روايات وقصص ضمن Can't Fake The Feeling

I questioned her. She looked at me with uncertainty, took a deep breath and answered, "We need you to be a fake bride”. I released my hand from her grip but she continued, "It's less than two weeks away from now, I promise we're going to annul it. The only thing we need is your presence as the bride". I chuckled forcefully, "I have a lot on my plate and I do not have time to on a charade". I tried to open the car door but she held on to me tightly and started pleading. I wasn't ready to be caught in between the rich folks but she kept on emphasizing how I'd fit the role perfectly because I have almost the same body frame as Daisy.

Guilt twisted in my stomach like a snake, making me feel sick as Caleb's kind face flashed through my mind. Though Liam’s hand lightly remained on my shoulder, I was more concerned about my reaction towards him. The weight of his fingers felt different now, heavier somehow, like they were burning through my shirt. I shifted slightly, trying to put some distance between us without being obvious about it. "I'm so tired," I said, after a few seconds of silence, feigning a light yawn. The fake yawn turned into a real one halfway through, my body betraying how emotionally and physically drained I actually was. It was already getting dark at this point and I was sure our fake date lesson wasn't go

“I can feel it, and I know you can too.” “What we are feeling right now, isn’t real.” It was hard for her to say it. But she was convinced it was true. “I think I know you. You think you know me but it is all just doctored by the app. Nothing we do…Nothing we confess is organic. It feels plastic. I know you sense it too.”

Inside was a dream; tall walls, open space, windows so big you could see everything yet nothing at all. The isolation of the property both excited and scared me, and the longer I walked around holding Armani’s hand, the more I began to feel a little hopeful again. My concerns over the last day felt silly — presumptuous. Though a part of my brain was still very aware that this could turn sour very quickly, I allowed myself to enjoy this simple few minutes with my fake husband and even smile, just a little bit.

"It's all fake, the nightmare. Look around you, look at me on the screen. " "Oh." Ashley's mind was a little unclear. "There is no light on my side. I don't bother to go down and drive." Jacob smiled and replied, "Mm-hmm." "It's all fake," even Ashley thought she was going to fall asleep. "I'm the real one, and everything else is fake." Jacob's voice was low and affectionate. "I know." The two were talking without a match, and Ashley unwittingly lay down on the bed and gradually fell asleep.

Because that didn’t feel fake. That felt like the start of something we couldn’t unsay, undo, or unscrew.

And no amount of playful teasing or literary verbal sparring could excuse the undeniable portent of those stirrings beginning to echo primal battle hymns and lusty war drums through every thundering pore and firing synapse. A precursor ionization peeling free of long banked layers now, as if sensing external catalytic forces lacing closer with each forbidden slipstream. One fraught question alone remained - how much willpower could I have to ask him to be my fake boyfriend?

If only he had seen the desperation behind her calm facade… He snatched his phone, his fingers flying as he sent a frantic barrage of messages. [Where are you?] [Come back. Can we please talk?] [I can explain, Grace. The ceremony was fake. You're my only mate!] [Please, don't ignore me…] The messages vanished one after another, like stones tossed into a deep ocean, met with total silence. The only sound was the soft swoosh of his own outgoing texts, echoing in the empty house. He’d never imagined she would actually leave.

Hazel's POV Maybe I overreacted. The thought followed me all the way back to the dorm, clinging to my memory and I couldn’t quite shake it off. It was all fake anyway, wasn’t it? A deal. A temporary arrangement that was made for survival, not real feelings. If Jaxon didn’t defend me, and let his mother think I was just another fling, didn’t that technically align with the rules we’d set? So why did it hurt like this?

A scheme designed to erase me from his life. Familiar laughter drifted through the crack in the door. "Seriously, Liam, you've got guts," said Marcus, Liam's best friend. "How did you make those silver whip scars look so real?" Liam's expression was relaxed, a stark contrast to the agony he’d shown me. "Three days of drinking beast blood," Liam said casually. "Tastes like filth, but it works. Slows the healing, makes the wounds look legit. Like you really got your ass handed to you."