Page 75 of The Fake Script
“Who are you betting on?” I ask Mari and Beth, who are huddled next to me.
“Mmm. I’m not sure,” Beth says.
“Aaron,” Mari declares with no hesitation. “He’s good at this. Just look at his self-control.”
“Probably. He’s the most muscular one of the bunch too. Or would that be Noah?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at the Raptors’ goalie.
“It’s Aaron. One hundred percent.” She nods firmly. “Trust me, I’ve seen him in a swimsuit.”
A split second later, she turns tomato-red, and I struggle to repress a chuckle. She’s definitely given this a lot of thought, which I guess makes sense, since she’s the coach’s daughter and a big hockey fan.
She lifts her strawberry blonde locks, fanning herself, and Aaron drops at the same time.
“Ooh. Looks like Miles got distracted,” James quips, grinning, still focused on his game.
Aaron whispers something in his ear as he walks off, and James immediately drops his books on the floor, cursing at Aaron.
He casts us an exasperated glance, shaking his head.
Maxime is out next, resulting in a duel between Noah Wilcott and Caleb Hawthorne. The sidelines are not as quiet anymore. Everyone picks a side—I choose Noah because he’s the silent, grumpy type, and we tend to stick together. I’m pretty sure that’s why Deacon picked him too. Meanwhile, Hayley and Alice have firmly declared themselves Team Caleb because he’s the one who built Mr. Darcy’s sleeping nook in our bookstore.
Just when we think they’re going to walk another lap with a fifth book, Caleb loses his balance right before the finish line, making Noah the book-balancing champion—or rather, king, since Auston has a crown made of book pages that he places on his head.
As everyone disperses from the game area, Maxime passes by me carrying at least five different KitKat flavors. Suddenly starving, I zoom to the table. It’s a difficult choice, but I go with dark chocolate first. I remove the wrapper, and just when I’m about to eat it, a hand presses on the small of my back.
“What, you’re not even going to share?”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenlytoo dry to eat anything. Swinging to face Auston, I plaster a big smile on my face. “It is my birthday. I think I can be a little selfish.”
He shakes his head. “And here I thought that going to all this trouble would at least earn me some KitKat points.”
I laugh. “Fine, you get a few extra points. But you can have your own KitKat. There’s plenty.”
“Oh, but eating it alone isn’t nearly as sweet.”
Who cares about a candy bar? Right now, I want to throw it over my shoulder and jump into this man’s arms.
Instead, I offer him the KitKat bar, which has now started to melt on my fingers. He breaks it in slow motion—yes, slow motion. Just roll with it. You know those commercials where the bar takes forever to break, and the sound is amplified? That’s exactly what’s happening now. Auston offers me half, then places his half into his mouth, chewing—in slow motion—as the flavors are undoubtedly exploding in his mouth. Then, he licks off the chocolate that melted onto his fingers, finishing me off.
Now, that’s an award-winning commercial if I ever saw one. Wait, do commercials get awards? Well, this one should.
He cocks his head, frowning, and I realize I haven’t eaten my KitKat yet. I shove the bar in my mouth all at once, and I’m now struggling to chew it.This is not commercial material at all.
He chuckles. “Did you like it?”
I nod eagerly. “Loved it. I still think I prefer the original, but it comes close.”
His eyes smolder, holding me hostage. “Agreed. But we’ll have to sample them all, just to make sure.”
I bite my lip. “Goes without saying.”
30
Desperate
Auston
I’ve never seen so many smiles from Emma—maybe back in high school, but definitely not since we reconnected—and I love being at least partially responsible for that joy. It won’t make up for the pain I inflicted in the past, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.