Page 42 of Noticing Natalie

“I know, Nat,” her tone is soft. “And he’ll know that about you too, in time. How about you get dressed up for tonight? And then next time demand details before accepting a date.”

This all sounds too reasonable to argue with, so I don’t. “Fine. Slutty black dress, it is.”

“It’s barely even sexy,” she giggles. “All your bits are covered. It’s just designed to show off that amazing bod you keep hidden under cat sweaters and baggy jeans.”

“I love my baggy jeans.”

“I know, and I love you for it. Now, put the dress on, slick your hair up into a high ponytail and swipe on some mascara. You need nothing else; you’re a straight-up knock-out without even trying.”

Tears sting my eyes. Bianca has been my best friend and biggest cheerleader for as long as I can remember. And I’ve never needed her more than I do at this moment.

“OK, I’ll do that.”

“And stop crying!”

She knows me too well. “I’ll try.”

“Call me tomorrow. I want every single detail.”

I put my phone down and pick up the not-too-sexy-black dress. It’s figure-hugging, with a high neckline and a deep-v at the back that makes wearing a bra impossible. It’s also shorter and tighter than what I usually wear, but Bianca is right. All my bits are covered and I look hot with it on. Worthy of dating a superstar soccer player, even? With a sigh and a grumble, I follow my best friend’s instructions and get ready for a date with my fake boyfriend. And hope that when I’m done, at the very least, I can look the part.

CHAPTER 12

“Natalia! Your boyfriend is here!”

What in the holy heck? Matthew is here? At my house?

I put my heels on in a panic, hoping that my aging grandmother has mistaken Jerry for Matthew, and that, in fact, the sporting superstar isn’t currently at my front door and at the mercy of my nosy Yia-Yia.

“Coming!” I stumble down the hallway, wobbling slightly in the heels that I’d worn once and discarded into the too-hard recesses of my wardrobe. What a time to bring them back into rotation. “Yia-Yia, I think you’re a bit confused. Matthew isn’t here—”

I stop, mouth hanging open at the picture in front of me. Sitting in my living room is Matthew. On the couch, in the middle, with my mum and grandmother flanking him on either side. And is that my baby photo album in his hands? How long has he been here?

“New Girl!” Matthew beams up. “You look gorgeous.”

The compliment throws me, and I stutter into silence. All my words no longer make sense in my brain.

“You look beautiful, Natalia,” Yia-Yia confirms, a twinkle in her eye. “And she was a beautiful baby.” She draws Matthew’s attention back to the photos in front of him and he obediently follows her lead, ooh-ing and aah-ing in all the right places.

As for me, I’m frozen in place by the plateau they make. The burly man—who looks drool-worthy in his black pants and blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off his toned and tanned forearms—sandwiched between the two most important people in the world to me. Both of whom are gazing at him like he’s the answer to their every prayer. Even my even-keeled mum seems to have been taken in by Matthew’s star power and is giggling away like a schoolgirl. It’s all too much.

“Should we go?” I blurt out, the first words I’ve spoken in a long, long while.

The three new besties look up at me, alarmed, and I flush. I know I’m behaving strangely, but having my fake boyfriend cozy up with my real family is a recipe for disaster.

Matthew looks at his watch. “I think we should. Sorry I can’t stay and look at more photos.” And weirdly, his remorse looks genuine. Like he’s actually regretting having to leave the five more volumes of photo albums laid out on the coffee table in front of him.

“It’s OK.” Yia-Yia pinches his cheek and I groan. “You can come back soon and see the rest.”

Problem solved (apparently), I pull him off the couch and rush us towards the door.

“It was nice meeting you,” he yells over his shoulder, giving me a curious look. “I’ll be back soon to taste your moussaka.”

“We look forward to it,” my traitor mum yells back and I all but push him out the door in an effort to end their bonding session.

“Really, Matthew? You do know we’re fake dating. Playing nice with the family isn’t part of the job description.”

He has the nerve to look wounded at this, and I feel a twinge of guilt. Even if he’s just my pretend boyfriend, it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be nice to my family. But it also doesn’t hurt to have some boundaries in place, and that’s all I’m trying to do. To protect their hearts…as well as mine.

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