The waitress giggles as she introduces herself. I barely manage to fight a glare. Who the hell does she think she is looking at Pete like she knows him?

I scoot my chair closer to his and slide my arm around his waist. This does nothing to wipe the flirty look off her face. No, apparently, it doesn't matter that he's my boyfriend.

Fake boyfriend, but she doesn't know that.

I order my vegetable omelet and latte through clenched teeth. She keeps her eyes on Pete the entire time, punctuating her questions with giggles.

When she goes on to her next table, he chuckles.

His lips curl into a smile. "You're jealous."

"No." Maybe. Absolutely. "A little."

"Didn't take much."

His smile goes ear to ear. He's enjoying teasing me. I don't take the bait. But I do scoot a little closer. In case any other woman has designs on taking him home.

I look at him. "How does this work, being seen?"

"Basically this. We'll spend the day hitting a few popular spots. Should get someone snapping pics—a fan or a paparazzi. Something will make its way to a gossip blog. Just have to give it time."

"People really take pictures of you eating brunch?"

He leans in closer. "Yeah. Most people are too shy to say hi. But they like having that story once I saw this b-list celebrity at breakfast. Picture helps sell it."

"Seeing a guy at breakfast is a pretty shitty story."

His lips curl into a smile. "What about, saw him causing a scene, making out with his girlfriend at breakfast?"

"Better."

He cocks a brow. "Saw him fingering his girlfriend under the table at breakfast?"

I swallow hard so I won't scream yes, right now. "You're going to get me into trouble."

He nods and motions come here.

I lean closer. Until I can smell his breath. A hint of coffee. And spearmint.

He presses his lips against mine.

Mmm. He tastes good. My lips part to make way for his tongue. Is this real or pretend? I don't know. I only know how much I like his lips on mine.

My hands slide into his hair. My hips shift, begging me to climb into his lap. Damn, I want to say yes.

We're in plain view of anyone who walks by.

His eyes bore into mine when he pulls back. His voice is clear and confident. "You want me to do it."

"Isn't that bad for your nice, blond girlfriend image?"

"Probably. Still do it if you ask."

"That's not a good idea." I take a long sip of my water then look back to him. "I still can't believe you go to brunch."

"Cause brunch is for girls? Expect better from you. That kinda thinking is retrograde." He shakes his head with mock outrage.

"What do you do most mornings?"

"Cereal." He takes a long sip of his coffee. "Can't cook to save my life."

"Really?" I'm so focused on his deep brown eyes that I stir extra sugar into my coffee.

He chuckles. "Set grilled cheese on fire once."

"You did not."

He nods.

"But you're good at everything."

"Not cooking."

I study his expression. He's actually sheepish. It's incredibly endearing.

"I can teach you," I offer. "At home, I always cooked for my sister and my dad."

His voice softens. "Your mom?"

"She left when I was about twelve." I cut myself off but the memory catches up to me—the way Mom looked at us like we were keeping her from what she really wanted, how casually she walked away and never looked back.

"Hey." His voice is deep and steady. "You're hurting."

I nod.

"Tell me about it."

Can I really do that? I've never talked about this with anyone. Not even Madison. We pretend like it never happened.

My entire extended family always toes the everything is fine party line.

I take a deep breath. I want to talk to Pete. I trust him.

I go on. "I didn't realize it then, but she never wanted to have kids. Never wanted to get married. My dad convinced her it was a good idea, that he'd stay home with us so she could put her career first. Never happened." My voice strains. "It was sudden. One night she came into my room and kissed me goodbye. In the morning she was gone. I had no clue where she went. I had no clue how to get in touch with her."

"I'm sorry you went through that."

"Thank you." My gaze goes to my thighs. "I thought it was my fault. That if I'd been less demanding or if I'd gotten better grades… if it hadn't been so hard for her to take care of us, then she would have stayed."

He squeezes my hand. "Your dad never picked up the slack?"

My stomach clenches. I'm not ready to talk about him yet. "No, he can barely take care of himself."

"Your sister the one who slept with your boyfriend?"

"She's my only sister."

"She did that after years of you taking care of her?"

"Sort of. She's only two years younger. She's been able to take care of herself for a while."

His fingertips find my chin. He tilts me so we're eye to eye. His expression is demanding. "Promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise you'll stop running from how much that hurts you." His eyes fill with affection. "You don't have to be her friend. Don't have to make up with her. Don't even have to talk to her again. But you have to stop pretending it doesn't hurt."

"Will you stop pretending it doesn't hurt that your ex cheated on you?"

"I'm not pretending. Just don't like talking about it." He scoots back. His eyes meet mine. "How long were you with your ex?"

"Almost three years."

"All due respect, but what the fuck were you doing with him for that long? Asshole doesn't even like Hunger Games."

I stare back at him. "I'll tell you if you tell me what you were doing with your ex for six years."

"I loved her."

"I loved Nathan. Or I thought I did. I'm not the one who said I didn't feel my ex in my soul."

"You ever feel something in your soul?"

The question disarms me. There are all sorts of things that hurt somewhere deep. Mom leaving, finding Dad drunk in a pile of his own vomit, that elation of getting into law school then the look on Nathan's face when he told me I had to choose between him and school.

"I don't know. Maybe." My breath breaks up the tension forming in my chest.

"You want to be assertive."

"Yeah."

"So tell me to fuck off or tell me why you were with your ex for three years."

I laugh. "You have a really strange way of wording things."

"Is that a fuck off?"

I shake my head. It's difficult to talk about Nathan. I can see, in hindsight, how awful our relationship was. But I missed every single sign.

His voice softens. "Not trying to judge you. Just want to know where you hurt."

A million feelings swirl inside me. He wants to know where I hurt? He might as well say I love you and I want to take your pain away. I feel light. I feel like I can fly. The thought of Pete loving me…

It's intoxicating.

But it's not true. I can't get ahead of myself. I roll my shoulders back to break up the tension taking hold of my shoulders. "Nathan was charming. And nobody ever really paid attention to me. He was popular, funny, smart. I didn't have a clue what relationships were supposed to be like, what love looked like. I thought it was normal, the way he'd convince me his way was best, the way he put his needs first. I figured all guys were like that. Or else why would Mom leave?"

"Shit. I'm being an asshole. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, but you're right. I was with him for a long time because I thought that he loved me and that I loved him. I thought that he cared about me. But he didn't. How could I have been so blind to that? I was nineteen when we started dating. I was old enough to know better." My stomach clenches. It feels so pathetic looking back on it.

Will Pete think less of me for being spineless? I wouldn't tell anyone else. But I want him to know me, to know where I hurt.

And I want to know him. I want to know every single place he hurts. If he'll ever reveal them to me.

I take a deep breath. "When I got into law school, I thought he'd be happy for me. But he wasn't. I got into NYU. I would have stayed in New York for him. But he didn't want me to be a lawyer. He wanted me to be his wife, to stay home and take care of his kids, and always put him first."

"That's fucked up."

"You don't want that?"

His brow furrows. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No, I… I just thought. I don't know." I trip over my tongue. "I guess I don't know what adult relationships are supposed to look like. Not that it matters. We're… we're not together that way."

"Whatever you want to call this, we're equals. I always want to know what you want." His eyes turn down. "I'd never get in your way like that."

"Oh."

"Fuck, I'm glad I get to help you become a lawyer." He meets my gaze, his eyes brimming with affection. "You deserve the fucking world, Jess. Wish I could offer you more than this."

My heart sinks. He's being so sweet telling me he'll never really love me.

Everything is heavy. The air is colder, the sun is dimmer. He's never going to love me. He's never going to be my boyfriend.

How is that possible? The way he's staring at me, I'm sure he cares about me.

I try to push it out of my head but it won't go. How can he tell me I deserve the world in one breath then tell me he'll never love me in the next?

His arm slides around my shoulders. "You're like Katniss, trying to shoulder a whole fucking revolution."

"Are you talking Hunger Games with me?"

He nods.

"You can't do that, Pete. You're gonna make me fall in love with you."

"That's all it takes?"

"When it's you."

"Jess, I… I'm not gonna want a relationship."

"I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

I nod a yes, but I'm not sure I mean it.

* * *

After brunch, we spend an hour walking around the outdoor shopping center. For the most part, people leave us alone. Either Pete is infinitely less recognizable in sunglasses or people really are used to seeing celebrities everywhere.

I forget all about what it is we're supposed to be doing and enjoy soaking in the afternoon with him. We browse the aisles of an independent bookstore. He picks books from the Young Adult shelf, skips to random passages, then asks me to deem the books as read-worthy or not. I do the same with the science fiction shelf. Despite my insistence that both of us read exclusively on our e-readers, he buys every book that makes it into our stack.

We sit at an outdoor cafe, sipping iced drinks and leafing through our new reading material.

I don't notice the day passing until my stomach grumbles. The sun is streaked with orange. It's already evening. Damn, it's easy being with him. I haven't thought about anything since brunch.

"You hungry?" he asks.

I nod.

"There's a great restaurant at this hotel in the hills. Don't usually go 'cause it's such a scene."

* * *

Pete leads me through the lush lobby. The restaurant is off to the left. Its gold signs make it look expensive.

He nods to a guarded pool to the right. "Should we crash?"

"We can't."

He slides his arm around my waist, pulling my body into his. "Want to bet?"

"No. I'm sure you can figure something out."

He leans in to whisper in my ear. "Too bad. Was gonna make my prize eating you out."

My cheeks flush. He really said those words. It shouldn't surprise me at this point, but I'm still tingly with anticipation.

He chuckles. "That a problem?"

"No. Just… is that really what you'd want for a prize?"

"Yeah."

"Uh…" It's impossible to think.

He presses his palm against my lower back. "Don't fucking tell me you don't like it. Been thinking about tasting your cunt for two days straight."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

I clear my throat. Okay. I need to get my senses back.

I pull back enough to look into his eyes. They're earnest. Hell, they're wide with desire.

"Jess, don't fucking tell me you don't like it." He stares back into my eyes. "I don't do oral with random hookups and I've been going fucking crazy thinking about feeling you come on my face."

"No. I like it."

"Good." His eyes pass over me. "What the fuck are we doing talking then? Let's go."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He nods to a single-stall bathroom in the corner of the lobby.

I'm not ready for public bathroom sex. I take a step backwards so I won't give into temptation. "You really want to do it?"

"What about I've been going fucking crazy thinking about feeling you come on my face was unclear?"

"Uh…"

He pulls me into a kiss. It's a hell of a kiss. When he releases me, my heart is thudding against my chest. I'm practically dizzy.

There's no way that's for show.

Enough talking. I can't ignore my body's demands any longer.

I want to come on his face.

I bring my lips to his ear. "I want to… I want you to go down on me."

His lips curl into a smile. He motions to the bathroom.

I'm not ready for that. Yet. I stare into his gorgeous brown eyes with as much confidence as I can muster. "This is a hotel, isn't it?"

He nods.

"We can get a room."

He chuckles. "And do what?"

"Don't tease me, Steele. You fell asleep on me last night."

His eyes meet mine. "I'll get a room, but I'm gonna tease you. Gonna tease you until you're begging."