The Bookworm's Guide to Faking (The Bookworm's Guide #2) - Emma Hart Page 0,28

you’re a virgin and you’re… not.

“This is a disaster,” I hissed to Sebastian, wishing I could extricate his arm from around my shoulders.

“It would go better if you’d stop smiling like you’re possessed,” he muttered back.

“I am possessed. Possessed by anger.”

“Holley.”

“Sebastian,” I snapped back, still making an effort to keep my voice low. “Do not start with me. I am not in the mood.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“This is all your fault.” I turned around to face the bartender. The movement shrugged his arm from around me, but in such a natural way that it didn’t look like we were mid-fight.

Because we were.

We were mid-fight.

From the moment we’d stepped into this room, we’d had to pretend like we were dating. His mom had introduced me to almost everyone in this room as ‘Sebastian’s girlfriend, Holley,’ and we’d had approximately five seconds to come up with a story about how we’d reconnected when he came back to White Peak.

If you were wondering, it was all very sweet and romantic and had started when he’d stopped by my bookstore to pick up a book for his mom. It’d just happened to be before my lunch break, so he’d taken me for lunch, and that was all she wrote.

I wanted to vomit. It was so romance novel-esque that if it’d happened in real life, it would have been a dream. So sweet. So perfect. So romantic.

But it wasn’t real.

And it wasn’t a dream.

This right here was a nightmare.

He’d stopped by my bookstore, all right, but there’d been nothing enjoyable or sweet about it.

I handed ten dollars to the barman and took my glass of wine without turning back around. I couldn’t believe this was going this badly. Not that the night was—no, the night itself was going perfectly fine.

The rehearsal dinner had gone off without a hitch, much to Kate’s relief. She was now soaking up as much time as she could with her fiancé, Spencer, before they were split up tonight ahead of the wedding. They were being stopped every few steps, and I swore May was about to step in and whisk them off somewhere for a moment.

To sum up, it was going exactly as well as you’d expect it to.

Except that my night… wasn’t.

I couldn’t believe I’d been roped into this. I know, I know, I’d said it a thousand times, but seriously. If it weren’t for Sebastian, I’d be at home right now. In bed. With my book and my snacks.

That was how a Friday night should be spent.

Instead I was here in a black, long-sleeved dress with a scooping neckline and high heels pretending I was Sebastian’s girlfriend.

All the women in the world, and here I was.

Why couldn’t he have paid someone to do this? It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, turning around and leaning on the bar next to me. He dipped his head so his mouth was close to my ear, and his firm bicep brushed against mine. “There’s nothing I can do. If I argue, it’ll only ruin Kate’s night.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I knew he was right, and for the record, I didn’t think he was any happier about this than I was. I did understand what he was saying, though, and I wasn’t about to be the brat who ruined his sister’s wedding.

“I know that,” I said, softening a little bit. “But does your mom realize what a situation this puts us in? And that’s before you consider the fact that you’re famous. If the media come after me, I’m going to kill you.”

He sighed and motioned for another beer. “No, I don’t think she does realize it. I think she’s just going with the motions because it’s easier for her. She doesn’t often think about other people when she’s in one of these moods.”

I made a noise that agreed with him and quickly snagged an empty stool before someone else could get it. Seb grabbed his bottle and turned to the side, looking over at where his mom was entertaining some of the guests. She was a natural, someone who thrived in social situations and could charm the pants off a monk if she really wanted to.

Kate was the same. All the women in his family were like that, and to an extent, I envied them.

Because I just… wasn’t.

I was quiet and reserved and a little—lot—nerdy, content to spend my weekends wrapped up under a blanket with thick socks, hot cocoa, soup,