This was the difference, she realized. Derek was performing perfection. Christopher was just… Christopher. Real, warm, funny. He made her grandmother laugh. He held Madison’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. He looked at her like she was the only person in the room.
And none of it was real. The thought hit her like cold water. This was all an act. A performance. In two weeks they’d go back to being just friends. And all of this—the hand-holding, the intimate looks, the sleeping wrapped around each other—would stop. The realization made her chest ache.
«Madison? You okay?» Christopher asked quietly, concern in his eyes.
«Fine,» she lied. «Just tired.»
He studied her face for a moment, then excused them both. «Madison needs some air. We’ll be right back.»
He led her out to the restaurant’s garden patio, empty in the December cold.
«What’s wrong?» he asked, turning her to face him.
«Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.» She wrapped her arms around herself. «Derek’s perfect for my sister. But—but there’s no spark. No life. It’s like watching two actors who learned their lines but forgot to feel anything.»
Christopher stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup her face. «And what do we look like?»
«Like something real,» she whispered. «Which is the problem, because it’s not.»
«Madison…»
«We should go back inside,» she said, pulling away before she did something stupid like kiss him. «They’ll wonder where we went.»
Christopher caught her hand, pulling her back. «One of these days, you’re going to let me finish a sentence. One of these days, you’re going to say something I’m ready to hear.»
They stared at each other, the air between them electric.
«Maybe that day is coming sooner than you think,» he said quietly.
Before Madison could respond, the patio door opened, and Andrew stuck his head out. «Everything okay out here? Grandma’s worried you two snuck off to make out.»
«Tell Grandma she’ll have to keep wondering,» Christopher said. But he was smiling as he took Madison’s hand and led her back inside.
As they returned to the table, Madison realized something terrifying. She was falling in love with her fake boyfriend, and she had no idea what to do about it.
Christopher was losing his mind. It was day four of this charade, and he was absolutely, completely losing his mind. He stood in the shower, cold again, trying to get his body under control.
Every morning he woke up with Madison in his arms. Every morning it got harder to let go. Every morning he had to remind himself that this was temporary, that she was only doing this to appease her family, that none of it was real.
Except it felt real. God, it felt so real. The way she fit against him. The little sighs she made in her sleep, the way her hand would find his chest and rest there, right over his heart, like she was checking to make sure it was still beating.
It was. Barely. Because she was killing him.
He turned off the water and stared at his reflection. «You’re in love with your best friend. You’ve been in love with her for three years. You agreed to this insane plan because you’re an idiot who can’t say no to her. And now you’re in hell.»
A very specific kind of hell where he got to hold her, touch her, pretend to be hers, but couldn’t actually have her.
«Christopher? You okay in there?» Madison’s voice came through the door. «You’ve been in there for twenty minutes.»
«Fine. Just thinking.»
«About what?»
You. Always you. Everything is about you.
«Work stuff,» he lied.
Later that afternoon, Madison’s mother declared it was time for Family Game Day, which in the Carter family meant chaos disguised as bonding.
«We’re playing charades, then Pictionary, then Truth or Dare,» her mother announced, setting up the living room like a game show set.
«Truth or Dare,» Madison repeated. «Mum, we’re not twelve.»
«It’s tradition. Remember, we played at Layla’s graduation party.»
Madison did remember. It had ended with her cousin trying to do a handstand and breaking a lamp.
«This will be fun,» her grandmother said, settling into the best chair with a glass of wine that was definitely too large. «I want to see Christopher’s competitive side.»
Christopher, sitting next to Madison on the couch, leaned over and whispered, «Should I be worried?»
«Terrified,» she whispered back. «My family takes games very seriously.»
«Define seriously.»
«My dad once didn’t speak to his brother for a month over a disputed Scrabble word.»
«Your dad’s not here, right?»
«Business trip. You’re safe. For now.»
The first game, charades, was predictably chaotic. Derek acted out heart surgery with the intensity of someone actually performing the operation. Layla guessed every movie wrong and blamed it on Derek’s «unclear hand gestures.» Andrew treated it like an investigation, taking notes.
When it was Christopher’s turn, he got «romance novel.» Madison watched in amazement as her usually stoic, controlled best friend transformed. He clutched his chest dramatically, gazed into the distance with exaggerated longing, pretended to write passionately in the air, then swept an invisible person into his arms for a theatrical kiss. Everyone was laughing. Even Derek cracked a genuine smile.
«Romance novel!» Madison shouted.
Christopher pointed at her triumphantly. «See, we’re connected.»
«That’s because you were basically mocking my entire career,» she said, but she was smiling.
«I would never mock your career. I was honouring it with enthusiasm.»
During Pictionary, things got competitive. Christopher turned out to be a terrible artist but an excellent guesser, especially when Madison was drawing. She’d barely sketched two lines before he was shouting answers.
«How did you get coffee shop from two lines?» Layla demanded.
«I know how she thinks,» Christopher said simply, and Madison’s heart did that annoying flutter thing again.
Then came Truth or Dare.
«This is going to be a disaster,» Madison muttered.
«Probably,» Christopher agreed. «But at least it’ll be entertaining.»
Her grandmother went first, spinning the bottle. It landed on Derek.
«Truth or Dare, young man?»
«Truth,» Derek said confidently.
«Boring,» Andrew yelled.
«What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for Layla?» her grandmother asked.
Derek thought for a moment. «I arranged for her birthday dinner at her favourite restaurant, reserved the private room, had them prepare her favourite meal, brought flowers.»
It sounded nice, planned, appropriate.
«Christopher,» her grandmother continued. «What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done for Madison?»
Christopher didn’t hesitate. «Last month she was having a terrible writing day. Nothing was working, and she was ready to throw her laptop out the window. I knew she needed to clear her head, so I showed up at her apartment at midnight with a blanket, two thermoses of hot chocolate, and drove her to that spot outside the city where you can see the stars.»
Madison’s breath caught. That had actually happened. She’d been stuck on a chapter, frustrated and exhausted, and he’d just appeared. They’d laid on that blanket, stared at the stars, and talked about everything and nothing.
«We stayed until sunrise,» Christopher continued, his eyes on Madison. «And by the time we got back, she knew exactly how to fix her chapter. She wrote it in four hours straight and said it was the best thing she’d ever written.»
The room had gone quiet.
«That’s…» her mother’s voice was thick with emotion. «That’s beautiful.»
«That’s not fair,» Layla said, but she was smiling. «How are we supposed to compete with that?»
The bottle spun again. This time it landed on Christopher.
«Truth or Dare?» Andrew asked, leaning forward with interest.
«Dare.» Christopher met his gaze evenly. «I’m not afraid.»
Andrew grinned wickedly. «I dare you to tell us the exact moment you knew you were in love with Madison.»
Madison’s heart stopped.
«Andrew, that’s not a dare, that’s a truth question,» her mother protested.
«Fine, I dare him to tell the truth about when he fell in love with her.»
Christopher was quiet for a moment. Madison could feel everyone watching them, waiting. Her palms were sweating.
«Three years ago,» Christopher said finally, his voice quiet but clear. «She was at my apartment. We were watching some disaster of a movie she’d chosen—terrible plot, worse acting—and there was this scene where the main character did something completely illogical. Madison just lost it, started ranting about plot holes and character motivation, using her hands to gesture, getting increasingly passionate about this ridiculous movie.»
He turned to look at her, and Madison felt pinned by his gaze.
«And I realized I could listen to her talk about anything for the rest of my life, could watch her get excited about stories forever. That everything was better when she was in the room. That I was better when she was in the room.» He paused. «I didn’t tell her because I was afraid of ruining what we had. Took me three years to work up the courage.»
Madison couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that movie night had happened. That conversation had happened. She remembered it clearly. It had been some terrible sci-fi film, and she’d gotten way too invested in criticizing the plot. Had he really been in love with her that long, or was he just an impossibly good actor?
«That’s…» her mother was actually crying. «That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.»
Layla was looking at Derek with an expression Madison couldn’t quite read.
«My turn,» her grandmother announced, spinning the bottle. It landed on Madison. «Truth or Dare, sweetheart?»
«Truth,» Madison said, her voice shaky.
«When did you know you loved him?»
Madison looked at Christopher, at those blue eyes that saw through her, at the face she knew better than her own, at the man who’d been her best friend for five years and who she’d been slowly, terrifyingly falling in love with without even realizing it.
«I think I always knew,» she said softly. «I just wasn’t ready to admit it, because loving him felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Once you jump, there’s no going back.»
«And you jumped,» her grandmother pressed.
«I jumped.» Madison’s eyes never left Christopher’s. «I’m still jumping.»
The air between them was electric. Christopher’s hand found hers, threading their fingers together, and Madison felt like her heart might actually burst out of her chest.
«Okay, this is getting too emotional for me,» Andrew announced. «Who wants pizza? I’m buying.»
The spell broke. Everyone started talking about pizza toppings, and someone turned on music, and the moment passed. But later, when they were finally alone in their apartment, Christopher stopped Madison in the hallway.
«How much of that was true?» he asked quietly.
«How much of yours was true?» she countered.
«All of it.»
Madison’s heart stuttered. «Chris, I know, wrong time, wrong circumstances. We’re supposed to be pretending.»
He stepped closer, and she could feel the warmth radiating from him. «But Madison, I need you to know, everything I’ve said to your family, every word about how I feel about you—I wasn’t acting.»
«We can’t do this,» she whispered, even as her body swayed toward him.
«I know. We’ll ruin everything.»
«I know.»
«We should go to bed. Separate sides. Rebuild the wall.»
«We should.»
Neither of them moved. Finally, Christopher stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
«You’re right. We should maintain boundaries. Keep this professional.»
«Professional fake dating,» Madison said, and almost laughed at how absurd it sounded.
«Exactly.»
They built the pillow wall in silence, stacking it higher than ever. That night, Madison lay awake for hours, staring at those stupid pillows, acutely aware of Christopher on the other side, and wondered how much longer they could keep pretending that their hearts weren’t already completely entangled.
Morning came too early. Madison woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the distinct lack of warmth beside her. She rolled over to find Christopher’s side of the bed empty, the pillow wall completely demolished once again, pillows scattered everywhere like evidence of a very civilized battle. She could hear movement in the kitchen. The smell of coffee drifted through the apartment.
Madison pulled on a light sundress—it was surprisingly warm for December—and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Christopher stood at the stove, making what appeared to be pancakes, wearing grey sweatpants and nothing else. His back was to her, and Madison took a moment to appreciate the view: the broad shoulders, the defined muscles, the way his body moved with casual grace. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice him turn around until he spoke.
«Morning,» he said, and his voice was rough, like he hadn’t quite woken up yet. His hair was messy, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and his blue eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
«Morning,» she managed. «You’re making pancakes?»
«Your mom mentioned you love them.» He turned back to the stove, flipping one expertly. «Figured I’d practice my domestic boyfriend skills.»
Madison moved to pour herself coffee, acutely aware of how small the kitchen suddenly felt. Christopher was right there, close enough to touch, the warmth from his body radiating across the small space. She reached for the sugar at the same moment he turned to grab a plate. They collided, not hard, but enough that she stumbled slightly. His hands shot out to steady her, gripping her waist, and suddenly they were pressed together, her hands flat against his bare chest.
Madison’s brain short-circuited. She could feel his heart beating under her palms, fast and strong. She could feel the heat of his skin.
«Sorry,» she whispered, but she didn’t move. Neither did he.
Christopher’s hands were still on her waist, his fingers spreading wide, thumbs brushing the bare skin where her dress had ridden up slightly. His eyes dropped to her lips, then back up, and Madison saw something dangerous flash across his face.
«Your perfume,» he said, his voice dropping an octave. «I need to know what perfume you’re wearing.»
Before she could answer, before she could even breathe, he moved. One moment she was standing, the next she was sitting on the counter, Christopher standing between her legs, his body pressed against hers. His hands slid from her waist to her hair, fingers threading through the loose waves.
«Chris, what are you—» she started, but her voice died as he leaned in.
He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he buried his face in her neck, breathing her in, and Madison felt like every nerve ending in her body had caught fire.
«This perfume,» he murmured against her skin, his lips barely brushing her pulse point. «It’s been driving me insane for days.»
«It’s just—» she gasped as he pressed a kiss to her neck. «It’s just vanilla. Nothing special.»
«Liar.» Another kiss, this one higher, along her jaw. «Everything about you is special.»
His hands were still in her hair, tilting her head to give him better access. Madison’s hands gripped his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. Her body was screaming for the latter. He kissed a path up her neck, along her jawline, to that sensitive spot just below her ear. Madison shivered, a small sound escaping her throat that she’d be embarrassed about later.
«Chris,» she breathed. «Someone could walk in.»
«Don’t care,» he muttered against her skin, though she felt him smile. «The pancakes are burning.»
That got his attention. Christopher pulled back, and Madison immediately mourned the loss of contact. He turned off the stove, dealing with the slightly overdone pancakes, while Madison tried to remember how to breathe normally. Her entire body was trembling. Her skin felt too hot. And she was acutely aware that if he’d asked, if he’d moved just a few inches and actually kissed her mouth, she would have let him. Hell, she would have helped.
Christopher turned back to her, and something in his expression made her breath catch. He looked wrecked, conflicted, like he was fighting a war with himself.
«I shouldn’t have done that,» he said.
«Probably not.»
«There’s no one here to fool. No audience.»
«I know.»
«So why did I do it?»
Madison slid off the counter, her legs unsteady. «I don’t know, Chris. You tell me.»
He stared at her, jaw tight. «Because I’ve been thinking about kissing your neck since the first morning we woke up tangled together. Because the smell of your perfume makes me lose my mind. Because every time I look at you, I forget this is supposed to be fake.»
Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it.
«We can’t do this.»
«I know.»
«We’re friends. Best friends.»
«I know that too.»
«If we cross this line—»
«Madison.» He stepped closer, and she backed up until she hit the counter. «We crossed that line days ago. We’re just both too scared to admit it.»
«What happens when this is over?» she whispered. «When Christmas ends and we go back to real life?»
«I don’t know.» His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. «But I know I don’t want to go back to pretending you’re just my friend because you haven’t been just my friend for a very long time.»
Madison opened her mouth to respond, but her phone buzzed insistently on the counter. She grabbed it, grateful for the interruption and hating it at the same time.
Mom: Family outing today. Ice skating. Be ready in an hour.
«Ice skating,» Madison said, her voice not quite steady. «Your favorite.»
Christopher groaned. «I can’t ice skate.»
«What? Mr. Perfect-at-Everything can’t ice skate?»
«I grew up in San Diego. We had beaches, not ice rinks.» He ran a hand through his hair. «This is going to be embarrassing.»
Despite everything—the tension, the confusion, the want—Madison laughed. «Oh, this I have to see.»
An hour later, they stood at the entrance to the outdoor ice rink in the town square. Christmas lights were strung overhead. Holiday music played through speakers, and families glided across the ice with varying degrees of grace. Christopher looked at the ice like it was a personal enemy.
«It’s not that hard,» Madison said, lacing up her skates. «You just glide.»
«I’m going to fall and break something important.»
«Your pride?»
«I was thinking my spine, but sure, that too.»
Madison stood, wobbling slightly on her skates. Christopher followed suit, immediately gripping the wall like his life depended on it.
«Come on.» She held out her hand. «I’ll help you.»
«This is humiliating.»
«This is adorable.» She tugged him onto the ice. «Just hold on to me.»
Christopher did, both hands gripping her waist as she slowly skated backward, pulling him along. His legs were stiff, his movements jerky, and he looked absolutely terrified.
«Relax,» Madison said, trying not to laugh. «You’re too tense.»
«I’m about to die on frozen water. I have a right to be tense.»
«You’re not going to die.»
«You don’t know that.»
A child, maybe seven years old, zoomed past them effortlessly, doing a little spin. Christopher glared after the child. «That’s just showing off.»
Madison couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, and Christopher’s expression softened.
«You’re enjoying this,» he accused.
«Immensely.» She spun around so she was skating forward, now holding both his hands. «Come on. Just push off gently. I’ve got you.»
They made slow progress around the rink, Christopher gradually getting more confident. He only almost fell twice, catching himself both times by gripping Madison tighter.
«See,» she said. «You’re getting it.»
«I’m getting frostbite.»
«That’s what I’m getting.»
Across the rink, Madison spotted her family. Her mother waved enthusiastically. Derek and Layla were skating in perfect synchronized movements like they’d choreographed it. Andrew was attempting to skate backward and failing spectacularly.
«They’re watching us,» Christopher muttered.
«Then we should give them a show.» Madison let go of one of his hands and moved to his side, threading her arm through his. «Just follow my lead.»
They skated together, slowly finding a rhythm, and somewhere along the way, Christopher stopped looking at his feet and started looking at her.
«You’re smiling,» she said.
«Against my better judgment, I’m having fun.»
«Because you’re spending time on frozen water with me?»
«Because I’m spending time with you.» He pulled her closer. «The frozen water is just a terrifying bonus.»
They made it around the rink twice before Christopher’s skate caught on something. He stumbled, arms windmilling, and Madison tried to catch him but instead got pulled down. They landed in a heap on the ice, Christopher on his back with Madison sprawled across his chest. For a moment they just lay there, stunned. Then Madison felt Christopher’s chest shaking and realized he was laughing—really laughing, the kind of uninhibited joy she rarely saw from him. She started laughing too, and soon they were both lying on the ice laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe, completely oblivious to the other skaters going around them or her family skating over with concern.
«Are you two OK?» her mother asked.
«Perfect,» Christopher managed, still grinning. «Just working on our synchronized falling routine.»
Madison looked down at him, at his bright eyes and genuine smile, at the way he was looking at her like she was the only person in the world, and she realized with startling clarity she was completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with him. Not falling. Already fallen. The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it felt like coming home.