Page 186 of Tangled Like Us

“Say again?” He can’t hear me through the wood.

“You can come in!” Sulli calls out to him.

He cracks the door. Catching sight of my green face, he opens it wider. He steps in, and then spots Luna in her underwear—swiftly, he rotates. “Sorry.” His eyes are on me, back to her. “I thought everyone was decent.”

“We are very decent,” Luna says. “I’m basically in a bikini. Plus…I’m posting it on Instagram anyway.” I watch as she holds up the phone and snaps a picture. “Sulli.” She hands the phone to her so she can help take a wide shot.

I don’t want to be in the room when her dad sees that photo online.

He might have a stroke.

Hopefully Aunt Lily is with him. She always knows what to say to calm Uncle Lo.

I focus on Thatcher and his earlier question. “I like both,” I say. “Can you tell your mom that whatever she wants is perfect? I, um…” My tongue is caught because he’s staring at me more intensely. “…you.”

I shut my mouth, inhaling a deeper breath.

Thatcher nods and eyes my facemask, not looking below my neck. He casts a furtive glance at my cousins.

They can’t know we’re intimate.

Yet, how much time do we even have left?

“Heyhey, Thatcher,” Luna says. “You should stay.”

“Yeah,” Sulli agrees. “Why don’t you join the facemask party?

Luna nods. “Yeah yeah, Insta Live it for the fake dating thing.”

He can’t see my cousins. But they are both grinning like they’ve discovered fairy dust and fountains of eternal youth. Between this and the Seasons name, I’m beginning to think Sul and Luna are like two impish pixies.

I’m all here for it. Sitting straighter, a smile tugging my cheeks. Seeing Thatcher in a green facemask is something I didn’t know I needed until right now.

“Do you want to?” I ask Thatcher.

He stares at me and nods. But he still adds, “If you think it’ll help with the fake dating op.” It’s a cursory statement. Like he knows he has to say it in front of my cousins. I do believe he’d want to do this with me regardless of the fake dating ruse.

Like drinking whiskey in the garage.

“It should help.” I grab the bottle of facemask, and Thatcher sits down on an alien beanbag.

“I’ll film,” Luna says, using her phone and Instagram account since mine is still deactivated.

I straddle Thatcher’s lap. It’s easiest instead of bending down. His hands fall to my hips, easy and comfortable. Yet tension winds between us. Like we’re both caging our breaths.

There are two factors at play.

One: our Instagram viewers think this is real.

Two: Sulli and Luna think this is all fake.

I know this is real. Every touch has been real since we had sex at the B&B. I’m certain of that. But as we get closer and closer to Halloween, the end is near. I wish I could just…push it out of my mind.

But it’s there.

Present. Like the worst kind of ticking clock.

Silence blankets the room as I rub Thatcher’s skin with a cleansing cloth. This could be the last time I touch him…