Brie Sheridan has had her heart broken way too many times. Rhett Price is usually the culprit, but, this time, he might be the solution.
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Brooke 'Brie' Sheridan wouldn't necessa...
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BRIE
As if breaking down in tears in front of Rhett wasn't enough, as if doing it during the first date of our fake relationship wasn't enough, as if doing it in front of the owner of his favorite, secretive pub also wasn't enough, I'm humiliating myself even further now. After swearing up and down, after crossing my heart and sincerely hoping it would kill me, after promising everything and everyone, including myself, I wouldn't kiss Rhett Price unless the circumstances absolutely demand it, here I am.
Here I am, looking into his starry eyes, staring at his impossibly perfect face, glancing at his plump lips. Here I am, unable to stop thinking about how goddamn kissable they look.
Every capability for rational thinking was thrown out of the window the moment he enveloped me in his arms at the pub, not caring about who was watching, and the only thing that mattered to him then was me and making me feel better. To make matters worse, the window was locked when he opened up to me unprompted, showing his walls have been held up as high as mine. It's not just me who has so much to lose by having agreed to the fake dating proposal.
Whether he knows it or not, whether he wants to admit it to any of us or not, there's something there. It feels wrong of me to exploit it for personal gain because I refuse to lose to him and thought I can beat him at his own game, but there have been multiple times throughout the past month when I haven't been too sure whether we're playing or not.
This is one of those times. The conversation at the pub was another one. The brief exchange during the drive back to campus cemented my doubts.
I know he has changed. I don't know how much and in what aspects exactly..
There's a revolution in my stomach, worsened by the way his eyes darken when they look at me, and I know all this tension would easily be solved the moment either of us decides to cut short the already minuscule distance between us. If we were any other pair of people in the world—except maybe Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt, for example—it would be as simple as getting it over with and kissing.
People kiss each other all the time. It doesn't have to be a big deal. It doesn't have to mean anything; Rhett himself has casual hookups all the time, and it wouldn't be a novelty for him. We'd probably regret it in the morning, or maybe we wouldn't, if I choose to be stupid enough to follow him up to his room and spend the night.
It can be easy. It can solve everything.
It can also ruin my life all over again. Do I really want to give in to one moment of weakness and risk undoing all my healing? Don't I deserve better than that? Am I not falling for the bare minimum here?
Gulping—and using every ounce of strength remaining in my body after an unnecessarily stressful day—I move away, lowering my chin before the hand he keeps dangerously close to my thigh dares to touch my cheek. All my resolve would turn to dust, and I'm not brave enough to survive another Rhett-sized blow to my spirit.
