Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“No. I’m not a reporter.” That earns me another smile. Not a patronizing or mocking one, but a real one.
“I—I…”
“You need someone, and I could use a weekend away. I haven’t had a vacation in a very long time. Also, you seem nice, your friend seems nice, and this is the most original idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
“You don’t read romances? They’re always full of stories like this—fake dates and whatnot. Dean, my best friend—the guy who was just with me—reads tons of them. It’s probably where he got the idea. It’s really not that strange. I guess. People pay for companionship all the time.” As soon as I tack that bit on, my face goes scarlet. I can literally feel the blood surging to my cheeks.
“Right,” Gabriel snorts. “That’s not the kind of companionship you have in mind, though, I believe.” He can’t contain his mirth, and he actually laughs, a low deep sound that gives me shivers in some very inappropriate places.
He’s gay. He doesn’t like women. Stop that. Stop reacting to him like that.
Unfortunately, my body isn’t listening. I guess I can’t help my biology. I can’t help that this guy looks like he’d have Grade A genetics or something. Isn’t that what all women are secretly looking for in a mate, at least according to science? If I’m hardwired this way, then can I excuse my hormones? I don’t know. I still feel annoyed with myself. And a little bit ashamed. And slightly hypocritical. I’m tired of guys, and I don’t want them to hit on me. Except for this guy. So what does that make me? Gross? Horrible? I don’t know. I don’t know what all of this makes me, but it’s probably better not to think about it.
“Coffee? Tomorrow? One?” I rattle those questions off faster than the end of a fireworks display.
“Sure. Sounds good.” Gabriel produces his phone from his back pocket.
I rattle off my digits before he changes his mind. Too late, I realize my phone is in the car. I blush again, because how stupid could I be? “I…could you text me your number? I left my phone in the car. I don’t have it.”
“You’ll trust me not to ghost you? This whole night could be fruitless for you if I ditch on you and bail tomorrow. You don’t have much time if the wedding’s in a week. This whole night could really be wasted for you. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?”
I try very hard not to glance over my shoulder at the bar where Dean is probably still standing. I think he has other plans for a good time after this, but of course, I don’t say that. It is the reason I’m here—Gabriel’s right.
“Uh, yeah. Kind of. I mean, yes. I guess. Are you going to ghost me?”
Gabriel’s smile is back, and it’s a nice smile—a smile that reaches his eyes, which are also nice. Just like the rest of him. Fuck. If he doesn’t ditch me, I’m going to be in for a really hard weekend.
“No. I’m not going to ghost you. You don’t know me, but when I give my word, I keep it.”
“And you don’t know me, but I promise I’m not always this weird.”
“It’s okay. Sometimes a little weird is good.”
“Okay.” I don’t have anything else to add to that. What could I possibly add? Adding something would be like adding icing on a cake already heaped with like eight hundred layers of the stuff. Ugh. I actually hate icing. And I hate cake too.
“Okay.”
“Alright.”
“See you tomorrow, then. I trust you’ll send me the address of wherever you want to meet?”
“Yes. I will. As soon as I get my phone.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Before I can make any bigger of a fool of myself, and I’m already feeling like an over iced cake myself now, I turn and flee. I basically walk-run blindly, straight over to where Dean is probably getting his fourth shots.
He turns around, a little surprised to see me, and there’s a big shit-eating grin lighting up his face. “Great timing! Here are your shots. Tequila. Your favorite. Here’s to celebrating our success.”
I choke back a groan. I really don’t like tequila. And this hardly feels like a success of any kind. I feel like I just opened the door to a really big disaster, one where I’m not going to make it through.
As I tip back the first glass, I close my eyes and think about how much Mom and Dad are going to love Gabriel. They’d pretty much love everyone, but I have a feeling they’ll really love him. Of course, that makes me feel worse because he’s a fake boyfriend. I’m paying him. I’m technically kind of his boss. And he will never in a million years be into me. I’m going to break my parents’ hearts when I tell them we’ve ‘broken up’ in a few months.