Fake Dating The Bad Boy

Chapter 6

LANDON’S POV

The roar of my motorcycle fills the night as I tear down the open road. The wind howls past me like a phantom screaming in my ears. The city lights blur behind me, fading into the distance as I push the engine harder, faster—anything to drown out the one thought that keeps crawling into my head like a f*****g disease.

Clarissa.

I scowl, gripping the handlebars tighter. My fingers twitch like they want to strangle something. Preferably myself, for letting her invade my head like this. It’s f*****g stupid. She’s nothing to me. Just some annoying girl with a sharp tongue and too much attitude for her own good. And yet—

I see her face.

Brown hair that catches the light just right, like liquid fire. Eyes that burn with a fierceness I can’t stand, can’t look away from. That kiss.... f**k! The way her lips felt against mine was something else.

My jaw tightens and my chest feels like it's wrapped in barbed wire. This is exactly why I don’t think about women. I don’t do attachments. I don’t do feelings.

I’m Reo. A goddamn rockstar. Women are disposable. They throw themselves at me, and I take what I want. That’s it. That’s all they’re good for. So why the hell am I thinking about her?

“f**k,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.

I twist the throttle, letting the bike move forward, the vibrations rattling my bones, but the thoughts don’t go away. I need a distraction. Something, anything—

And then I see her.

A woman standing beside a sleek, black car. Her hood is popped open and her hazard lights flash against the darkness. She’s waving an arm, looking helpless, and I sigh. f*****g great. The universe must think it’s funny, throwing distractions my way like this. But my bike’s already slowing before I make the conscious decision to stop.

I pull over, kicking the stand down before pulling off my helmet. My hair’s a mess, but I don’t give a s**t. The woman turns, and I get a good look at her.

She’s hot.

Like, legs-for-days, movie-star hot. Perfectly styled waves of blonde hair frame her delicate face, and her lips are painted a soft pink, matching the perfectly manicured nails clutching her phone.

But her eyes? They give her away.

Sharp. Calculating. Not a single trace of genuine panic.

I smirk, already knowing where this is going.

“Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver!” she gushes, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. “I think my engine just died out of nowhere. I have no idea what’s wrong.”

I tilt my head, playing along for a second. “Yeah? You check under the hood?”

She bites her lip. “I—I mean, I popped it open, but I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

I huff out a chuckle, shaking my head. Classic.

Still, I crouch down beside the car and pretend to examine the engine. It takes me less than ten seconds to find the problem. I reach in, reconnecting a single loose plug, and just like that, the issue is solved. Too easy. I straighten, wiping my hands on my jeans before turning back to her.

She watches me, smiling like she thinks she’s got me wrapped around her little finger. Poor thing. She has no idea who she’s dealing with.

“How’s your time in Casper been so far?” she asks casually, like she’s just making conversation.

I smirk. “Oh, it’s been... interesting.”

She tilts her head. “Met anyone special?”

I chuckle, crossing my arms over my chest. “You know, you’re pretty good at this. Really selling the whole ‘damsel in distress’ act. But you got a little too cocky.”

Her smile falters and I can see the confusion flashing in her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

I step closer, dropping my voice. “Pinky.”

She stiffens.

Bingo.

I let the name hang in the air, watching the color drain from her face.

She's shocked. She can't believe that I know who she is. How stupid does she think I am? She must think all rockstars are airheads.

“You really thought I wouldn’t recognize you?” i said in a teasing tone.

Her lips part, but no words come out. She looks like she just got caught sneaking into the boys’ locker room. Busted.

I take another step, invading her space. “You followed me here, hoping to dig up something juicy for your little magazine, didn’t you? Hoping to catch Reo in some kind of scandal or to know something juicy? Maybe about my love life? Typical"

She swallows hard, but quickly recovers. She lifts her chin and forces on a neutral expressio . “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Right. Because your car just happened to break down in the middle of nowhere, right where I’d be passing?”

She opens her mouth, then shuts it. Her fingers clutch the strap of her purse, like she’s debating whether to run. I tilt my head, enjoying the hint of frustration in her gaze.

“You’re wasting your time,” I say smoothly. “Next time you fake being stranded, at least put a little more effort into it.”

Her nostrils flare and her lips press together in a tight line. “You’re an asshole.”

I grin. “And you’re a bad liar.”

With that, I turn on my heel, walking back toward my bike without a second glance. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for her.

I throw my leg over the seat, pull on my helmet, and start the engine. The motorcycle rumbles beneath me.

Without another word, I kick off, leaving her standing there in the glow of her useless hazard lights, watching me disappear into the night.

She thought she could play me.

She thought wrong.