Page 16 of Mr. Brightside

He nods slowly, processing. “You won’t have to. I’m not suggesting we do this on the down low. Hell, it needs to look convincing and be legit. We’ll have to tell all our family and friends.”

“So are you proposing a marriage of convenienceanda real relationship, Jake Whitely?”

My words hit as intended.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t get crazy on me. Relationship virgin over here, remember? What if we start things casual… maybe call it a marriage with benefits?”

I set out here tonight looking for casual. But casual and marriage don’t exactly go hand-and-hand in my mind. I love love. I respect the shit out of marriage. I’m so damn grateful to be alive in a day and age where I can marry whoever I want.

Even if what we’re doing isn’t real, I’m not okay pretending marriage isn’t a big deal to me.

Jake continues his crusade while I’m still gathering my thoughts. He does that a lot: doubles down to drive a point home before I’ve even come up with a rebuttal. He’s a fast thinker and a smooth talker. Just two more reasons I always feel off kilter around him.

“If you’re my husband, and we’re living together…” He pauses and regards me suggestively.

My cheeks flush with desire, even as I’m still trying to gather my thoughts. My body obviously hasn’t caught up to the revelations of the last several minutes.

He bites down on his lip, cocks his head slightly, and does this little half smile that puts that damn dimple on full display.

I’m grateful to still be seated. The guy smirks and I’m half hard. Since I’m feeling vulnerable to his onslaught of flirtation, I steel my spine and rely on sass as a defense mechanism.

“So you expect me to marry you, move in here, sleep with you, and still call it casual?”

Instead of replying, he’s on the prowl. I watch intently as he closes the space between us. He moves slowly, giving me time to track his motions and pull back if I’m uncomfortable.

But I’m not going anywhere. I want this. I want him.

He hits me with the most delicious smirk before gripping the back of my head, bowing low, and whispering in my ear. “You already know we’re good together, Cor. No, not just good. Mind-blowing, if memory serves me right.”

Goosebumps erupt on the nape of my neck and travel all the way down my thighs.

“But it’s your choice. If you don’t want to have sex with me…”

His breath is hot on my skin: his words kerosene that catch immediately and send me up in flames.

“Marry me, Cory. Please. I would be so good to you.”

I almost say yes right then and there. His hand cupping the back of my head reminds me just how electric it is when we come together. His breath warm against my skin is equal parts soothing and stimulating.

I’m so close to saying yes. But I owe it to myself to put words to my greatest fear.

“If we do this… you have to be faithful to me.”

He stills, then pulls back. His movements are slow and calculated. When he looks into my eyes, it’s like he’s searching for something. There’s a tinge of hostility in the air that wasn’t there a moment ago. He almost looks… insulted? I take a move out of his playbook and double down before he can respond.

“I know it’s not forever, but if you expect me to tell people I’m married to one of Hampton’s most notorious playboys, then I expect you to be faithful.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Understood.”

That’s it? Now that I’ve spoken the fear out loud, I desperately need him to understand how important this is to me. “I’m serious, Jake.”

He shakes his head and lets out a huff of agitation. “So am I, Cory. I wouldn’t try to convince you to do this with me, then turn around and embarrass you like that. What kind of person do you think I am? If you’re my husband, then it’s only you.”

He looks legitimately angry now. But there’s still something about his promise of commitment that doesn’t feel right. I believe him. But I also question whether someone can just turn things around and change their behavior that quickly. Rather than push back and challenge him on it, I decide to move forward.

“Okay. So you want to get married. I have to move in here, and we have to stay married for two years. You’ll pay for my tuition—”

“And whatever else you want,” he interrupts.