Chapter Nine

I lean in.

The spoon hovers between us, steam curling in the air. His hand stays steady, but mine trembles slightly as I take the bite. The warmth hits my tongue—savory, rich, a little too spicy—and I can’t help the small sound that escapes my throat.

“Good?” he asks, his voice low, almost breathless.

I nod, maybe too quickly. “It’s… really good.”

He doesn’t look away. His lips twitch, almost a smile, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moves.

“You’ve got sauce—” he says, lifting his hand.

Before I can ask where, his thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, slow, gentle. My breath catches. His fingers linger a moment too long before he pulls back.

“There,” he murmurs.

I force a laugh, though it comes out shaky. “Thanks, chef.”

He smiles for real this time, quiet but warm enough to make my stomach twist. “You should stay in the kitchen more often. It suits you.”

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the flutter in my chest. “Yeah, because I’m so good at sitting and staring while someone else does all the work.”

“That’s a start,” he teases.

He turns back to the stove, but I can’t. My gaze stays fixed on him, tracing the slope of his shoulders, the calm way he moves. The thought comes uninvited—how it might feel if he turned around, closed that last inch of space, and kissed me.

I swallow hard and look away, pretending to study the counter. This is just me being crazy. What’s there to like about him anyway?

“I’ll be in Alice’s room.” I hop off the counter and retreat before I do something stupid.

Alice is out cold on the bed, her phone still in her hand. So much for asking Dominic to make dinner. I pull the covers over her and grab my phone, its screen lighting up with a flood of I*******m notifications.

Comments scroll under my latest post.

I thought it was a fake relationship. This doesn’t look so fake.

Trying to prove she’s moved on from Asher.

Jennifer. Of course.

I roll my eyes and log out. What’s there to prove?

The room feels too quiet. Alice’s soft breathing fills the space, and the faint hum of the air conditioner carries from down the hall. I sigh. I should tell Dominic not to bother dishing out her food—she’s clearly not waking up anytime soon.

When I step into the kitchen, he’s gone, but two steaming plates of spaghetti sit neatly on the counter. My chest tightens a little at how tidy everything looks, how precise he always is. I hesitate, then drift toward his room and knock lightly.

I wander down the hall and knock lightly on his door before pushing it open. The sound of running water fills the room.

“Dominic?” No answer.

I glance around. His room is neat—predictably neat—with trophies lined on the shelf and framed certificates along the wall. My gaze catches a paper on the desk.

I pick it up. My Wishlist, it reads in his tidy handwriting. I turn it over—and a photo slips free.

It’s Dominic. And a girl clinging to his arm, smiling like she belongs there. Charlotte. Cheerleading squad. A grade below.

My stomach dips. So, he has a girlfriend? My thoughts spiral. Why didn’t he say anything? Why agree to pretend-date me if he already—

The door opens.

I spin around just as he walks in, wet hair slicked back, towel around his waist.

“Catherine,” he says, startled. His eyes dart from my face to the paper in my hand. In two strides, he’s in front of me, snatching the photo and list away. “You didn’t even knock properly!”

“I did! You weren’t answering!” My voice comes out too fast. My face burns. “And—God—I feel awful, but why didn’t you mention you had a girlfriend when I asked you to pretend to date me? That’s so messed up!”

“I’m not dating anyone,” he says quietly.

“But that’s you and Charlotte,” I say, pointing helplessly toward the photo. “It looks pretty recent.”

He stuffs the photo into a cabinet and shuts it firmly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Do you need anything?”

“Alice is asleep. I just came to tell you I’ll eat so your effort won’t be wasted.”

“You really don’t have to,” he mutters, already reaching for the doorknob.

“You’re pissed because I touched the photo,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on his face—anywhere but lower.

He exhales. “I’m not pissed, Catherine. I’m just… not comfortable talking about personal stuff to someone like you.”

My heart clenches. “Someone like me?”

“Someone that doesn’t care.”

And then—he shuts the door right in my face.

My raised hand drops slowly. I stare at the closed door for a beat before turning back to Alice’s room.

What does that even mean—someone that doesn’t care? The words loop in my head, sharp and small like a splinter. He can keep his childish attitude to himself.

I crawl into bed, yanking the duvet over my head and forcing my eyes shut. Sleep doesn’t come easily—it’s a restless drift of thoughts, of his voice, of that look on his face before he shut the door.

When I finally open my eyes, someone’s tugging at the blanket.

Alice stands at the edge of the bed, already dressed and glowing with morning energy that shouldn’t be legal.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I mumble, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eight. Hurry up!” she says, already halfway out the door.

A few minutes later, I’m dressed in Alice’s jeans and a tight skin top that fits better than I expected. I find her in the kitchen, slurping down last night’s dinner straight from the plate.

“Where’s Dominic?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“He left for school already,” she says, mouth half-full.

A heavy feeling creeps through my chest, pressing down harder the more I think about his expression, the photo, and his cold words.

“Alice,” I start slowly, “what happened between Dominic and Charlotte?”

Her spoon stops midair. “Why?”

“He got mad when I touched their photo,” I say.

She blinks, then lets out a short laugh. “Oh. Maybe he didn’t want you to know, but yeah—they dated. Pretty solid, too. No one knows what went wrong exactly, but it messed him up real bad.”

I frown. “Messed him up?”

“Something about her using him for grades or something,” she says with a shrug, going back to her food. “It’s been months, but he hasn’t really been the same since.”

“I suddenly feel like I’m doing the same thing to him,” I breathe out, guilt weighing in my chest.

Alice frowns. “You love him. It’s not the same thing.”

My pulse skips. Love him? The words sound ridiculous. If only she knew the truth—that this whole fake dating thing was meant to protect her, not hurt him.

I force a shaky laugh but the dread creeps in anyway. Maybe I am hurting him. Maybe pretending means more to him than it does to me.

I want to tell her everything—that this was just to keep her from getting caught in the middle—but the words stick to my tongue. The truth would ruin everything.

Alice’s phone starts ringing, rescuing me from my thoughts.

“Dominic?” she answers quickly. “Project paper? Yeah—hang on.” She glances at me. “I’ll give them to Catherine. She’ll bring them to you.”

My stomach drops. I manage a tight smile even though every instinct screams don’t go.

Alice drops her phone onto the table. “I’m going straight to the principal’s office to get approval for the junior class clean-up,” she says, already grabbing her bag.

I blink. “Now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back soon. Just drop the project papers with Dominic, okay?”

She’s out the door before I can even protest.

The moment she’s gone, I exhale, pressing my hand against my chest. The thought of seeing Dominic again makes my stomach twist. After last night, I don’t even know what to say to him—or how to look at him without remembering the way he’d said someone like you.

But it’s too late to back out now.