Dreame-Novel Facebook ad: “Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother Click to Read”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

1873296756887870

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network, Messenger and Threads

Relaunches

3

EU reach

12,228

Niche

Pets

How we count

Ad text

"“Return my jacket,” my ex texted. “My new girl wants it.” Less than twelve hours after I caught him cheating, he already had a replacement. I should have blocked him. Instead, I walked straight into his brother’s apartment. Braydon Cooper, the campus’ golden brother. He looked me up and down, shirtless, smug. “Rough day, Peach?” he asked. “Don’t call me that,” I said. “And put on a shirt.” He laughed. “You here to tutor me or lecture me?” “I’m here because your brother cheated on me,” I snapped. “I need a favor.” His mouth tilted. “I’m listening.” “I’ll tutor you,” I said. “Not just to pass exams. You’ll ace every class. A or higher.” “And what do you get?” he asked. I stepped closer. “You.” He blinked. “Me?” “You pursue me,” I said. “Publicly. Loudly. Dates. Photos. Everyone sees it.” A pause. Then a low laugh. “You want me to be your fake boyfriend.” “I want your reputation,” I corrected. “And I want my ex to choke on it.” His gaze dropped to my lips. “And what happens when pretending stops feeling fake?” “That won’t happen,” I said too fast. He leaned in, voice brushing my ear. “Careful, Peach,” he murmured. “I don’t fake anything halfway.”" KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so sht-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm Silly enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm Silly enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every dayum day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. BRAYDON’S POV “аs hole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. , I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be dаmed if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know dayum well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a curvaceous smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cok springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suk it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just hа'd sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "scr'w you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty cond0m wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That dam nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sx, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and godаm, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jrk toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so Dam tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he coks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a beach.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shift. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suk in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We hа'd sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-as it. He can smell bull a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.”

Where the ad sends people

brgbook.com

📖Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother📖Click to Read 👉

A wonderland for all kinds of book lovers; Embrace a whole new world of gripping stories.