Chapter 16

After ice skating,I think about texting Summer at least five hundred times. And all five hundred times, I convince myself not to do it, dismissing my reasons as stupid and unnecessary.

This relationship is supposed to be fake. Do fake boyfriends text fake girlfriends?

Even though we had a conversation about the rules, that was more about how we act in public. We didn't talk about expectations otherwise. Am I supposed to text her?

Better question: Am I supposed to want to text her?

After our home game last night, after which I got to hug her and hold her against me because that's what the public expects, the impulse has only intensified. I found half a dozen reasons to walk past her office today, and I missed seeing her every single time.

Finally, after practice, I find a string of texts from her on my phone.

Summer

Confession? I've been struggling all week trying to figure out if I should text you.

It felt weird to be at the Summit last night, hugging you after the game, then go home and not talk to you anymore.

I mean, I know it's fake. But what if when we're not faking it in public, we're still friends in private? That way it won't be weird if we happen to text each other.

I know you're practicing right now, so you can't respond. But I'm just going to assume you'll think this is a good idea and I'm going to ask you—AS A FRIEND—if you're going to be at Eli's tonight.

Because Gracie and Bailey want me to come, but I think it would be more fun if you were also there.

No pressure, I promise. Just if you want.

I drop onto the bench in the locker room, chuckling as I read over her texts a second time. I'm only half out of my gear, and I desperately need a shower, but somehow, this feels more important. It's funny that we've been having the same thoughts, feeling the same impulse to reach out.

I was already planning to go to Eli's, mostly because I hoped she'd be there. But we also rarely have Friday nights off when we aren't on the road. It's nice to hang out when we don't have the pressure of a game happening twenty-four hours later.

Nathan

I'll be at Eli's. And I feel good about texting as friends.

I tap my phone into my palm, debating whether I want to say more. But then I just do it. She's clearly texting exactly what she's thinking. It can't hurt for me to do the same thing.

I pull up the message thread and send her one more line.

Text whenever you want. I like it when you do.

After a quick shower at the Summit, I head home to get ready, spending an extra fifteen minutes trimming my beard and picking out clothes that look like I actually care. I even use a blow dryer on my hair, something my barber says I should do when I want it to look shiny instead of stringy.

It works. And I'm mad about it.

I look like I belong on one of those drugstore boxes of men's hair dye.

I force myself to leave it alone on the drive over, but I finally cave outside Eli's front door and pull my hair back into a bun. I'm not supposed to be trying this hard.

I'm not supposed to?—

In front of me, the door swings open, and Summer leans onto the porch, grabbing my arm and yanking me inside. She doesn't let go until she's dragged me across Eli's kitchen and into what I think must be his pantry, shutting the door behind us.

Eli's very dark, very small pantry.

"Hi," Summer says from directly in front of me. We aren't touching, and I can't see her, not in the small crack of light seeping in under the door, but I can feel the warmth of her, so I know she's standing close.

"Hello," I say slowly.

"Sorry. I know this is weird. I couldn't think of where else to take you. The bathroom felt more weird, and a bedroom seemed way too suggestive. I maybe underestimated your size though. I didn't realize we'd be standing so close."

I'd be fine if we were standing closer.

"Anyway, I just want to talk to you for a second," she continues.

"And we're going to do it in the dark?"

"I don't think there's a light in here," she says, then I hear her rummaging around like she's looking for a switch. "Wait. Found it." By the sound of it, she flips the switch a few times, the quiet click repeating over and over, but we're still plunged in darkness, so whatever that switch goes to, it's not the light.

"Huh. Maybe the bulb blew out."

"This is definitely less suggestive than the bedroom," I deadpan. "Two people hiding in a dark pantry doesn't look suspicious at all."

She lets out a little laugh. "You're worried they'll think we're playing seven minutes in heaven?"

"Seven minutes in what?"

Her hands press into my chest, and she gives me a little shove. "Shut up. Did you never play that game in middle school? Where two people are randomly picked and they're supposed to go into the closet and make out?"

My pulse quickens, my brain immediately recalling the feeling of her lips on mine. It takes me less than four seconds to imagine exactly how I'd spend seven minutes with Summer, and every single one of them would feel like heaven.

For a half-second, I wonder what she would do if I reached out and pulled her against me.

She wants seven minutes in heaven? I could give them to her. Right here. Right now.

But that would blur the lines, break all the rules we agreed to follow. She said she didn't want to be confused, and that would definitely be confusing. I've always thought I know what I want—or don't want—as far as relationships go, but now…Summer is making me question everything.

Once I'm sure I can open my mouth without saying something I might regret, I clear my throat. "So, what do you want to talk to me about again?"

"Right. That's why we're here," Summer says. She takes a steadying breath, like she's gearing up to admit something big. "Mostly, I just need you to know I had nothing to do with this."

"With what?"

She sighs. "We've been set up."

"Explain?"

"None of the single guys are here tonight. Not Alec or Van or Dumbo or Tucker or anyone."

"Okay. So who is here?"

This time, Summer huffs, and I smile at the sound. She's kind of adorable when she's irritated. "Felix and Gracie. Logan and Parker. Eli and Bailey. And you and me," she says.

"Ah."

"At first, I thought it was Parker wanting to give us more time to get to know each other, so we can, I don't know, look more natural when we're faking or whatever. But she swears she had no idea this was happening. I think it's probably Felix and Gracie pulling the strings."

The thought gives me pause. Do Felix and Gracie want us to be together? I mean, sure. I've been battling my own thoughts about Summer. And Felix did mention he wouldn't be opposed. But he knows how anti-dating I am right now. He should want to keep Summer as far away from me as possible.

"I reminded them we're just friends," Summer continues. "That the dating, the kissing, it's all fake. But they all just grinned at me with these knowing expressions, and…I don't know. I guess I just thought it would be easier to get through this if we're on the same team. If we both know what we're up against."

"I appreciate the heads-up," I say.

"Okay, next question. And this is an important one." She leans toward me, close enough that I feel the warmth of her radiating off her skin, but not quite close enough to touch. It would be so easy though. Too easy. "How are you at Settlers of Catan?"

The question surprises me, mostly because board games are the last thing on my mind right now.

"It's a board game," Summer says. "I guess Bailey is really good, and she and Eli want us all to play tonight. Do you know the game?"

Just saying yes would be a pretty drastic understatement, but it's less nerdy than the truth, and I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what this has to do with anything.

"Yeah, I know it," I say. Not the full truth. But not a lie either.

"You do? That's good. Because I'm positive they're going to make us play as a team—the rest of them definitely aren't splitting up—and just because they were so sneaky tonight, I really want us to win."

I did not see this one coming. Playing Catanwith my hockey teammates?

I smirk into the darkness. I could just tell Summer how well I know the rules myself. The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue. But maybe it will be more fun to keep this ace up my sleeve for now.

"Okay. We should probably go," Summer says. "The others might start catcalling if we don't. Sorry again for kidnapping you."

I reach for the door handle, but Summer must reach at the same time because my fingers close around her hand instead of the cool metal knob. We both react at the unexpected touch, jerking back, and Summer bumps into the shelf, then rebounds directly into me.

Her hands collide with my chest, and she wobbles, like she's lost her footing. I brace myself, lifting my hands to her elbows to steady her. I don't know if it's instinct or attraction or just a serious streak of self-sabotage, but I drop one elbow and wrap an arm around her waist, my hand pressing into the small of her back, and tug her against me.

She lets out a tiny gasp, but she doesn't pull back. In fact, she leans closer. Like she wants to be here as much as I want her to be.

My heart is pounding hard enough that I can feel it in my ears, something she can likely feel because her hand is still pressed against my chest.

"Are you okay?" I finally ask.

"Yeah. Thanks for catching me. My ankle twisted. I thought I was going down there for a sec."

I chuckle. "In here? Not sure you would have gotten far."

"Not without taking Eli and Bailey's shelves with me." We're quiet for a beat before she asks, "Want to hear something crazy?"

"Okay."

"Until you looked at me through the glass, right before the Chicago game, I'd never seen you smile."

Once again, she's completely taken me by surprise. "That can't be true," I say. "We've spent a lot of time together."

"Apparently not enough." She lifts her hand from my chest, then I feel her fingers slide across my beard until she reaches the corner of my mouth. One finger taps gently against my bottom lip, right near the edge, and it's all I can do not to lean forward and bite it.

"Right here," she says softly, "your lip will twitch the slightest bit. Like you want to smile. But I'd never seen the real thing. Now that I have seen it, all I can think about is seeing it again. I've been hunting for jokes all week just to see if I can get you to crack."

"Jokes, huh? You found any good ones?"

"Several," she says. "But not the right one."

"The right one? How are you going to know it's the right one?"

It's a shame we're standing in the dark because I'm smiling right now. Somehow, the darkness is making it easier. Giving us permission to do and say things we otherwise wouldn't.

When we open the door, letting light flood in around us and go back to the group, I'll start thinking again. I'll remember to be reasonable and logical and disciplined when it comes to what I will and won't think about Summer Callahan.

But here, in the dark, I let myself smile down at her without worrying about anything else.

"I'll just know," she says, answering my question. "I'll hear it and think, this is the one! This is the one that will break him!"

More like she'll be the one to break me. She already is. Weakening my resolve. Making me forget everything I thought I believed in.

On the other side of the door, a pair of feet-shaped shadows step close, then someone knocks, three quick raps.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Eli calls through the door, "but can someone throw out a head of garlic?"

"Guess that's our cue," Summer says. Her hands fall away from me, and seconds later, the pantry floods with light. I squint into it—how long were we actually in there?—and Eli raises his eyebrows.

"Sorry," Summer says easily as she moves past him. "We were just…discussing some very important strategies for the Catan game later. Weren't we, Nathan?" She shoots a look over her shoulder that I feel all the way down in my toes.

I swallow against the tightness in my throat. "Yep. That's—yeah."

On the shelf directly in front of me, I notice the garlic Eli must be looking for. I reach out and grab it, then quickly follow behind Summer.

"Here," I grumble as I drop the garlic into his hand. "Sorry. Also, we're gonna kick your asses at Catan."

Despite the obvious couple theme of the evening, I have a good time. Or maybe because of the obvious couple theme? It feels like the universe has given me unexpected permission to just focus on Summer the entire night. It's not like I can focus on any of the other women who are here, and since everyone else is coupled up, it would be rude to ignore her, to be anything but attentive and engaged.

What I don't do is smile. Not because I don't feel like it or because I'm not having fun.

But because I know Summer's watching for it. It's a game between us now, and I have no intention of making it easy on her. Maybe because I don't want her to stop watching for it. I don't want her to stop trying to earn it.

And she does try. All through dinner, she keeps bringing up ridiculous grade school jokes. The one about the hotdog who won the race and shouted, "I'm the weiner!" The interrupting cow knock-knock joke. Even three different variations of the classic chicken crossing the road joke.

Still, with every joke, she's never telling them to me. It's always to Gracie or Eli or Parker, who has a surprising treasure trove of dad jokes and a deadpan delivery that comes very close to making me cave and laugh with everyone else. But I know Summer is making the effort for me. Every joke, her eyes snap back to mine, like she can't wait to see how close she's gotten.

But now I'm determined to prolong this as long as possible. Fortunately for me, I have a lot of practice not smiling.

"Okay! Time for Catan," Eli says, clapping his hands as he moves toward the coffee table where he and Bailey have set up the game.

I follow Summer to the couch, and she sits down beside me, close enough that our thighs are fully pressed together, and I'm immediately enveloped in the subtle scent of her perfume. I have no idea what it is. It could be flowers or fruit or some combination of both, but I've already decided it's my new favorite scent.

She reaches over and squeezes my knee. "Just ask me if you have questions—or if you can't remember the rules."

What I didn't tell Summer before is that my college freshman roommate, Jordan, played Settlers of Catan at a competitive level, a game I didn't even know existed until I walked into my dorm on move-in day and saw eight different boxes on his bed. Every version of the game, every expansion pack, every extra anything possible to make the game longer and more complicated. I'd never even heard of it then, and when he offered to teach me how to play one night after hockey practice, I immediately declined.

But he kept asking, and eventually, I caved.

It ended up being an unexpected way to destress after a hard practice or a difficult loss or a long string of away games that sapped my energy and left me behind in all my classes.

Eventually, I got good enough at the game that Jordan started teaching me his strategies so I could play them back on him and help him discover ways to improve them. I never did beat him, not in nine months of sharing a dorm, but I'm betting on my experience level being slightly higher than anyone else who's here.

"Who needs the rules?" Eli asks. "Does everyone know how to play?"

Gracie has never played before, but Felix has, Bailey has been playing since she was in high school and recently taught Eli, and Logan has never played but Parker learned while she was in college, so there's at least one person on every team who knows enough that we can just start. I don't volunteer my history one way or the other, but Summer is vocal about knowing how to play, so I assume they take my silence to mean I don't.

Which is all the better. I have every intention of delivering the win Summer wants, and it'll be easier if they underestimate me.

After a quick roll of the dice, it's determined that Logan and Parker will place their settlement first, which means Summer and I will go last. This was always Jordan's preference. When you're last, you get to place two settlements at once which means you can be slightly more strategic.

Looking at the board, I immediately see where our first settlement should go. Summer must see it too, because she places it exactly where I would. But the second one—she's looking in an entirely different spot. Seconds before her hand touches the board, I snake an arm around her waist and squeeze. She freezes in midair, her eyes shifting to mine. I give her the tiniest head shake and she immediately understands, playing off the moment like she's just debating on her own.

Slowly, I inch my hand upward and loosely grab her elbow, tugging her arm toward the best spot.

She drops our game piece onto the board, then leans back, settling into the curve of my arm. She looks up, blue eyes flashing. "You have some explaining to do," she whispers.

My lips twitch. "Just follow my lead," I whisper back.

It takes about four more rounds before the rest of the group starts to pick up on my not-so-beginner status. Bailey is clearly my fiercest competitor, and after an hour, we're so far ahead of the other two teams, they're only serving as obstacles to the game we're playing against each other.

Summer has long since stopped making suggestions, but I'm still hyperaware of her. Every time she puts a hand on my shoulder as she leans over the board or grabs my arm to cheer when something goes our way, I feel her touch like a hot brand against my skin. I'm focused on the game, but in the back of my mind, all I can think of is her. How much I wanted to kiss her when her finger brushed over my lip. How good it felt to hold her against me.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it. How I'm supposed to reconcile what I know about myself with what I want.

Finally, I upgrade a settlement to a city and get the final game-winning point.

Bailey groans and drops back into her chair. "Okay. Spill it. How did you become such a Catan ninja?"

"That's actually the first time I've ever won," I say, because it's the truth. Not the whole truth, but I've had these skills in my back pocket for years, and I've never had the chance to use them. I'm not going to spoil the fun by spilling my secrets now.

"Liar," Eli says. "You played like a freaking scientist. Like you were planning each turn five turns ahead."

I was planning each turn five turns ahead, but I wave a dismissive hand. "Nah. Just got lucky."

Summer eyes me curiously while Eli grumbles, leaning down to help Bailey clean up the game.

"You just got lucky," Summer repeats, her expression dubious.

I meet her sparkling blue gaze and lift a finger to my lips in a shushing motion.

The rest of the group heads to the kitchen for dessert, and we follow, but halfway there, Summer stops, pulling her vibrating phone out of her pocket.

She gasps and holds up the screen. "Nathan. It's Franklin. He's finally calling us back."