“A disaster you orchestrated because you’re too chicken-shit to tell Mom and Dad you’d rather choke on a bag of dicks than date guys like Landon, you mean?”

I folded my arms. “You know I can’t break their hearts like that.”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. But you can lie to their faces, right?”

“Only to protect their feelings!”

Steph sat back, clutching her coffee in both hands while she tucked her bare feet beneath her. “Okay, here’s what I think you should do.”

“This should be good,” I said.

“How about you just embrace it? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

I stared. Hadn’t she learned the lesson about not asking that question? “Well, let’s see,” I said, voice laced with sarcasm. “My boss could figure out I lied about being in a relationship with Dean. That would be bad.”

“What? Why would he even care?”

“Because I kind of used Dean as an excuse to miss work a few times?”

Steph grinned. “Okay. So your boss gets a little peeved. Big deal.”

“Mom and Dad could figure out I’ve been lying to them about Dean. Best case, they don’t really care but now start shoving some other guy down my throat. Worst case, I break their hearts and they never love me again.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “Well, you won’t agree to break up with your fake boyfriend, so it sounds like you’re just going to have to risk it, aren’t you? Actually, you should text him right now. Ask if he’s ready to fake the crap out of your relationship in a few days at this conference.”

I lifted my phone. “You know what? I think I will.” I typed out something similar to that, unable to stop myself from admiring the picture he’d sent six long months ago. I’d never texted him after that, and those two lines–both actually written by Dean–were our only communication.

I set the phone down with a click on the glass coffee table. “There. I asked him. I’m sure it’ll be a few–”

My phone vibrated.

I snatched it up and read with Steph leaning over my shoulder. “What did he say?” she asked.

Dean: Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure nobody doubts we’re head over heels. We’re going to fake the shit out of this.

A second later, he followed his text with another selfie shot of him winking and smiling at the camera. It should’ve been obnoxious–I mean, how many winking and smiling selfies could one guy send without looking vain as hell? But there wasn’t anything posed about the pictures. He had a natural photogenic quality that made it seem somehow perfectly normal.

Except for the fact that he was gorgeous enough to make a god jealous.

Steph had scooted close enough to see my phone, and she plucked it from my hands a moment after the picture came through. “Holy shit. You never told me he looked like that!”

She pulled back, clutching the phone to her chest and looking at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Your fake boyfriend is a fucking supermodel!”