Page 12 of Not That Into You

“Not since college when Scott Bower gave me a pot brownie without telling me what was in it.”

“Cameron, I’m not going to pretend to be your girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t owe you this big a favor. I don’t owe you any favors.”

“I said I’d pay you. Just name your price. I’m sure there’s something you could use extra money for. Rent, office space, a new wardrobe.”

Just as quickly as the thought of finally taking a trip abroad floats through my mind, I dismiss it. I’m not going to be Cameron’s paid girlfriend.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“First,” I say while holding up a finger, “I don’t need your money. And second” I say, holding up another finger, “it would never work.” Dropping my hand to my lap, I look down at my old pair of jeans. “I’d never fit in. Your family would know immediately we weren’t together.”

“I think we could convince them.”

“Please. I’m nothing like the women you date.”

He smiles. “I didn’t realize you followed my dating life.”

“I don’t.”

“Sounds like you do.”

The urge to grind my teeth is strong. “It’s an educated guess, Cameron. I’m not tall, blonde, and willowy. And I don’t come from money.”

He shrugs. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Says the guy who wouldn’t be subjected to the whispers and stares.” A sudden thought makes me sit up straight. “Wait. Is this a Mystic Pizza situation?”

“A Mystic Pizza situation?”

“Yeah, are you trying to Julia Roberts me?”

He cocks his head. “You don’t really have the hair for it.”

“You’re the rich boy trying to piss off his parents by bringing home the poor townie.”

He snorts. “You’re hardly a townie.”

I lean forward. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re trying to punish your mom because she’s always meddling in your love life.”

“I am not punishing my mother.”

I shake my head and lean back in my chair. “Of course you are.”

Cameron leans forward. “Bringing you home to my parents is not some kind of ploy to piss them off. I don’t care that you don’t come from money. It doesn’t matter. If anything, it makes you more attractive.”

I snort. “Good to know you find me attractive.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know you’re attractive, Monica. I don’t know why you try to hide behind those glasses, but it doesn’t work.”

My nostrils flare as my heart skips a beat. Screw him. I’m not hiding behind my glasses. And since when has he found me attractive?

Dammit! I do not care what Cameron Stanhope thinks of me.

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