Faked - Karla Sorensen Page 0,36

of that fantasy running through my head, this almost was killing me.

Everywhere, we were almost touching. Her hair, again, was just beyond my hands. Her shoulder blades were less than an inch from my forearm. Her hip was close enough to mine that I could feel the heat of her body. And it was torture. For two hours, we sat there, each of us occasionally entering the conversation that flowed easily between my parents and Richard.

For all intents and purposes, we were as useful as all the gaudy decoration that Richard had up on the walls, but he wanted us there, nonetheless.

When the sun was fully set, and the skies dark, Claire yawned behind her hand.

"Ready to head upstairs?" I asked, leaning my head toward hers.

She nodded, turning toward me to meet my eyes, not realizing I'd moved. Her breath caught when my thumb moved to brush a stray piece of hair off her cheekbone.

"You have freckles," I whispered, quietly enough that no one could hear us.

Her nod was jerky, but she didn't pull back. "J-just when I get some sun."

I hummed. "I like it."

Richard cleared his throat, and his intrusion felt harsh and unwelcome in that little space I was occupying with Claire. "Well," he said knowingly. "I think it's time to wrap up the evening."

Adele stood, giving me a warning look. "Yes, it looks like it."

Claire got off the loveseat before I did because I had to take ten seconds to recite the Pledge of Allegiance in my head before standing or else I risked embarrassing myself.

"Good night, everyone," Claire said.

I followed her up the stairs and down the hall.

Neither of us said a word.

The walk to our bedroom was tense, and I imagined all sorts of scenarios as soon as we were behind closed doors.

Her, yanking me against her soft, warm body and asking me to kiss her.

Me, digging my hands underneath the cotton of her shirt and finding out if her lips were as soft as I'd imagined, if her tongue was sweet and cool.

She pushed open the door, and I sucked in a breath, closing it quietly and then resting my back against it while she marched straight for her backpack, pulled out some pajamas, and without a single glance in my direction, walked into the bathroom.

My entire being deflated.

Yeah. Everything.

"Of course," I whispered. "What did you think would happen?"

By the time she came out of the bathroom, clad in another set of cotton shorts, and a well-loved T-shirt, I was sprawled on that stupid couch and staring up at the ceiling.

Of the two of us, I knew who was being smart, and as usual, it wasn't me.

She could probably sense my aversion to any sort of serious relationship. I wasn't kidding in the car. I'd had one attempt, and it ended with me feeling like a chump. It was easier with no strings. No repeat faces or expectations. That way, I didn't even have to worry about a messy fallout, whether caused by me or someone else.

Claire quietly climbed into her too-big bed, and I heard her sigh. "That wasn't so bad."

I smiled at her tentatively spoken words.

"No, not too bad."

"Are …" She paused. "Is the couch terribly uncomfortable?"

It was worse than uncomfortable.

By morning, my back would be bent in half, and my neck would be so jacked up that the best chiro would need seventeen appointments to fix the damage. Plus, it smelled like mothballs.

"It'll be just fine."

"You're lying to me, aren't you?"

I turned my head to look at her. Her eyes were wide in her face, and something about being in this room with me made her visibly nervous.

"Good night, princess."

Her smile, the one she gave me before she disappeared under the blankets, did such strange things to my heart that I knew I'd sleep on that couch a hundred times over just to get a glimpse of it.

And me and Claire, we had no idea that our little adventure hadn't even begun yet.

Chapter Twelve

Claire

Waking in that monstrosity of a bed was disorienting, to say the least. It was so, so dark in the room that it took me a solid thirty seconds to get my bearings.

At some point, after he sprawled his big body on the little couch, Bauer must've woken to tug the heavy velvet curtains shut. The tiniest sliver of light came through the separation of the two pieces of fabric, and the way it fell, it cut straight across the middle of the room. Almost like a line