Page 44 of Not That Into You

I glance at my watch. “I was upstairs for ten minutes. Ten minutes, Cameron.”

“And I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes. Ten minutes, Monica.”

“Accustomed to people jumping to do your bidding?”

“Yes. Now let’s go.”

His mother appears in the foyer. “Cameron.”

He sighs. “Yes?”

“Surely, I taught you better manners than that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Monica, please let’s go.”

“I think she was referring to your overall impatience, genius. And the yelling.”

The words are out of my mouth before I realize they’re probably not what an adoring girlfriend would say. Oh well. The chances of me keeping up with the perfect-girlfriend charade for the entire weekend were slim at best.

I glance over at his mother, but she doesn’t seem bothered by my comment. Instead, she nods. “Indeed. I trust your behavior will improve in time for your father’s party tonight?”

He smiles tightly, says, “Of course,” and pulls me out the door.

Moments later, we’re in Cameron’s Jeep, and although I didn’t think I’d want to get back in a car with him anytime soon, I’m relieved to be leaving the house. Breakfast was an awkward affair with me alternating between making polite conversation with his parents and inhaling my food so I could get out of there as soon as possible.

Cameron, on the other hand, had swept through the kitchen, grabbed an apple, and disappeared upstairs to take a shower without once considering I might not want to be left alone with his family. Or fearing I would drop the girlfriend act and name him for the self-absorbed irritant that he is.

The temptation was real.

I glance over at him. “Where are we going?”

“Lunch.”

“I just ate breakfast.”

“You had a piece of toast and a banana.”

“And?”

“That was a snack, not a meal.”

“Regardless, it’s too early for lunch.”

“Relax, sweetheart. We’re going to a place in Amagansett.”

“Amawhatsit?”

“Amagansett. It’ll take us about forty-five minutes to get there.”

“We’re leaving the Hamptons?”

“No.”

“Okaaaay.” Thank you, Captain Informative. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Would you prefer babe?”

“No.”

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