The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide, #2)

by Emma Hart

  “It’s not your fault.” I shrugged one shoulder and dug into my ice cream. “Actually, it is. If you hadn’t booked out the entire resort…”

  “And that’s why I’m sleeping on the sofa.” The bathroom door shut on his laughter.

  My lips sealed around the spoon and I paused. Yeah. That was why he was sleeping on the sofa.

  I shouldn’t have cared, not really. This entire weekend was all his fault and my crappy mood that meant I felt the need to eat my body weight and then some in junk food.

  Although, this bed was huge.

  I did feel a little guilty.

  Groaning, I leaned back against the headboard and looked up at the ceiling. Why did I have to have a heart?

  The bathroom door swung open and Seb held up one hand. “Sorry. ‘Night.”

  “Sebastian,” I said right before he left the room.

  “What? Do you need anything?” He raised his eyebrows in question. “Did you eat the ice cream already?”

  “No. But I did forget the wine,” I mused.

  “Want me to get it for you?” He disappeared before I could tell him not to worry.

  I pressed my lips together.

  This was why I had a heart.

  It was so hard to be horrible to him and mad at him if he was going to keep being this nice to me.

  Seb reappeared with a glass of wine and brought it over with a smile. He set it on the side table next to the popcorn and turned to leave again. “Night, Holley.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You… You don’t have to sleep on the sofa.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “You don’t have to sleep on the sofa,” I repeated. “It’s uncomfortable.”

  “Actually, it’s not so bad. I might buy one for my house.”

  I pursed my lips. “Do you want to sleep on a sofa or on a bed, Sebastian? I’m not going to offer again.”

  “You don’t want to share with me.”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But I’m also not going to make you sleep on a damn sofa if you don’t have to. This room is big, and as long as you wear pants to bed, it’s fine.”

  “Do I have to wear a shirt?”

  “I’d prefer it.”

  “Then you’re gonna need to wear a bra.”

  “I am not sleeping in a bra,” I argued. “It’s bad enough that I run the risk of being stabbed by an underwire during the day. I don’t need to take the risk of certain death at night.”

  “Certain death? What does an underwire have to do with dying?”

  “Uh, everything. What if it punctures my lung?”

  “An underwire is not going to puncture your lung while you sleep.”

  “Have you ever been stabbed by an underwire?”

  “I can’t say a bra is something I wear on a regular basis,” he said dryly.

  “There you go, then. You can’t possibly know the pain or risk involved just to keep my boobs contained. So, no, I won’t wear a bra.” I sniffed. “My insurance doesn’t cover death by bra.”

  “I can’t imagine it’s something they usually have a claim for.”

  “Keep arguing, and we can find out.”

  He grinned. “You really don’t mind?”

  “I’m starting to think I do after all that,” I answered honestly. “So move quickly before I change my mind.”

  His grin widened, and he did just that, holding up one finger before he darted out of the room to the main room. There was a big rummage and a bang followed by a muffled, “Motherfucker!”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth so a laugh didn’t burst out of me.

  That, my friends, was the universal sound of a stubbed toe.

  “Are you okay?” I called, still desperately trying to stifle my laugh.

  “Stop fucking laughing!” Seb yelled back.

  I did not stop laughing.

  I didn’t even try this time.

  I buried my face in my hands and laughed my ass off.

  “Shut up,” he said, coming back into the room.

  I peered through my fingers. “Are you all right?”

  He stilled, glared at me, and flared his nostrils.

  I giggled. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You’re right. I’m not.”

  He tossed his phone on the bed. It bounced, almost hitting my bowl of ice cream, and he disappeared into the bathroom with a pair of gray sweats in hand.

  Either he was doing that deliberately, or the sweats were payback for my lack of a bra.

  It depended if he was wearing a t-shirt when he came back out.

  Two seconds later, I got my answer.

  I glared at him. “Put on a t-shirt.”

  He grinned. “Do you know how many women want to—”

  “No, nor do I care,” I said, looking down at my tablet.

  Seriously.

  I had to look away from the abs.

  There were loads of them. I didn’t even know people had that many stomach muscles. I sure as hell didn’t, but then I also liked pie, so…

  “You’re fucking adorable when you blush.” The bed squeaked when he got on.

  “I am not blushing.”

  “Tell your cheeks that.”

  I flicked my gaze over at him. He wore that shit-eating grin that bugged the hell out of me, and I had to turn my attention back to my tablet so that I didn’t do something rash.

  Like punch him.

  Or maybe kiss him.

  Wait.

  No, not that. That was random. I was definitely not doing that.

  Why was that even crossing my mind?

  Those fucking sweatpants!

  I opened my book and checked the location. It was where I’d left off this morning, so I went back to my ice cream and my wine.

  I had to forget that I had a pitching god settling down next to me in bed.

  With one million abs, gray sweatpants, and the kind of V-shaped hip muscles that made smart girls do stupid things.

  It’s me.

  I’m the smart girl.

  I groaned internally. By all accounts, this had been a terrible idea. Even if he was keeping his distance and a whole other person could fit between us.

  I still knew he was there, and that really, really sucked.

  He didn’t turn on the television, but he lay quietly on his phone after plugging it in. He wasn’t under the covers yet, and when I’d finished my ice cream, he got up and turned off the main light.

  This time, he got under the covers, but kept the space between us. I kept reading until I’d finished a chapter, then clicked off my tablet and snuggled down myself, switching it out for my phone.

  Then we lay there, backs to one another, not talking, with our eyes on our phones.

  It didn’t last long. I was exhausted, and I hadn’t realized just how tired I really was until I got into bed here.

  I put my phone back on the nightstand, set my glasses on top of it, and nestled down under the covers to stare out of the huge windows that looked out over the resort. Neither of us had closed the drapes, so I had a full view of the beautiful, snow-covered mountains as the moon glinted off them.

  Seb put his phone down, too, plunging the room into another level of darkness. He shifted, rolling onto his back if the dip in the mattress was anything to go by.

  “Holley?”

  “What?” I whispered back.

  “That night. At prom.”

  I swallowed. “Really? Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  I wasn’t going to turn around. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this. “Okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I guess it’s better getting it out in the open, right?

  “Do you remember what you wore?”

  What on Earth made him think I’d forgotten? “Of course I remember. It was senior prom and one of the worst nights of my life.”

  “It was that red dress. It was all poofy at the bottom, and you kept saying
you felt like a freaking mermaid because you couldn’t walk.”

  What the…

  “But you looked amazing.”

  This time, I knew I was blushing.

  “And you had your hair up. It was all twisted with bits around your face and a red rose in the back.”

  “How do you remember that?”

  “Because Iris was wearing a dress like yours and had her hair up, too.”

  “Right.” My tone was bitter. “She knew what I was wearing. She did it deliberately to get at me.”

  “Whyever she did it, she didn’t look half as beautiful as you did.”

  “Then why did you kiss her?”

  He sighed, and the moment that passed was heavy, the air almost thickening in the silence. “Because,” he said softly. “I thought she was you.”

  I froze.

  What did he just say?

  “What?”

  “I was going to kiss you.”

  I jerked up, my momentary paralysis gone, and sat up, turning to look at him. Thanks to the fact we hadn’t closed the curtains, I could see his face perfectly.

  He was staring up at the ceiling with his hands clasped on top of the covers, not moving.

  “What?” I asked again, my mouth completely dry. “You were going to kiss me?”

  Another sigh, and he turned his head to look at me. “Yes. I was looking for you. Someone said they’d seen you go in that direction, and from behind, Iris looked like you. It was really fucking dark, and I was certain it was you. I didn’t even know it was her or that you’d seen us until after you’d left. Tori and Ivy gave me the verbal lashing of my life.”

  My heart was thumping so harshly I could barely speak. I knew what he was saying, but I didn’t know, and I was so confused.

  Well, I was wide awake now.

  “You—you were going to kiss me? Why?”

  “Why do you think? I was about to leave. I didn’t want to go without telling you how I felt.” His eyelashes cast long shadows over his cheeks as he blinked. “If you felt the same, great, we could figure something out. If you didn’t feel the same, then it didn’t matter. I was leaving anyway, and I figured we could just move on.”

  The lump in my throat was huge. I could feel emotion building inside me, and it was torrent, a tornado, something that would absolutely burst from me if I didn’t leave right now and get it under control.

  It’d all been for nothing.

  All of it.

  I’d lost my best friend over a stupid, stupid mistake.

  All because I hadn’t wanted to listen to him.

  I swallowed, but the lump didn’t disappear. It only grew bigger, and when the telltale sting of tears pricked the back of my eyes, I had no choice.

  I couldn’t stay here right now.

  I threw the covers off me and hauled my ass out of the bed, moving quickly to where my open case was lying by the window.

  “Holley—”

  Shaking my head, I grabbed a thick sweater and threw it over my head, then tugged on my Ugg boots. A room key was under the TV, and I slid it off the desk so I knew I could get back in.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I just—I can’t.” I held up my hands, and my entire body vibrated with the effort it took for me to not break down and let years of emotion loose. “I can’t… I need to process this. I’m taking a walk.”

  “This didn’t work last time.”

  I turned around and stared at him. “I know. Believe me, I know. But since we’re at a hotel and I have no way of leaving and nowhere else to sleep, it’s not like I’m going anywhere else.”

  “I’ll—"

  “Sebastian, what you don’t know is that the reason you kissing her hurt so much was because I was going to tell you that I had feelings for you.”

  His eyes widened, flashing with surprise.

  “So excuse me if I need a moment to figure out what the hell I just learned, because this is a mess.” I tapped the side of my head and, on that note, walked out of the room.

  And the suite.

  Right into the hall where nobody else was and it was silent and I was alone.

  I walked, keeping my head down. And I walked and I walked and I walked, taking cases of stairs up and down and through corridors. I passed a gym and a sauna, a spa, and at least two restaurants and a bar.

  I don’t know how long I walked for, but finally, I stopped. The wall in front of me was purely windows, and it looked like a huge upstairs lobby. Rustic leather sofas overlooked the windows, and I dropped down onto one, my gaze never leaving outside.

  And finally, I cried.

  Cried for my eighteen-year-old broken heart.

  Cried for the loss of our friendship.

  Cried for what could have been.

  And cried because I was so, so fucking stupid.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN – SEBASTIAN

  rule eleven: don’t break a girl’s heart before you need her to be your girlfriend.

  She’d had feelings for me.

  I’d woken up a thousand times last night and that was the only fucking thought I’d had.

  Holley had had feelings for me, too.

  Shit.

  This was a mess.

  I rolled onto my back and looked at the other side of the bed. I’d woken up several minutes ago at the sound of the shower starting. I had no idea if she’d slept in the bed last night, but I was going to feel like a royal shit if she hadn’t.

  I never should have told her.

  Not last night. Not like that.

  I should have waited until tonight when this was all over or, even better, tomorrow morning once the wedding was done and I was taking her to get her car.

  I forced myself into sitting up and rubbed my eyes. They were blurry and full of sleep, and I yawned and stretched in an attempt to wake myself up fully.

  The shower was still running at full speed, so I leaned over for the phone on Holley’s side of the bed and dialed for room service. After ordering us coffee and an array of breakfast things, I got up and put on a t-shirt.

  That had been a point of contention for her last night, and I didn’t want to annoy her any further.

  The shower water cut off as I sat back down. The wedding wasn’t until this afternoon, so there was plenty of time for us to talk over what I’d said last night.

  At least I hoped we could.

  We needed to clear the air. I didn’t begrudge her for the way she’d reacted back then—we were so young, and it wasn’t like I’d ever told anyone how I felt about her. There was nobody to back me up, and by the time there was, it was too late.

  She’d scrubbed me out of her life.

  It stung that it was all over a mistake, but that was why I’d let her go last night. If I was shaken by the revelation that she’d once had feelings for me, I couldn’t imagine how she felt.

  Did she feel the same way I did? That it’d all been for, what was, essentially nothing? It’d been a huge misunderstanding, and if it’d happened now, maybe it would have ended differently.

  I know it would have.

  If it’d happened now, there was no way I’d ever have left without telling her the truth.

  Back then, I hadn’t had the balls to make her listen.

  If I regretted not making her listen, did she regret not letting me talk when I’d tried?

  That was a stupid question. I knew her—she hadn’t changed, not like she pretended she had. That was why she’d needed to go last night. It was because she’d needed to reconcile what she knew now with what she thought she knew.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  I couldn’t believe she’d felt the same way I had.

  If I’d known…

  I blew out a long breath and leaned back against the headboard, turning to look out of the window. The early morning sun glinted off the snow, and the lingering glow of the sunrise as it fully crept up into the sky left the mountains bathed in an orange hue that made it feel like I was staring at a real-life pos
tcard.

  The bathroom door opened, and Holley stepped out, pausing in the doorway when she caught sight of me awake. She was wearing nothing but two towels—one wrapped around her body that she clutched at her breasts, and one twisted around her hair.

  Water droplets ran down the sides of her faces and onto her chest where they traversed the curve of her collarbone, disappearing into the fluffy white towel that, if her white knuckles were any indication, she was gripping onto like her life depended on it.

  “Morning,” I said gently.

  Her tongue darted out and wet her lips. “Morning.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better,” she replied, somewhat more honestly than I thought she would.

  Something told me she didn’t want to talk about it right now.

  “I ordered breakfast,” I offered. “I didn’t know what you wanted so I got a bunch of stuff. And coffee. And fruit.”

  Nodding, she shifted, still holding onto the towel. “Not that this conversation isn’t completely riveting, but would you mind if I put on some panties?”

  Right.

  She was naked under that towel.

  Mother—

  I shifted on the bed and moved the covers so she wouldn’t see the fact that my cock had apparently engaged its brain and realized that fact at the same time my actual brain had.

  If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  She grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and disappeared back into the bathroom. I breathed out a sigh of relief when the door clicked shut, then moved the covers aside and looked down at my traitorous penis.

  “Get down,” I whispered to it. “This is not the time.”

  Now don’t think I’d lost my mind.

  It could hear me.

  Whether it listened was another matter altogether.

  I dropped the covers again, and just in time. Holley came back out, this time fully clothed, but still wearing the towel on her head. She’d obviously caught my movement because she frowned before quickly schooling her expression into one of nonchalance.

  “You wanna talk?”

  “No,” she answered. “Not really.” She bent over and flipped her head forward so the towel loosened, unwinding until her wet hair flicked down. She squeezed the towel around her dark hair, then rubbed her scalp before she straightened and flicked it back up again.