Page 38 of In the Net (Sin Bin Stories #5)

HARPER

I had sex with my fake boyfriend.

There hasn’t been a repeat of what happened in Sebastian’s room after we kissed at the ice rink. As if by unspoken agreement, we haven’t even talked about it.

But neither of us needs to say anything to know that there’s something very different about our fake relationship now.

We’re not even pretending that we still don’t like each other.

We send each other messages all day long.

He stops by my place to watch a movie or a couple episodes of a show that came up in one of our conversations.

We still tease and throw verbal jabs at each other, but the routine feels a lot more like flirting than insulting these days.

It’s almost like we’re friends. Friends who had the most mind-blowing sex in world history one day and decided to just not talk about it afterward.

But it’s not a friendly feeling that I get every time I see Sebastian. That hum of arousal between my thighs doesn’t feel platonic at all. Neither does the way his hungry gaze openly rakes over my body every time we’re together.

Despite that, neither of us has made a move to cross the line into getting physical like we did last week.

I ask myself why I haven’t been the one to do so, and the answer explains why we’re in this strange sort of limbo right now.

This thing still has an expiration date. Sebastian agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend for Sophia’s wedding. The day after that, when we come back to Cedar Shade, is the obvious finish line for this charade.

If I let myself get too used to kissing Sebastian, too used to his hands on my body, too used to the way he feels between my legs, I could be setting myself up for a rough landing when our arrangement expires and he’s free to date or hook up with any girl he wants again.

While I’m walking home from class, I suddenly stumble to a stop as warm hands cup around my eyes from behind me, turning my vision black.

“Guess who?” Sebastian’s voice sounds from behind me.

“Jason?” I ask, being sure to put a twang of excitement in my voice.

A low, possessive growl from Sebastian vibrates against my back. I giggle, even as the sound gives me a twisty feeling in my stomach.

I don’t know how Sebastian is so good at sneaking up behind me like this. A guy as big as him shouldn’t be so stealthy.

Sebastian’s hands slide away from my eyes and fasten onto my shoulders, turning me around to face him.

His blue eyes gleam behind his glasses. “My girlfriend still likes to tease me, I see.”

Warmth curls through my insides, and I try to keep blush from spreading to my cheeks. I tilt a shoulder. “Someone has to do it.”

I used to tease him out of malice, now it’s just a fun game we play. A strange feeling pinches in my chest. Will we tease each other at all after the wedding, when this arrangement of ours expires?

Sebastian shrugs his bookbag off one shoulder and zips it open. “Present,” he says, reaching inside.

My interest piques. “Present?”

He hands me a book. The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith. We were both talking about how we’d been interested in reading it a couple days ago.

“I thought we could read it together,” Sebastian says. A soft, comfy feeling spills through me. “For the next two weeks I’m going to be gone at away games more often than usual. We could sync our reading while I’m gone and talk about it on video calls.”

Another thing we’ll be doing to spend more time together that we can’t excuse as necessary for selling this fake relationship.

Sebastian takes out his copy of the book. With a big, cheesy grin, he says, “Look, we’re book-twinning. Isn’t it cute?”

With the way my heart patters in my chest, it really might be too cute.

I leap off my living room couch in excitement, leaning with pinched shoulders toward the TV screen as Sebastian skates the puck to University of Maine’s goal on a breakaway.

“Come on, come on,” I chant, locked into the action of a game that one year ago you’d have to pay me to watch.

And it’s the player I haven’t taken my eyes off since the puck drop who’s the very reason I used to so studiously ignore it.

I suck in a sharp gasp as Sebastian dekes past a defender—I can’t believe I even know that word, deke —and fires off his shot … but then I let out a disappointed groan as the puck ricochets off the frame of the net.

“Booo,” I dejectedly wheeze, plopping back onto the couch cushion I occupy next to Scarlett.

“You’re really leaning into method acting, huh, Harper? Pretending to be excited for your fake boyfriend even when no one’s watching.” Scarlett’s voice is a sarcastic tease.

I slide a guarded look at her. “What can I say? It’s an exciting game.”

She smiles as if no matter how guarded my look is, she can see right through it. “Uh-huh. And what’s your excuse for why the two of you are video chatting every night he’s away and reading a book together?”

The knowing glimmer in my best friend’s eyes has me desperate for a change of subject.

“Oh, look!” I exclaim, pointing at the TV. “Veikko just stole the puck!”

Scarlett flattens her lips at me. “Nice distraction.” She sighs dramatically, turning back to the TV. “Fine, just keep your best friend out of the loop about what’s really going on between you two,” she says sarcastically.

A twinge of guilt turns in my chest. But how can I keep my friends in the loop about how I’m really feeling toward Sebastian, when I can’t even answer that question myself?