Free The Trouble with Faking by Rachel Morgan Page A

welcome.”
    “Perhaps I should go over there and support my pretend boyfriend now.”
    “Or your pretend love interest. He looks like he could do with some moral support.”
    Smiling and shaking my head, I walk back to the pool table and stand at one end. “How’s it going here?”
    “I’m the underdog,” Mike says with a relaxed shrug, “so not much has changed.”
    “Well, that’ll make it all the more exciting when you win, won’t it?” I flash him an almost-flirtatious smile so Damien can see I’m keeping up my part of the game.
    “Hey, don’t I get any support from my girlfriend?” Damien jokes.
    I blow him a kiss and say, “Sorry, babe.” Babe? Where on earth did that come from? I’ve never called anyone ‘babe’ in my life.
    Damien leans over the table, aims his cue stick, and shoots. The ball he was aiming for narrowly misses the pocket, rebounds, whacks a group of three balls, and knocks the 8 ball into a pocket.
    “Yes!” Mike pumps his fist in the air, then holds his hand up so I can high-five him.
    “Woohoo!” I shout, smacking his palm with mine. “Go Team Underdog!”
    “Well done,” Damien says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “although it isn’t quite the same when you win by default, is it?”
    I hurry to his side, remembering that A, I’m supposed to be supporting my pretend boyfriend, and B, Damien’s never been a fan of losing.
    “You should come down here more often so we can practise,” Mike says, oblivious to—or choosing to ignore—Damien’s hostility.
    “Okay,” I say, since our Official Mission includes me spending more time with Mike, and if Damien’s around, it’ll help out the Side Mission too, which is to make him jealous.
    “Great,” Damien says, although he sounds anything but pleased. He’s doing an excellent job of playing the possessive boyfriend. “Let us know when you’re free and we’ll both come. I can give you guys some tips.”
    “Awesome. I’d like that.” Mike smiles at Damien, but something about it doesn’t look right. Is there a challenge in his gaze? Before I can figure it out, Mike turns and heads back to the TV.
    Damien lets go of me, checks his phone, and says, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He heads up the stairs and out of sight.
    I grab a cue stick and turn to Noah. “Just you and me, then. Want to show me how it’s done?”
    His lips turn up. “You’re just worried I’m gonna see up your skirt if I stay over here.”
    “I’m not worried about anything actually,” I say as he pushes away from the bar and comes towards me. “You don’t know this, but I do the bend-over test every time I make a skirt. I’m fairly certain no one in this room has seen my undies and that you, Noah Ferreira, are once again messing with me.”
    He stops in front of me, that smile still on his lips. “I like you, Andi. We got off to a rough start, but I definitely think I like you now.”
    “Oh.” I reach self-consciously for my hair and tuck a strand behind my ear. “Well, I guess you’re not that bad either.”
    He laughs. “But you are terrible at pool. You definitely need some help.”
    “And that’s why you’re here,” I tell him as I fetch the white ball. I may as well practise with the balls Damien and Mike left on the table. I lean over, place my hand on the table, and balance the end of the cue stick over my thumb. I line up my shot and slide the cue stick back and forth, trying to judge if I’ve got the angle right.
    “Terrible,” Noah says. “I’ve never seen anything so clumsy.”
    “Well, a little help would be nice.”
    Noah steps around me and leans over the table to adjust my hand. “Move your fingers this way—that’s right—then hold your thumb against your forefinger.”
    “That feels weird.”
    “It’ll work better for you. Trust me. And you need to keep your other arm steady when you’re moving the cue stick. At the moment you’re flapping your elbow around like a chicken