Chapters (31)
- Cover
- Praise for Faker
- TITLES BY SARAH SMITH
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Callum pulls me by the hand to the very edge of the dancing mass. He takes a sip of the drink before letting me finish it off. I set the coconut at our feet, letting the alcohol and the electronic beat pulse through me.
He presses his front against me, swaying his body slowly at first. The beat speeds up, and I move my hips faster. One of my hands clutches Callum’s shoulder; the other holds my long hair back and out of my face. With the elastic band on my wrist, I tie it up into a ponytail.
Callum leans his lips to my ear. “Always prepared,” he muses.
“Always.”
Under the influence of alcohol and electronic dance music, I feel a whole new kind of ease, moving my body however and wherever I feel. I haven’t felt this good—this free—in ages.
Maybe it’s the juice-laden alcohol pumping through my system. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been out like this in almost two years. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve got this hot man pressed against me in public and I can touch him, grab him, and grind against him, without a single worry as to what anyone around us will do or say. Because of these masks, we’re hidden in plain sight. And it drives me the best kind of crazy.
Spinning around, I press my backside against his front. I lean my back into his chest and grip the back of his neck with my arm. He peers down at me gazing up at him; our stares lock. Despite the barrier our masks provide, I can tell exactly how he’s feeling. It’s all in his eyes. Those normally hazel-green stunners are dilated to hell. Jet-black spheres overtake the green. The way I’m moving my body, the show I’m putting on for him, it’s having quite an effect on him.
Something hard presses against my ass, sending a grin to my face. He’s really, really enjoying the effects of me grinding on him, it seems.
“Fuck,” he grunts.
Immediately, I stop grinding against him, moving myself just a few inches away. “Getting all worked up?” I shout over the thundering beat.
“A bit,” he mouths, then chuckles. He is adorably flustered.
I turn around to face him, my head still mildly dizzy from quickly downing that gigantic cocktail and the music thundering around us. With my arms wrapped around his neck, we shuffle our feet back and forth in a slow dance. It doesn’t matter that our soundtrack is upbeat or that everyone else around us is jumping and raving. Nothing outside of me and Callum exists right now.
A few minutes pass, and then Callum takes a breath. “All good now. Thanks,” he yells over the music.