Things Liars Fake (#ThreeLittleLies #3) by Sara Ney

lying to them.”
    “Sorry about dragging you into this. I just think my mom wasn’t in the frame of mind to believe me, and instead of arguing with her about having a girlfriend, it’s seriously just easier to bring you. My mom hears what she wants to hear. As awkward as it’s going to be for you, this is the story of my life.”
    “Awkward for me?”
    “Yeah.” I glance at her. “Faking it. Pretending to like me. Pretending to be attracted to me.” With a self-deprecating chuckle, my finger pushes my black glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Let’s see how good an actress you are.”
    I find the exit ramp.
    Take a right at the light.
    Pretend not to be affected by the downturn of her lips.

 
     

     
    S tupid boy.
    I should tell him I don’t have to pretend.
    That I am attracted to him.
    That I do like him.
    That if he’d only asked me on a real date, I would have said yes.
    Yes, Dexter, I’d love to go to dinner with you!
    Yes, Dexter, I’d love to see another movie .
    Yes, Dexter, I’d love to …
    But instead, he asked me to be his fake girlfriend for one night. Nothing really but an escort—and an unpaid one at that.
    I scoff miserably, wondering if he’s thought of it that way at all.
    Probably not.
    I sigh, glancing over at him, the reflection from the street lights whizzing past us reflecting off his glasses, taking note of the way he’s concentrating on the road. How he keeps checking his blind spots. How he turns his blinker on every time he changes lanes. How he steals glances at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
    But that’s where he’s wrong.
    I am paying attention.
    Have been since I swung open the door of my apartment earlier, eyes damn near bugging out of my head at the sight of him standing there. Preppy. Professional. Nervous.
    Wanting to rip his clothes off, beginning with his buttoned up blue dress shirt, I’d start by running my hands up under the rolled up cuffs of his shirt—over his pale but toned forearms.
    Tucked into a pair of black pressed slacks, nothing has ever made me hotter than the site of a guy in…
    Suspenders.
    Yeah. Suspenders for God’s sake.
    I want to snap them.
    Run my hands up his chest, under the length of them.
    Slowly unbutton his shirt and push the suspenders down his arms—just to see the look on his face.
    I train my lecherous eyes back out the window. “What did you tell your mom about me?”
    His deep voice fills the cab of his spotlessly clean car. “Nothing much, to be honest. She was too busy chastising me for keeping you my dirty little secret—she didn’t ask for specific details. All she knows is what my Aunt told her. ”
    A dirty little secret sounds… delightful.
    I sigh, wishing I had one.
    In the quiet cab of his fancy car, I hear Dexter shrug. Turning so my head faces him, I brush a lock of hair out of my face. Beneath the lamplights on the street, his eyes follow the motion when my hand caresses the side of my face, swiping at my long curls. “Which is what? What did your aunt tell her?”
    “Just the facts—that you were polite.” Dexter hesitates. “That you’re beautiful.”
    Beautiful; the word lodges itself in my brain and takes root there at the same time my stomach does a summersault; an unexpected, pleased, little flip-flop.
    Beautiful. No one has ever called me that before.
    Cute? Yes.
    Wholesome? Yes.
    Girl-next-door adorable? Unfortunately .
    Does Dexter think I’m beautiful, too? I’m not asking to sound conceited, but it crossed my mind after he didn’t ask me out that perhaps… he’s not attracted to me. Maybe I’m not his type. Maybe he does truly just want to be friends. Play the doting boyfriend for one night—and one night only.
    “And head’s up—they all think you’re Southern, so good luck with that.”
    “Trust me, I can manage to throw a few y’alls into the conversations. Give Aunt Bethany a cheap thrill.”
    “Oh, I’m sure you can.” His grin is lopsided and