Cheesy on the Eyes by Teagan Hunter Page 0,24

forehead or something, but no groping me…again.”

“It would be weird if I didn’t touch you at all, so that I can do. Just no tit grabs.”

“No tit grabs,” she says. “Another rule: no telling people this is fake.”

I nod. “Because then we’d have to remember who knows and who doesn’t. Smart.”

“Right, and this is a small town and my parents’ ears are wide open to gossip. We have to make this—”

“Believable, I heard you.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Maybe we should make a couple lists of basics and exchange them. You know, things we should know about each other, like the fact that you’re a walking abomination who doesn’t like pizza.”

“I’ll break up with you right here, I swear it.”

“Liar. You need me too much.”

“Shit,” she mumbles. “Good point. Okay, so the last rule I can think of for now is—”

“What? I can’t add another rule?”

“If you interrupt me one more time, I swear…” She mutters something I can’t quite make out, then looks at me pointedly. “Do you have another rule to add?”

“No.”

She growls, and it’s so cute coming out of her tiny frame that it takes my all not to laugh. “If at any time this becomes too real for either of us, we call it off.”

“Too real like…”

“Feelings, Sully. If you start having feelings for me—and not just ones in your pants—then we’re done. I don’t have time to date right now. I’m just too busy. Hence me being here on a Sunday.”

She’s covering her heartbreak with that excuse. I can feel it. She’s too afraid to get back out there, letting her busy work schedule control her life to avoid putting her heart on the line again.

I won’t argue with her rule though. I’m not looking for anything serious. Sure, all my friends are settling down and starting families with their wives, but that doesn’t mean I have to jump on that bandwagon. I’m happy. I’m good. Why mess up a good thing?

“So you’re saying it’s inevitable I’ll have—what was it? Feelings in my pants? Someone has a big ego.”

Another growl.

This time I do laugh, squeezing my eyes shut and tossing my head back. “Holy fuck, this idea sounds completely ridiculous. We’re so screwed.”

“It’s easily the worst idea I’ve ever had,” she agrees.

She’s right. This is a horrible idea. Absolutely fucking bonkers.

If she thinks this scheme will be pulled off flawlessly, she’s mental. We’ll stumble…a lot. Still, it’s obvious she’s backed herself into a corner, and I’d much rather her be stuck fake-dating me than some weirdo out there she found on an app.

Besides, what’s the harm in a little make-believe? It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with her.

“We’re doing this?”

“Yep,” she answers quickly.

I’m not certain if it’s because she’s one hundred percent sure about this, or because she’s too afraid to give herself time to back out of it, leaving her to disappoint her parents.

I exhale heavily. “Okay. Fine. I agree to all your terms. Let’s do this.” I smack my hands together, getting myself pumped up. “We should probably shake on it. My friend Porter has this thing about making deals and shaking on it.”

“It’s just good business practice,” Thea says, like we’re in Business 101.

She hops off the stool, and I cross the short distance to her.

We stand about a foot apart.

“I feel like we should say something.”

“Banana hammock.”

Thea sputters out a laugh. “What the fuck?”

“What?” I shrug. “You said we should say something. That’s the first thing I thought of.”

“Is it weird this is the moment I’m truly questioning my decisions?”

“If by weird you mean extremely alarming, then yes.”

Her lips pull up and she sticks her hand out. “I, Thea Schwartz, promise to be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had. If for any reason I cannot contain my lady loins, I’ll respectfully bow out and tell my mother this was all a ruse.”

I blink at her, unsure what to address first. “I have so many questions regarding what you just said, but I’ll start with the most basic. Is Thea not short for anything?”

“It is, but only old ladies call me it, and you’re not an old lady, so you don’t need to know.” She shakes my hand impatiently, and I toy with the idea of drawing this out longer, enjoying the touch of her skin against mine. “Your turn.”

I take a deep breath, because I know once I do this, I’m in it.

“I, Sullivan, promise—”

“No, no. You have to say your last name or