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)
Sure enough, Jon, a paparazzi friend of mine, is here, snapping photos of us as we wander through the lot. I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye, his camera clicking away as he captures what is supposed to look like a private, candid moment between Noelle and me. It’s all part of the plan, of course—something her father orchestrated to help keep up appearances.
But as I stand here, watching Noelle in her element, it’s hard to remember that this is all just for show. There’s something about her, something genuine and pure, that makes it feel real, at least to me. And maybe that’s the problem—I’m not sure where the act ends and my real feelings begin.
“Oh wow,” Noelle exclaims, her voice bubbling with excitement as she stops in front of a tree that seems to have caught her eye. “This is the one.” Her enthusiasm is infectious, lighting up her face as she gazes at the tree with a mix of wonder and certainty.
I step closer, drawn to her energy, and take a moment to admire the tree she’s deemed the perfect one. It’s full and lush, its branches strong and evenly spaced, just like you’d picture in a Christmas postcard. But if I’m honest, I’m not really paying much attention to the tree itself. My focus is entirely on her—on the way her eyes shine with delight, the way her breath puffs out in small clouds of mist in the cold air.
Without thinking, I snake an arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer. I feel her stiffen slightly beside me, the sudden contact catching her off guard. “It’s perfect,” I murmur, though I’m not really sure if the tree is perfect or not. Trees have never been my thing, but the feeling of her warmth beside me, the way she fits so neatly into the curve of my arm—that’s what feels perfect.
She hesitates for a moment, but then I feel her relax, molding herself against my body. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s enough to make my heart skip a beat. I squeeze her a little tighter, savoring the way she feels in my arms. For a brief second, the world outside this little Christmas tree lot fades away, and it’s just us, wrapped up in the moment.
The tree might be beautiful, but right now, it’s Noelle who holds all my attention. Being this close to her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath against my side, makes me wish this moment could last forever—fake relationship or not.
Our eyes collide as Noelle tilts her head up to look at me, her gaze meeting mine with an intensity that sends a jolt of electricity through me. In that moment, everything else falls away—the noise of the Christmas tree lot, the clicking of the cameras, even the cold air seems to disappear. All I can think about is how much I want to kiss her.
The cameras continue to click away, a steady rhythm that reminds me of the role we’re playing, but right now, their presence feels distant, almost secondary. My focus narrows to Noelle, to the way her lips part slightly as if she’s expecting or willing this to happen.
I lean in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wants to, but she doesn’t move. Her eyes flutter shut, her lashes resting softly against her cheeks. As I close the distance between us, my heart pounds louder with each breath.
When our lips finally meet, it’s like a spark igniting that feels both thrilling and comforting. Her lips are plump and supple, and as I kiss her, I feel a rush of something powerful and real. It’s a gentle kiss at first, exploratory and tentative, but as she responds, her lips moving against mine, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent.
The cold of the winter air contrasts sharply with the heat of the moment, but the feeling of her pressed against me, the way she fits so perfectly in my arms, makes me forget the chill. The cameras keep clicking, but right now, I’m lost in the sensation of kissing her, in the way her fingers brush lightly against my neck as if she’s grounding herself in this shared intimacy.
When we finally pull back, breathless and slightly dazed, I look into her eyes again. There’s a flicker of something—surprise, maybe, or even a hint of vulnerability. For a moment, we’re just two people caught in a moment that feels undeniably real, despite the deceit of our staged relationship. The world around us fades back into focus, but the connection between us remains, lingering in the shared silence.
What the hell is happening?
This is the coach’s daughter. She’s off-limits, forbidden. It’s a rule I need to keep firmly in mind. The reality of our situation—the boundaries and expectations—comes crashing back into focus, even as I stand here, heart still racing from the kiss.