Nora Bailey is a mess - in the best way. As a theatre major, she's dramatic, impulsive, and maybe a little too romantic for her own good. So, when she catches her boyfriend cheating, her first instinct? Kiss the first person she sees.
Now, thanks to some bad decisions and even worse timing, she's fake dating Wes Mackenzie - the guy who's been annoying her since birth - to save face. Wes has spent his whole life running - from expectations, from his problems, and from his feelings. But when his football-coach dad demands he clean up his act on and off the field, he knows exactly who can help: Nora.
For Nora, playing the role of doting girlfriend is easy. The only problem? Wes isn't acting. And the longer they fake it, the harder it is to ignore the very real, very inconvenient romantic feelings between them. Because when the final curtain falls, neither of them will be able to pretend anymore...
Your newest college romance obsession. Perfect for fans of Bal Khabra, Hannah Grace and Elle Kennedy.
Readers love Our Secret Game:
'This is a story about a love that grew over time and teaches us that it's okay to change paths; we just have to find the right person to do it with us.♡ ' Reader Review ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
'Okay, do not read this book if you don't want to be constantly swooning over Wesley Mackenzie *insert heart eyes emoji*. 10/10 would recommend!' Reader Review ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
'I absolutely LOVED the banter between Wes and Nora...honestly love Wes so much. I wish he was my boyfriend. Thank you, Janisha, for giving us an out of norm book boyfriend' Reader Review ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
'This is a must read and if you love a good spicy romance with some fake dating and childhood best friends with a unique MMC' Reader Review ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Tropes: -One bed -Found family -He falls first -Football player x theatre major -Friends to lovers
Release date:
May 5, 2025
Publisher:
Little, Brown Book Group
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Those are not exactly the words you want to hear after kissing someone for the first time.
I press my fingers to my lips, keeping one hand curled in his hair.
“No way, what?” My words are a breathy whisper into the space between us.
The party is loud but not loud enough to hide the sound of his heavy breathing. Our heartbeats are like one, and our chests press flush against each other. His hand is still wrapped in my hair from that passionate kiss, and his other hand is around my waist. I can feel his hands all over my body, and I can’t get that feeling to stop—that confusing feeling of wanting but still needing to pull away.
“How do I say this?” he mutters, detangling his hand from my hair. He stares at his shoes before meeting my eyes. “Me and you, Nor? It’s not going to happen. I know I’ve joked around about it, but you and Ryan are–”
Does he really think I wanted to kiss him for real?
I lean away from him, but he keeps his hands around my waist, desperate to keep us close. “Oh my god, Wes. I don’t want to date you.”
“Y– You don’t?”
“No.”
His eyebrows furrow, his gray eyes squinting. He just stands and blinks at me. He usually has a lot of shit to say, but for once, he’s silent.
I sigh and pull myself out of his grip.
I need to get out of here and fast. It’s one thing being up at the asscrack of dawn to organize a birthday party for your boyfriend’s twentieth, but it’s another thing to witness him fucking some girl at said party. It’s a whole other thing to kiss your best friend to make him jealous, just for your now exboyfriend to not give a shit.
I can feel and hear Wes trailing behind me like a lost puppy. As we get to a stop in the crowd, the music blaring in my ears, his huge hand rests on my waist. Leaning into me, he whispers, “Then what was that about?”
“That was me trying to gain some sort of control in my life,” I groan. I turn to him, but what I’m saying clearly doesn’t register on his face. I roll my eyes, hating that I have to say these words aloud. “Ryan cheated on me. He’s been cheating on me, apparently.”
His hand on my waist stills like he’s lost consciousness for a second. I blink at him, willing him to say something. He just lets out an agitated breath as he maneuvers us nearer to the crowded kitchen. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” His voice is low and thick, heavy with a kind of seriousness I never would have expected from my best friend. “I’ve always hated him.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter.
My brother and all of my friends have never been fond of Ryan Valla. We’ve been dating since high school, and I was convinced that he was the man I would marry. Since he asked me out with a bouquet of flowers and a CD with all my favorite musical songs, I knew he was the one for me.
Correction: I thought he was the one for me.
We spent every minute of every day together during high school, and then we both got into the performing arts program at Drayton. We knew we were destined to be together. It felt like the world had done us a favor, pushing us closer together until I had pathetic dreams of us co-starring in a lead rom-com one day.
As much as he did things to annoy me – like chewing really loud or talking during a movie – I just thought it was what boys do. I’ve never had a boyfriend before him, and he made having one seem like the best thing in the world.
Until he didn’t.
“Wanna key his car?”
Wes is the kind of person to say the stupidest things in the most serious way. It usually takes me a whole minute of just staring at him to figure out if he’s joking or not. Most times, he’s not joking, and he really is just an insanely funny and stupid person.
“What?” I gawk, rubbing at my temples. I’ve had too much to drink, and I desperately want to go home to the comfort of my own bed. And maybe throw in some ice cream, too. Classic sad snack.
“It’s the puke-colored truck out front, isn’t it?” Wes asks, pulling out the keys to his car and swinging them around his finger. He’s so casual about it, I almost believe he’s being serious. The motion distracts me from his idiocy for a second before I shake my head, trying to regain control of the situation.
“Wes, we’re not going to key his car. Do you know how much trouble we’d get into?”
He shrugs, brushing past me. “Fine. Then I’ll do it.”
This time, I’m the one trailing behind him, trying to catch up with him before he does something stupid and gets us both arrested. The party has had a decent turnout – not that it’s to my benefit now, and I almost lose Wes in the crowd before he gets through the front door.
The chill hits me when I finally catch up with him. I pull his arm, urging him to turn around to me. “Wesley, I’m not letting you key his car. Do you want to get in trouble?”
He smirks. “I thought that was your middle name, not mine.” He leans down, his broad chest obstructing my view. “It was you who got caught having sex in the janitor's closet last month, wasn’t it? Or am I mistaken?”
My whole body tenses at the thought of the shit I used to get up to with Ryan. I was a complete fool for him. Anything he’d ask me to do, I’d do it. He’d tell me to jump, and I’d leap. Every time he’d apologize on his knees with his face between my legs, I’d forgive him. He made me feel wanted, and I was broken enough to settle for what he gave me.
I push at Wes’s chest, crossing my arms against my own as he looks down at me with challenge in his eyes. If this guy weren’t completely attached to my hip at all times, he would have gone off the rails by now.
I say his name like it’s a bad word, with pure and utter disbelief that this is the idiot I chose to be my best friend. “Wes.”
“Nora,” he purrs. I don’t give him the satisfaction of letting him think he won this fight, and I stand my ground. He groans, throwing his head back. “Fine. I’m not going to key it, but he will pay for what he did to you.”
I shake my head. “No. He’s not worth it.”
“Oh, now you realize that,” he mocks. I don’t even have the energy to glare at him. He shakes his head, swallowing as he shoves his keys into his pocket. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Go home, cry, and sleep,” I admit. There’s nothing more comforting than those three things right now. I don’t even want to face my roommates tonight. I just want to put on the saddest songs from the Les Mis soundtrack and forget tonight ever happened.
“Can I come?” he asks.
“So you can watch me cry? No thanks,” I say through a laugh. He blinks at me, his fists closing and opening at his sides like he’s debating what he should do or say. I’m not going to stand here and watch his internal overprotective-dude-man struggle.
Before I can say bye and finally get on my way, I turn back to the house to see Ryan running through the door, his shirt a mess, and his jeans unbuttoned. He couldn’t even have the decency to look like he hadn’t just had sex with someone who wasn’t his girlfriend.
“Wait! Nora, please listen to me,” he shouts. “I still–”
Fuck it.
I lean up on my tiptoes, curl my hand in Wes’s shirt, and press my mouth to my best friend’s lips for the second time tonight.
YOU’D THINK that six months after being broken up with would mean you’re feeling on top of the world, but it doesn’t. In fact, it feels like the exact opposite. Instead of sunshine and rainbows, I feel like the dark nothingness at the bottom of a trash bag.
Uninteresting, smelly, and not something you want to spend your time around.
I’ve been pacing the living room of my dorm for the last…. I actually don’t know how long. All I know is I’ve gotten to the point where my legs aren’t moving because I’m telling them to, but out of the fact that I’ve been doing it so long, it feels like second nature.
Just back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and fucking forth.
My two roommates are sitting on the couch, watching me pace as I go through every stage of grief for what is probably the third time this month alone. I’ve completely skipped having second thoughts about my life choices and gone straight to third.
“You know what? I don’t even care,” I mutter angrily, still pacing. I’m starting to get hungry. Maybe I should sit down and face my feelings with some food and lots of it. I scoff to myself at my own thoughts. That sounds like a healthy coping mechanism.
“You do care, Nor-Nor, and that’s okay.”
Do you ever wish your friends weren’t so perfect and sweet all the goddamn time? Especially ones like Eleanor Harper, ballet dancer and absolute sunshine incarnate. She can be sneaky and dirty-minded when she wants to be, but in times like these, she’s an absolute angel who says things to me in that lovely, innocent voice of hers, making me want to curl up into her lap and let her continue talking me out of my mind.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice bright as I continue walking back and forth.
I’d be dizzy if I hadn’t spent my entire life on a stage or trying to get on one, doing these sorts of acting drills for hours. Not getting dizzy is my superpower. Unfortunately for my friends, I’m probably making them sick by doing this.
My parents have had enough of me turning up at home unannounced as I recount the last six months of my life to them. My mom is usually the best at giving advice, but this is the one thing she can’t cure with her sweet words and never-ending list of fun activities to get me out of my slump. She lucked out in the boyfriend department and got together with my dad in high school, and now she’s stuck with him. Despite her surprise pregnancy with me and my twin brother, Connor, I’ve never seen two people more in love with each other.
“I would still be pissed if I were you,” Cat says, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch. If we had to be ranked from least to most unhinged, Cat would be somewhere at the bottom. Since we were kids, she’s had this wiser, calming presence around her that makes me feel like I’m floating on a cloud. Her words are frustratingly soft sometimes, but she’s also one of the most stubborn people I know. She’s also one of the kindest people I know. Kind enough to have gone out of her way last year to help my brother when he was having some anxiety talking to reporters and now he’s been trailing behind her for months.
“Seriously?” Elle gawks. “It’s been six months, and you’d still be pissed? Wouldn’t your anger be channeled into something else by this point? Something healthy.”
“I can be pissed and channel it in different ways,” I say to them, finally coming to a stop. I sit on the stack of romance novels on the coffee table, facing them. A deep red dances along her cheeks and stains Elle’s brown skin. “This is healthy, Elle-Belle, trust me.”
“How?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively. Cat mirrors her expression, trapping her braids under her arms. It’s like having parents for best friends: a blessing and a curse.
“By imagining all the things that Daisy doesn’t know about him yet. Like how he cries a lot of the time after sex, how he believed in Santa until he was fourteen, how he sings Oklahoma when he’s sad.” I list all the things on my fingers.
Really, I could keep going.
Sometimes, you’re so blinded by love that you don’t realize the number of things that you were so used to seeing that they became normal. Like how Ryan often forgot when we had a date planned and told me he was too tired to go. Like how I’d go to his dorm afterward and he’d be passed out drunk in his bed. And how I’d forgive him. Every. Single. Time.
You give yourself so much to someone just for them to find someone better and not need you anymore. You’re so caught up in it that everyone else around you can see it before you can. You end up making excuses for people who don’t deserve them.
But not anymore.
“Jesus.” Cat shivers at the images I just painted of Ryan.
“Yeah. Imagine her surprise when she finds out he has a micro-penis,” I mutter, shrugging innocently. Both of their eyes go wide, and Elle almost falls off her seat.
“What? Does he really?” Elle squeals, unable to stop herself from laughing as a very unladylike laugh bubbles over.
“Oh, you poor girl,” Cat murmurs, shaking her head. “I understand the disappointment. Well… I don’t, personally… Because my boyfriend’s penis is… You know what I mean… I’m just going to stop talking.”
I wave my hand in her face. “Okay, okay. I get it. I don’t want to talk about what size my brother’s man parts are,” I shout, covering my ears. They’ve been dating for almost a year now, and I’m still not used to the fact that my twin brother and my best friend are madly in love. “But Ryan doesn’t have a micro-penis. I wish he did. It would make this whole thing a lot easier. He actually has a very normal-sized penis.”
They both pout at me, a look I’ve come accustomed to seeing on their faces. Since the breakup, Ryan has moved on to three different women. Now, he’s dating a gorgeous blonde in our acting class, Daisy. She and I were friends in freshman year, but the second her agent dropped her, and I got signed to an acting agency, she’s been bitter. She’s always got this insanely passive look on her face like the world doesn’t bother her, and she freaks me the fuck out. I didn’t ask to be born this talented. Besides, I’ve been scouring the media with my parents to get an agent, and I was able to take the opportunity I worked for.
While Ryan has been having the time of his life with multiple women, I’ve just been… here. My sadness took hold of me, and I managed to get fired from working at the bookstore, which became my second home. I’ve had little motivation to do anything other than attend class and browse LinkedIn for a job for when winter rolls around. Ryan’s managed to make my life look like shit because his own is apparently so great.
I’ve been to parties more than I have been in my bed. Yet every time I try to make a move on someone, it ends up being embarrassing for both of us.
I don’t know how to get my groove back. I thought kissing my best friend would make Ryan jealous, but he didn’t even flinch. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get myself out of this funk and back to being the star I once was–on and off stage.
I tilt my head up to the ceiling, trying my hardest not to break down. I’m stronger than this. Way stronger than this. It’s been too long to still be moping. I should have pulled myself together by now.
“This just sucks, you know?” I whisper, finally looking back at them. “I’ll never know what I did wrong for him to stop loving me. That’s what hurts the most. Because then… Maybe I could have fixed it.”
Elle sighs, reaching out to rest her hand on my knee, steadying it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Nor. He’s just a dick.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I sniffle.
I know this is one of those moments where you’re supposed to listen to your friends, but what they’re saying doesn’t make sense to me. The truth of it is so simple. It’s so clear it’s practically blinding, weaving its way behind my eyelids every time I close my eyes or look in the mirror. If he had loved me enough, he would have stayed. He wouldn’t have found anyone better, and I would have been enough for him. But I wasn’t.
Cat stands up, suddenly full of energy. “Come on. Let’s cheer you up. Shots at The Dragon. My treat. I got paid this morning, and I’m ready to sugar mama you both.” She reaches out her hands and pulls me up from the table.
“Ooo, look at you, Little Miss I Have A Job Now,” Elle coos, now standing beside us. She brushes her long, curly hair behind her, wrapping her slender arms around Cat’s shoulders.
“I know! I’m loving it,” Cat replies. She’s been out of a job for years. She’s never really needed the money, and I think the whole ordeal made her too anxious. But since Cat’s summer internship at a local sports magazine went really well, she was able to stay on part-time writing a piece about the school. “Now I get to treat my girls.”
Elle squeals, and she pulls us into a hug.
Maybe I just need one more night out. One more night of forgetting before I have to face Ryan on campus and in classes for another semester. With the smile on my best friend’s faces, it's hard to say no to them, anyway.
“NO.”
There’s nothing I hate more than being told no. Not because I don’t like to listen – okay, I don’t love listening, but who does — but because it sounds insanely mean no matter how nicely you try to say it. I’m constantly suggesting incredible ideas just to be shut down.
Wanna go for a drive and smoke? No.
Do you like Frank Ocean? No.
Do you also constantly battle with the fear of not being good enough? No.
Shit like that pisses me off. Not only do I feel incredibly out of place and downright insane, but it’s hard to feel like anyone gets me the way I get other people. I spend so much time trying to make other people happy, trying to understand people better than I understand myself, that answers like that make me question my taste in friends.
As my best friend and housemate looks at me with that annoying as fuck glare in his eyes, that word is the last thing I want to hear right now.
I sigh. “Okay, at least hear me out.”
“Nope. Not listening.” Connor shakes his head as if he can make me disappear. And everyone says I’m the dramatic one. Yeah, right. “I don’t want a new roommate already, Wes. We just moved in.”
“Okay, first of all, we’ve been living here for over two months. And second of all, nobody asked how I felt when Catherine started sleeping over here nearly every night.”
Since Connor started dating Nora’s best friend, they’ve been all over each other. Of course, I’ve known from the beginning when they were sneaking around. I’ve seen how my best friend looks at girls, but there’s only one look he reserves just for Catherine.
It was cute as much as it was painful to watch. They finally came clean and told his sister six months ago. Since we moved out of our dorms into a new house off campus, Cat has spent more time here baking in the kitchen with Connor like an old married couple than I’ve spent here.
“She’s my girlfriend. Not an animal,” Connor says, continuing to clean up his mess on the kitchen island. It’s like living with an experimental toddler. All he does is bake things that taste bad and force-feed them to me and our other housemate, Archer.
Jarvis purrs in my arms, snuggling his chubby and fuzzy face into my shirt. I pretend to cover his ears with my free hand, holding him closer to me as I rock us back and forth. “It’s okay, baby. He didn’t mean it.”
Connor rolls his eyes at us. “You and that stupid cat can sleep outside for all I care. I don’t want him here.”
I wish Jarvis could growl because I would have trained him to growl every time Connor says something mean to me, which is often. “Don’t call him stupid! It’s not his fault he’s visually impaired.”
It is kinda his fault.
No matter how many times we tried to cat-proof our house growing up, this fucker managed to play with the spring next to the door a little too hard that it ended up poking him right in the eyeball. He irritated it so much that he lost sight in his right eye. Now, he walks a little lopsided.
“Wesley, you’re not keeping a cat here,” Connor says again. It’s embarrassing for all of us that he thinks I’ll listen. I’ve known him my entire life. You’d think he knows me better than that by now. With a chuckle, he adds, “You can barely look after yourself.”
“You’re not the boss of me or this house. We all pay rent,” I argue. Connor acts like he’s my dad half of the time and the dad of the football team the other time. He cares so much about football and all of us that it’s sickening. He’s constantly trying to involve me in all of his mushy feelings and tells me how much he appreciates me and all that shit.
“Fine,” he sighs, pressing his hands on the island. He grimaces as Jarvis yawns in my arm, showcasing his sharp teeth. “Then ask Archer how he feels about that moving in.”
“Fine, I will.” I turn on my heels, adjusting the heavy cat in my arms. “Where is that sexy bag of bones?”
One of the many perks about moving into a house off campus is that there are way fewer rules than being in a dorm, and there’s also a ton of space.
We were lucky enough to get one of the bigger houses on Fire Ridge Row. We have three bedrooms and en suites, a kitchen, dining room and living area. It’s much better than living in a stuffy dorm with these two fools. Now I can live in a spacious house with these two fools.
And the best part? A huge backyard to do whatever the fuck we want, including – but not limited to – parties, a very easy game of hide and seek, and a perfect place to host an outdoor movie night. There are large trees on both sides of the backyard, one of them close to the bathroom window that blocks out most of the sun. It also connects to a hammock against the opposite tree. It was perfect during those last few weeks of summer sun.
And, of course, Archer Elliot puts all men to shame as he stands outside on the cusp of winter in nothing but denim jeans and a backward cap as he chops wood.
Who does this man think he is?
I shake my head, stalking closer to him as Jarvis flinches in my arms at the harsh sounds of the axe hitting the wood. “Hey, Archie Boy.”
He doesn’t even turn around as he grumbles, “Don’t call me that.”
I let out a low whistle and get straight to the point. “How do you feel about getting a cat?”
The axe drops on the wood as he turns around, twisting around his hat as it shields him from the September sun. His eyes narrow. “What do you mean? Seems like you’ve already got one.”
“Yes, I am very glad you have eyes, Archer.”
He ignores my comment. “Is this Jarvis?”
“You remembered his name,” I coo. Archer is a grump. Way grumpier than any twenty-year-old should be. There’s no way he spends his free time thinking about or trying to remember my cat’s name.
“Only because you don’t shut up about the abuse he experiences at your mom’s new place,” he says, trying not to laugh as he eyes the cat suspiciously.
I wouldn’t say abuse. Slightly neglected, sure.
Since my mom officially moved out a few weeks ago, the divorce with my dad has hit her like a truck. She’s barely looking after herself, never mind a cat. Which means I usually have to go over there every few days and make sure she and Jarvis have eaten. The least I can do is take him off her hands for a while. Besides, I’ve missed my little partner in crime.
My dad couldn’t care less. This is my third year at Drayton Hills with my dad coaching the football time I’m on, and he’s been on my ass. I can’t tell if he’s doing that to distract me from his own guilt or because he might actually care about me. I don’t know what makes him think I have to listen to him when he’s been cheating on my mom for years.
Fuck that.
“As long as he stays out of my room, I don’t care,” Archer says, turning back around to do whatever the hell he’s doing.
I rub the top of Jarvis’s head in the spot he likes and he meows quietly. “You hear that, buddy? You’re moving in! I promise they’ll warm up to you soon,” I coo, walking back into the house. Connor is exactly where I left him, still cleaning up after himself. I can’t help the smile that forms across my face as Connor’s face falls. “It’s two against one, I’m afraid.”
He groans. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t let him wreck any of my stuff.”
“What stuff do you even have to wreck?” I ask, genuinely confused about how empty this house is. He lobs a silicone spoon at me, but I dodge it, watching it fly past my face. I kneel down and drop Jarvis on the floor, allowing him to wander around his new home. Of course, he doesn’t wander.
He just sits there.
Right at my feet.
Not moving.
Great.
“What do you think cats do, Connor? Because all he does is eat, sleep, and shit,” I say, looking down at him as he curls up at my feet. “He’ll just follow me around until he gets bored. He’s a piece of cake, trust me.”
“He better be,” Connor mutters before picking up his phone when it lights up. He laughs a little when he types back a reply. “The girls are going out. Seems like they’re cheering Nora up. Again. You in?”
For Nora Bailey, I’ll do anything. But of course, I don’t say that to her twin brother. Instead, I settle for, “Hell yeah.”
EVERYONE SAYS they want a brother until the second they have one. Because when you have a brother, you know they’re going to annoy the living crap out of you at any chance they get. You also know they’re going to be breathing down your neck when you do something wrong or try to murder anyone who even looks at you. There is usually never any in-between for them.
Connor has always been the protective type — that much isn’t new. He’s always been a worrier for me and for his football team. Dating Cat brought him out of his shell a lot more, but he’s still getting there. Since my breakup with Ryan, he’s been extra cautious and protective over me wherever we go.
Part of that is my fault.
I’m known to sort of… disappear sometimes.
Most of the time, I don’t realize I’m doing it. I get caught up with whatever I’m doing and could end up in the next town over. More times than not, I’m in a separate building on campus, fooling around with Ryan.
Nope. I’m not going there.
No more talk about Ryan if I can help it.
I’m supposed to be having a good time. I’m supposed to be getting as shit-faced as possible to distract myself from the shit show my life has become and the looming results of the auditions for this year’s musical.
“Are you okay? Do you want some water?” Connor asks, fidgeting with the sleeve of his Drayton football hoodie. Before I can respond, Cat wraps one of her arms around his waist, her eyes wide. “How many drinks have you had?”
“She’s fine, Connie,” Cat says. If there’s one person that can make my brother relax, it’s got to be Catherine. He looks down at her and lets out a deep breath. She turns to me. “You’re good, right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. You can both stop treating me like a baby,” I mutter, sulking like… Well, like a baby. Both of their eyes zero in on me, not listening to my bullshit. I try again. “I’m fine, seriously.”
“Well, when you stop feeling ‘fine,’ let us know,” Connor says as he tugs Cat to his side.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, smiling wide. He rolls his eyes at my comment, and I bark out a laugh. “I’m going to the bathroom. Do either of you want to escort me?” They both shake their heads. “Thought not.”
I slide past them, trying to navigate around the new bar we’ve been hanging out at.
Ignoring the 2000’s sounds playing from the speakers that would usually get me hyped up, I make my way to the bathroom, shutting myself in a stall.
I’ve got this.
Flirting and talking to guys is my thing. If I can do it on stage and write about it in my screenplays, I can do it in real life.
I don’t know how Ryan is still inside my head.
No matter how hard I try to move on, something goes wrong whenever I try to talk to a guy. It’s been years since I’ve had to try to get anyone's attention, and it turns out I’m just as boring as I vowed not to be. The best way I’m going to get over this is if I can get over him emotionally and physically.
After a quick pee and a spruce-up of my makeup in the mirror, I smooth out my black dress and hope that my cowgirl look with my boots gets me in the bed of some handsome stranger tonight.
My life goes from bad to fucking unbearable when I push open the bathroom door and collide right into Ryan’s chest.
Why does he have to smell so good? He has that signature man scent – woodsy, dark, and spicy. He recently got a buzzcut, but his dark green eyes have always been the same. They’re the kind of eyes I could lose myself in.
Despite the stereotypes of what theater kids are like, he has the slight bad-boy energy about him that always drew me in. Especially now in the confines of dim lighting in the back of a bar where everything slips away for a second.
“Hey, Nor,” he says, his voice gruff and low. He steps back, steadying me with one hand on my shoulder. “How are you?”
I blink up at him, words failing me. I can’t remember the last time he touched me. The last time anyone has touched me. His tight grip on my shoulder sends electric jolts through my body, causing me to shiver despite the heat.
I need to get my body under control immediately.
I hold my head up. “I’m great.”
That’s all I can get out. No matter how attractive he is, no matter how many times we broke up and got back together, he hurt me more than anyone that I know. I shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied over him and letting him distract me from my goal.
Right now, that means getting away from him and finally conquering the irrational fear I have about moving on.
He tilts his head. “Really? You looked a bit distracted at auditions last week.”
I hate how right he is.
This year, we’re doing a f
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