Ten Rules for Faking It

by Sophie Sullivan

  “Back at you, bro. Stand still. Reassess. You can be pissed all you want, but I’m worried you’re going to get back to New York only to realize that everything you wanted … everyone you wanted … was right here in California. You can’t plan for everything, Chris. Sometimes you have to let life just happen.”

  Chris leaned in. “My life is finally starting to happen.” Everything he wanted was within his grasp.

  Noah shrugged. “Keep telling yourself that. Just answer one thing.”

  Chris waited. Noah stared at him, giving nothing away.

  “If I tell you to think of something that makes you truly happy, what’s the first thing that pops into your brain?”

  Everly. Shit. Her image snuck in without any effort at all. He’d seen his father throw away wives the way he did businesses, and he wasn’t about to do that with Everly. She deserved more. He had a plan that involved New York. Once he was waist deep in it, he could think about the next step.

  Noah set his beer down. Chris glared at him, grateful when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it.” Chris started to walk away, but when Noah chuckled behind him, he raised his hand and shot his brother the finger. Noah only laughed harder.

  * * *

  The sun had lowered itself in the sky as if it were settling in for the best part of the evening. Streaks of red and orange blazed out from each side of the orb, creating a painting-like view. There was a path leading from the house down to the water. A few of the staff had headed that way when they’d heard about a bonfire at the beach. Mari and Mason were playing Frisbee with Kitty and Luke, both of whom brought significant others.

  Jane was chatting with Benny and his wife, enjoying the wide variety of finger foods the caterer had set out. Noah was showing Stacey how to play boccie ball and stopping every five seconds to laugh gregariously at something she’d said.

  Chris glanced around, trying not to seem like he was looking for someone specific. Everly showed up on her own, right after Stacey. He hadn’t talked to her about her final date, but he didn’t want tonight to be about work. Or the men she’s dating. He’d thought the two friends would come together, but Stacey claimed Everly had a list of things that she had to do. Apparently, she was serious about her lists. The thought of it made Chris smile.

  He walked out into the backyard, watched the Frisbee game for a few minutes, and then decided to take the path down to the beach.

  He expected—okay, hoped—to find Everly by the beach. He was surprised to see her sitting off to the side of the entrance to the main area. She sat, knees drawn up to her chest, on a bench, staring out at the ocean with a quiet focus he didn’t want to break. It was no hardship to stare. She wore a soft gray shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. Her legs were paler than her arms and face. Now that he was looking at her, he realized, she rarely wore shorts. Capris, the odd dress here and there, but rarely shorts. She’d looked beautiful in pink last weekend, but tonight, she looked soft and sweet. Approachable. It struck him that, over the last several weeks, she’d started to share more sides of herself even if it was just through subtle changes in her wardrobe.

  “You don’t have to stay over there,” she said quietly.

  Chris laughed, walking over. He settled beside her. “Clearly, my application to ninja school should be denied.”

  She turned her head to smile at him. “Stealth you are not.”

  “It’s beautiful here,” he said, meaning the ocean but unable to look away from Everly.

  “It is. I love the water. I never make time to come enjoy it.” She looked back toward the seagulls diving in the shallow waves.

  He took a long swallow of his beer, and when she looked at him again, he offered it to her. She took a sip and then scrunched her nose in an adorable way.

  “I hate beer. I try it every now and again because so many people love it. My dad is in a craft beer craze. That’s how he’s handling the latest break with my mom. But I can’t get used to it. It tastes like … wet bread.”

  Chris laughed, taking his beer back. “Wow. I guess our taste buds are different, because I was thinking more nectar of the gods.”

  She grinned. “That would be the Oreo milkshake at the Burger Shack.”

  “Also delicious. So, your mom and dad aren’t together right now?” Was it weird that he wished he could erase the sadness in her tone?

  She rested her head on her knees, and Chris had to fight down the urge to put his arm around her and pull her closer.

  “It shouldn’t matter. I’m thirty years old. I don’t need my parents to stay together to make me happy. But it would make me happier if they didn’t both think they needed to get me on their side. It’s like this covert competition to see who can hang out with me more right now. They don’t understand that I don’t want to hang out with anyone.” She scrunched her nose again. “Present company excluded.”

  Another chuckle rumbled from his chest. The ocean breeze had tendrils of hair dancing across her cheeks.

  “Obviously,” he said. “Your dance card has been rather full lately. Come to any great conclusions?” He hoped she understood that he was asking as her friend, not the person who’d orchestrated her busy social life. How did she see him? He wondered if maybe she’d found something more with one of the men. Owen? Everything else aside, he’d be happy if she was. Regardless of whether she chose one of them or not, she deserved contentment. Whatever that looked like for her. He’d never really thought about that aspect of caring for someone—the idea of wanting them to have what they wanted or needed. Her happiness increasing his own.

  “Definitely,” she said, lifting her head again.

  Chris’s heart thundered in his chest. He lifted his beer but didn’t drink. His throat was dry, but he knew it wouldn’t taste good while he wondered about her declaration. Her final date post hadn’t revealed anything significant except that of the two this week, Daniel was out. But maybe she’d known from the start. The final two were being announced tomorrow. His breath froze in his lungs.

  “I conclude that I’m not a very good dancer. Or in this case, dater.”

  The muscles in his chest loosened so he could breathe again. “I don’t believe that.” If he was leaving, which might happen sooner rather than later, he needed her to understand how he saw her. “You’re an … amazing dancer. You’re bright, funny, and beautiful. This isn’t about any of those guys, Everly. It’s about you. You realizing it’s your choice. All of it. Wherever you want to go, personally or professionally, you’ll get there. You deserve great things because you’re a great person.”

  He didn’t mean to stare at her lips but found himself fascinated with the way they formed a small o as if he’d surprised her. His gaze moved up, reaching Everly’s.

  “That was a really nice thing to say,” she whispered.

  “Maybe, but it’s also true. You amaze me,” he replied. The moon was casting a glow, stars were dotting the sky, and the moment, all of that combined with sitting next to her, felt a little like magic. The kind that brought out the truth.

  “You don’t get out much.” She sat straighter, put her hands flat on either side of her.

  Chris covered her hand. “Don’t do that. You kick ass, Everly. In so many ways.”

  She blinked several times, then smiled at him, lighting up his chest the way the moon lit the sky.

  He didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know. “Did you choose?” His pulse caught in his throat.

  Everly turned her hand over under his, essentially linking their fingers, though neither of them curled in to tighten the grasp. He didn’t think he’d ever been so aware of his hand.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She turned her head, looked down at their hands before looking up at him. “At least, I think so.”

  He nodded, removed his hand but not his gaze. This was good. Excellent. His other hand gripped the bottle so tightly he forced himself to loosen his hold.

  They stared at each other longer than either of them should h
ave, and the more he looked, the more he wanted to move closer, pull her near and tip her face up to his, feel her lips move under his own, and find out once and for all if she tasted as good as she always smelled. She chose.

  “You do that sometimes,” she whispered, her face a fraction closer.

  His own breathing hitched now. “What’s that?”

  “Look at me like you’re thinking things I can’t imagine you thinking,” she said, her voice still so quiet it was hard to hear her. Except that he could hear her because he was hanging on every word she said. His heart was having a seizure behind his rib cage.

  “I think all sorts of things,” he said, his own voice husky. Things he shouldn’t, couldn’t entertain. Happiness came from setting a goal, achieving it. He was so close. So is she. So close you could kiss her, just brush your mouth over her lips.

  “About me?”

  All. The. Time. They were close enough to share the same tiny molecules of air. They were breathing each other in and out. Chris’s heart took up residence in his ears, the steady thump drowning out the waves rolling in.

  Everly blinked, her eyes moving to his mouth, lingering there long enough to have Chris biting back a groan. Their fingers linked. Not by accident. Chris wanted to kiss Everly more than he wanted anything. More than going home, gaining his father’s approval, or taking his rightful seat at the helm. When he’d arrived in California, those three things had been his sole focus. His mission. They were nothing compared to the desire thrumming through his entire being in this second. Business, his father, they didn’t exist. His home? It was wherever he could see her face. Touch her. Breathe her in. In that moment, Chris would have turned himself inside out and upside down if it meant having even the smallest chance at being in Everly’s heart. Of finding a way inside of it.

  “Hey! We’re going to play Never Have I Ever. Come on, oh boring ones. Let’s go. I saw ingredients for margaritas,” Stacey said, bouncing over out of nowhere. Noah was trailing behind her chatting with Jane, who must have joined them without Everly or Chris noticing.

  “Whoa, what’s going down, Charlie Brown? Why do you look so serious, boo?” Stacey settled herself more on Everly than beside her. “Mmm. You smell good. Doesn’t she smell good, Chris? You make me want cookies.”

  Everly laughed and pushed Stacey away from her. “You’re drunk and do not need margaritas.”

  “Whatever, Mom. I’m having one, and you can’t stop me.”

  Everly shook her head, her smile tight. “I will stop you, because one of us needs to make you act responsibly. You’re going to feel sick tomorrow, and we have the event for Rob.” She stroked a hand down Stacey’s hair, gentling the words.

  “Hmm. Rob. Right. Make you a deal. You play Never Have I Ever, and I won’t have a mar … mar-har … when did that get hard to say?”

  Chris laughed with the others, but something very much like disappointment settled in his gut. He didn’t feel like playing a game right now, but he definitely had something that fit. That would always be true for him. Never have I ever had the pleasure of kissing Everly Dean.

  [31]

  Everly joined the others around the propane fire pit on the wide, wooden-planked deck. She couldn’t even process how gorgeous this home was. It was like something out of a magazine. She loved her apartment. It was her happy place, but one day, she could imagine buying a home, making it her own. Not one like this, though. A little out of your price range. People settled on or around two L-shaped outdoor couches. The furniture was set up for conversation with a gas fireplace in the middle. Are you hoping that by thinking about furniture and houses, you won’t think about how close Chris’s mouth was to yours? Or how you wanted to close the space between you more than you wanted to breathe?

  “You look pretty serious. You okay?” Chris sat beside her looking like he wasn’t at all shaken over what almost happened.

  Her lungs paused. Everly was almost 100 percent positive that if Stacey hadn’t interrupted, she and Chris would have kissed. Even now, just thinking about the “almost” had her stomach swooping like a trapeze artist, thrill and terror mingling together. She couldn’t think about what “actually” would do to her body and mind if it happened.

  If he’s fine, acting like nothing almost happened, you can do that, too. “Porches are nice,” she said, swallowing loudly. Really? “Porches are nice”? “I mean, I was thinking about how beautiful this house is and that if I ever buy a house, I think I’d like a nice big veranda like this.”

  There. Coherent sentences, even breaths, lungs functioning normally. Just don’t look at him. Or think about the fact that your thighs are touching. That’s just so others fit. Others you work with. Your coworkers and friends.

  “I agree,” Chris said, no censure or judgment in his voice. “I’d sit out here every morning for coffee and watch the sun come up.”

  Now she looked at him as the others talked, laughed, grabbed drinks, and sat down. “Same.”

  She couldn’t help the grin that blossomed. Maybe they weren’t so different. Maybe there were ways around … his eyes traveled to her mouth, and her stomach tightened with want. Pure, unadulterated, to-the-core want. She’d been on six dates in the last month. And the man she wanted was sitting right beside her, looking like he’d like to pick up where they’d left off, several inches closer to each other.

  “Everly,” he whispered.

  One of his hands held a beer, and the other rested on his thigh. With the subtlest of movements, that no one would see even with the moon glowing behind pockets of clouds and the strings of small outdoor lights along the patio roof, his hand touched her own. Tiny vibrations of sensation, like miniature pulse points, beat up her arm, burrowed into her chest, and she sighed, locked her gaze with his.

  His eyes were questioning, and all she could do was widen her smile.

  “Okay,” Stacey said, half falling, half sitting in the chair across from them. She looked around at the group. “Everyone have a drink? Excellent. This is how this works for those of you newbies. Someone starts by saying, ‘Never have I ever,’ and they complete the sentence with something they’ve never done.” She stopped, looked around to make sure everyone was with her so far.

  Everly laughed, but it felt like an out-of-body experience, because even though she was listening to Stacey, 99 percent of her focus and attention was on the two inches of skin touching Chris.

  “We got it, Stace. None of us are as drunk as you,” Mason said, laughing and raising his beer.

  “Cool. That’s not all. Whoever has done whatever the person says they haven’t done … Wait … Is that … Yeah, that’s right. If you have done what they say, you have to drink. Got it?”

  “Maybe you should switch to water,” Everly said, that 1 percent of herself beginning to worry Stacey should just be tucked into bed.

  “Meh. Noah watered down my drink, anyway. Buzzkill.”

  Noah gave a hearty laugh. It was similar to Chris’s but did nothing to the butterflies in Everly’s stomach. Nope. Those were apparently trained to respond to men she shouldn’t want. Man. One man.

  “Why don’t you start, Stacey?” Noah said, throwing his legs up over one side of the chair he was draped on.

  So much more casual than Chris, but she noticed when he’d stopped by their meeting last week, he had the same air of authority that Chris did when speaking to a group.

  Stacey tapped her lip with one finger. “Okay, never have I ever … oh! Never have I ever skinny-dipped.” She grinned like she’d just won a prize and glanced around the room.

  When Jane tipped her drink up first, several people hooted and hollered.

  Stacey’s jaw dropped. “Sweet, button-up-collar Jane? Really? I need to up my game.”

  Her girlfriend, a long-haired brunette with a distinctly bohemian style, put a hand on her shoulder and joined her in taking a drink, but neither added to the story.

  “My turn now?” Jane looked up at her girlfriend. She seemed very into her,
and Everly felt bad she didn’t know more about some of the people she’d worked with for years. She needed to stop being so closed off. You’re working on it.

  “Never have I ever … played a musical instrument.”

  Several people took a drink, while Stacey claimed that one was boring. When Chris drank, Everly arched a brow.

  His pinkie rubbed along hers. How many freaking nerve endings could one little pinkie have? And since when were they all hardwired to other important parts of her?

  “Flute,” he whispered. “In junior high.”

  She bit her lip to keep from grinning about this new information. “Nice.”

  Mason took a long drink. “Picked up a guitar at sixteen because I figured chicks dig it. I was not wrong. I also was not good.”

  Laughter prolonged the game while others shared stories.

  “Mason’s turn,” Stacey said, cozying into her seat a little more, her head drooping.

  “Never have I ever gotten drunk playing one of these games,” Mason said.

  Several people drank, including Everly. Chris looked at her, and even though they were surrounded by people and music and waves crashing in the distance, she felt like they were in their own bubble.

  “That surprises me,” he said.

  “I was a teenager once, you know,” she said after taking her drink.

  “Everly’s turn,” Kitty said.

  “Why’s it my turn?”

  “You haven’t gone yet.” Kitty shrugged, like the reason was obvious. Others looked her way. When she was younger, there were times she had to pull on an invisible shield that let her get through things, like speaking in front of her class, with minimal panic. Faux confidence brought on by necessity.

  Counting to ten in her head helped to loosen the pressure in her chest. Chris’s finger sliding over hers, covering it like he had last weekend at the restaurant, pushed everything else out of her head.

  “Never have I ever dated someone who I knew was going to be my forever,” she said. Even knowing Owen was her choice of the bachelors, who was to say where it would go? There was a slight pause, and she cursed herself for turning things so seriously, but what was she supposed to say? I’ve never had sex outside? I’ve never done anything terrifying? I’ve never done anything exciting? She didn’t need people to know these things even if there was a strong chance they wouldn’t remember tomorrow.