Then I notice Elise watching us with a smile on her face, and ohhh. Boyfriend. Fake boyfriend. Duh. He’s only playing his role.

Of course. Obviously. Silly of me to forget.

Letting him carry the cookies, I backtrack to refill my coffee mug, then join everyone else in the living room. Travis is already sitting at one end of the couch, looking like he’s squashed himself as far against the arm as he can, and Elise is at the other end. May and her grandfather must have finished their game, because Grant is now sitting in the armchair, and May is stretched out on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table.

I survey the room as if some more seating will magically appear.

“Come sit,” Elise says, patting the empty space in the middle of the couch. “There’s plenty of room.”

There’s not plenty of room. Enough room for me to fit, sure. But that would put me a lot closer to her than I’m comfortable with. My eyes flit between her and Travis, until Travis smiles at me and holds out his arm along the back of the couch like an invitation.

Not left with much choice, I go to him, carefully stepping over May’s legs. I sit down so that I’m closer to him, leaving more space between me and Elise. He puts his arm around my shoulders as soon as I’m seated, and I let myself lean against him. His fingers start traveling up and down over my shirt sleeve in a very comforting way.

For someone who doesn’t do relationships, he’s really good at this.

His touch soothes my anxiety, and by the time the opening credits of the movie appear on the screen, I’ve sunk into him so much that I’d fall over if he decided to get up.

Turning his head toward me, he whispers in my ear, “How are your fingers?”

The question takes me a second to process, because being held by him honestly made me forget all about the burns. Now that I remember, they do hurt a little. Instead of admitting that, though, I just shrug in response.

He gives me an appraising look, like that wasn’t a good enough answer. And then he reaches for my hand, brings it up to his mouth, and slowly presses a soft kiss to each burnt fingertip.

I’m holding my breath the entire time. Are Elise and Grant watching us? Is this all a show for them? Surely, it must be. But then why does it feel like it’s really for me?

When he’s done, he gives me my hand back. Although it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Pretty sure he owns it now.