acting as a mirror.

“Come with me. Be my date,” he offered. He dropped the umbrella at his side.

I wanted to say yes.

But my answer had to be no. I couldn’t letwantingsteer my life. I’d end up like my parents if I did.

“Dorian—”

“Hear me out. It’s a masquerade. No one will know it’s you. No one would know it’s us.”

“My friend loves you,” I reiterated.

He stepped closer.

My throat tightened. The bones making up each structure in my chest wavered like a coastal cottage cracked by the salty ocean air.

The telephone booth across the street watched us. The lights inside flickered as if it was frantically waving a hand saying,What are you doing?

I don’t know. I really don’t know. His hand is on my forearm and it’s draining me of all my logic.

“Based on the way you’re looking at me right now, I’m starting to doubt that’s the reason.” He shook his head. Rain droplets flew from the ends of his hair.

“It doesn’t matter what my reason is. You have a girlfriend.”

“I do not.” His eyebrows drew in.

“I saw about twenty articles that said so.”

“You sure know nothing about a fake headline for someone working in marketing.”

“You’rekissingsomeone in them.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he pressed.

“Do you hear yourself?”

“It. Doesn’t. Mean. Anything.”

“Prove it then,”I argued.

One moment his eyes were skipping across my face like a pebble in a pond. And the next, his hand was leaving my forearm and taking the back of my neck, pulling me in.