Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
There is indeed a man with a head of white hair and neat beard lurking beside a sedan while giving us side eye. Along with three people in their late teens or early twenties hanging out beside a hatchback. One sips from a Big Gulp while the other two watch us not so surreptitiously. And the couple with the toddler have paused at the store doors to see what we’re doing. The small child takes this opportunity to shout, “Butt. Butt, butt, butt!”
“Potty jokes are really never not funny,” I say, but my amusement doesn’t last long. “All of this attention makes me itch. The level of interest in you is wild. How do you put up with it?”
He scratches at his stubble. “Me buying some bread and milk wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. But us standing here together when my ex is about to hit town…”
“How did your other girlfriends handle this? Have you had other girlfriends?”
“Say yes to my plan and I’ll tell you everything.” His attention turns to the cart. “I’m here now. Might as well let me load this for you.”
“Go for it.”
He grabs a bag in each hand and gets busy. “Is this all you eat? Frozen meals, breakfast cereal, cheese, and ice cream?”
“Yes. But it’s mostly spite that sustains me.”
“You’ve never met any fresh fruit or vegetables?” he asks with much judgment.
“None that I liked.” I toss back my hair. “Is this you trying to convince me to be your fake girlfriend? Because I got to tell you, the judgmental approach isn’t resonating with me.”
He narrows his gaze on me. “I thought we agreed that we’d both benefit.”
“Eh. Seems like you want it a whole lot more than I do,” I say. “There’s a faint air of desperation to you tonight. Has something happened?”
He frowns. Then he frowns some more.
“Connor, are you okay?”
He sighs and finally says, “I overheard someone at work saying she got delayed, but that her dad is picking her up from the airport Thursday.”
I nod.
“An old friend called this morning; they’re looking to offload their father’s 1969 Dodge Charger that’s been sitting out in the weather for a while. It runs, I mean, the engine is mostly sound. But the exterior needs a lot of work. They’re a popular car and the profit will be worth it.” He stares off at nothing for a moment. “I keep thinking, what if I fly down to Louisville and limp it back here myself? Take my time and do a road trip, you know?”
I nod.
“Which makes no sense because work is busy as fuck and there are things happening this weekend that I want to be here for. Plus that leaves you to deal with Ava solo because I ran for it, which is a dick move. I’ve never run from anything in my life. Apart from Jason York in middle school. That kid was an asshole.” The last of my groceries are loaded into the Jeep and he shuts the back door. His lips rest in a straight and serious line. “I thought about what you said. You were right about me needing to step up my game to make it believable. Dinner once a week won’t work.”
I nod again.
His high, handsome forehead is filled with furrows, the same as last time we talked. But now his thick shoulders are bowed, too. Staggering beneath the weight of small-town expectations. He’s still prom-king, hometown-hero gorgeous. But the ego is missing tonight. There’s a vulnerability to him that’s sort of surprising. And this could all end here. He could tell the gathered townsfolk it was a misunderstanding. His ex jumped to the wrong conclusion, etcetera. That he barely knows me and definitely hasn’t dated me. My name could be cleared. There would doubtless still be some rumormongering, but such is life. People are going to be people wherever you go. That much is without a doubt.
However, unlike him, there’s a good chance I could put this behind me and get back to building my beautiful life by the sea. Do my work and maybe make a few friends and see where this all takes me. Relearn how to socialize and so on. Make an actual commitment to communicate regularly with people and put energy into spending time with kindred spirits.
It could happen. I could put my foot down and insist and make it happen.
But Connor…for some reason, I care. The thought of him being miserable is messing with my head. Though he sure is pretty when he pouts. And he’s right, the fake dating plan could work.
“She messaged me again today,” I say. “Sent me a selfie of her at the Trevi Fountain. Then a shot of a dish of pasta I would die to eat. It was the most perfect-looking carbonara, with just the right amount of parmesan and cracked pepper. The way it made my mouth water. She really is such a bitch.”