Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Noelle’s smile is radiant, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and satisfaction. “We should get the tree,” she says, her voice bright and hopeful. It’s as if she’s just made a delightful discovery, and her enthusiasm is infectious.
I nod, trying to snap back to reality, to ground myself in the knowledge that this moment, this connection we’ve shared, is temporary and bounded by the constraints of our fake relationship. There’s no reality where Noelle and I end up together, no future beyond this charade. That’s a fact I need to come to terms with.
As we walk back toward the tree she’s chosen, the weight of that knowledge settles heavily on my shoulders. I can’t let myself get carried away by these fleeting moments of intimacy. The cameras clicking in the background, the role we’re playing—they’re a constant reminder that this is all just for show.
I watch Noelle as she beams at the tree, her joy so genuine that it makes me ache even more. I’m caught between the desire to savor these moments with her and the harsh reality that this is as far as it goes. The lines are drawn, and I need to keep reminding myself of the boundaries, no matter how tempting it is to cross them.
Chapter 7
Noelle
I can’t believe that really just happened. The entire car ride home is a blur, my mind replaying the moment over and over again, like a favorite song on repeat. York’s lips crashing against mine—it's a sensation that keeps echoing in my thoughts, vivid and unforgettable.
I remember the way his touch felt, warm and urgent, pressing against me with a force that seemed to pull me into a world where everything else faded away. The feel of our breaths coming together as one, the mingling of our exhalations in the crisp winter air, was intoxicating. Each time I close my eyes, I can almost feel the soft brush of his lips, the electricity that sparked between us.
The magic of it all still lingers, like a fairy-tale moment that’s too perfect to be real. It’s strange how a single kiss can shift everything, changing the way I see the world and my place in it. York’s touch, the intensity of his gaze, and the way he held me close—it felt so genuine, so far beyond the facade of our staged relationship.
As the car moves along the snowy streets, the gentle hum of the engine is a soothing backdrop to the whirlwind of emotions inside me. My heart is still racing, caught between exhilaration and a tinge of uncertainty. I keep wondering if this feeling will last, or if it will fade as quickly as it came. But for now, all I can think about is the kiss and how, despite everything, it felt so real and so right.
I want it to happen again. Desperately. The taste of York’s kiss lingers on my lips, and the sensation of his touch haunts me, making me yearn for another moment like it. But as soon as we pull into the driveway of my parents’ house, reality sets in. There’s no time to dwell on what just happened. Instead, we dive into the hustle and bustle of hauling the tree inside and getting it decorated, the festive chaos demanding all of our attention.
The warmth of the house greets us as we enter, and the rich, comforting aroma of hot cocoa wafts from the kitchen. My mother has already prepared a pot, and soon we’re gathered around the newly decorated tree, our fingers sticky with pine sap and glitter. The tree sparkles with an array of ornaments and twinkling lights. As we sit back to admire our handiwork, the sight of it brings a smile to my face.
My father is sprawled on the couch, engrossed in his phone. His expression is one of satisfaction as he scrolls through the latest tabloids. “You two look like you’re really in love,” he says, his voice full of pride and amusement. His eyes twinkle as he looks up at us, clearly delighted with how the media is portraying our staged relationship.
York chuckles and glances at me, a teasing glint in his eye. “Your daughter’s quite the actress,” he says, and I can feel my cheeks flush with a deep pink hue. The compliment is playful, but it sends a flutter of heat through me, and I can’t help but blush.
As we sip our hot cocoa, I steal glances at York, my mind still swirling with thoughts of that kiss. It’s hard to reconcile the intense feelings I have with the reality of our situation, but for now, I focus on the comforting familiarity of my family and the festive cheer surrounding us.
“What’s next on the agenda?” my mother asks, her eyes bright with anticipation as she looks around the room. The festive atmosphere is still buzzing from the excitement of decorating the tree and enjoying hot cocoa.