Page 75 of Hate to Love You

“Oh, come on, Mrs. D,” Brody cajoles teasingly. “You should join us. It’ll be fun.”

Not looking swayed in the least, Mom shakes her head. “Nope. I’m going home. But you kids have fun, okay?” She pulls me in for another hug. “I love you, Natalie. And I’m so proud of you.” She kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, “I think you have a real keeper here. Brody’s a wonderful guy. The best one so far.”

“He is,” I agree, gulping down the riot of emotion her words unleash in me.

“He likes you a lot,” she continues. “I can tell.”

I blink, unable to muster a response as a thick lump rises in my throat.

Only now do I wish I’d told her the truth from the beginning. Then she would know that Brody can’t possibly have feelings for me because our entire relationship is a sham. This isn’t real. He doesn’t like me. And I don’t like him.

“Ready to go?” Brody asks, interrupting my turmoiled thoughts.

I smile and say, “Yup,” while shaking off the strange emotions coursing through me. This is my birthday, and I want to have fun. With Brody, I realize. I enjoy spending time with him. There’s an easy give-and-take to our relationship. With him, I’m never worried about being anyone other than myself.

We all head to a bar a few streets over from campus. Rowdy’s is a hole-in-the-wall dive bar where they serve cheap pitchers of beer and shots. Every once in a while, they kick it up a notch with a local band. A lot of hockey players from school hang out here, which means that there are a ton of puck bunnies floating around looking for a guy to latch onto. Since I’ve gone out of my way to not be one of those, this isn’t my usual scene.

We get to the door, and Brody fist bumps the bouncer as they exchange small talk. Other than flicking his eyes in my direction, the guy doesn’t say a word to me.

It may only be nine o’clock, but the bar is already jam-packed. There are back slaps and chin lifts of acknowledgement as Brody grabs my hand and tows me through the crowd. Plenty of girls smile and wave, greeting him by name. He waves back but keeps it moving.

In the past, whenever I’d see Brody out at a party, he’d be surrounded by a bevy of females. Usually there’s one tucked under each brawny arm. And it’s never the same girl. More like a revolving door of them. Even on campus, he has an entourage.

And yet, since we’ve gotten together, I haven’t seen him with anyone else. For some reason, the girls have been keeping their distance. He doesn’t encourage or flirt with them. Even with the hostess from earlier.

That was all her doing. Bitch.

Whenever we’re together, my hand is firmly tucked in his. It’s almost like he’s afraid I’m going to take off if given half a chance. Which in the beginning—I’m not going to lie—had been the plan. If he’s not holding my hand, his arm is casually slung around my shoulders, anchoring me to him. For a guy who never wanted a girlfriend, he sure does enjoy having someone at his side.

Brody grabs us each a beer, and we join the table with everyone from the restaurant, along with a few of Brody’s teammates who meander over. We do a couple more shots, and when Zara’s favorite song comes on, she jumps up, pulling me onto the dance floor. We carve out a small space in the middle of the chaos and let loose. Normally I’m not a drinker. Sure, I’ll have a beer or two, but usually not more than that. Tonight has been an exception. I feel light and happy. Every time the chorus plays, Zara and I throw our hands up in the air and shout out the lyrics.

One song bleeds into three or four. I catch a glimpse of Brody from across the room. He’s taller and broader than most guys. Unsurprisingly, there’s a girl at his elbow. Her gaze is pinned to him. Her lips are moving, trying to engage him in conversation, but his eyes are firmly locked on mine.

Satisfaction floods through me because he’s not paying her the least bit of attention.

Zara moves a little closer. “What’s going on between you two?”

I shrug. My eyes stay fastened to Brody as the tempo of my heartbeat picks up. “I have no idea.” I never expected for our arrangement to morph into something else. But I think that’s what’s happening.

“Are you two sleeping together?”

Surprised by the question, my eyes cut to hers, and I shake my head. “No. We haven’t.”

It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. It’ll only end up confusing matters between us.

She glances toward the table again. “I’ve never seen Brody into a girl before.” Her lips quirk. “I think you have a smitten kitten on your hands.”

My gaze reluctantly slides back to his. A little zing of pleasure slices through me when I find him watching me.

Sounding devilish, Zara says, “Let’s drive the boys crazy.”

Even though I groan, my lips twitch upward. I know exactly what she has in mind.

Without waiting for agreement, Zara grabs my hand and dances around me until her front is aligned with my backside. She grabs my other hand and holds them both over my head. Slowly she traces her fingertips along my arms and ribcage until they settle on my hips.

I throw a glance over my shoulder to see if Brody’s attention is still focused on me. I almost laugh at the way his eyes have widened and his jaw has gone slack. Such a typical guy response. It’s ridiculous the way two girls dancing, laying their hands on one another, can bring most men to their knees.

Closing my eyes, I sway my hips and feel the beat of the music as it pours through me. Once the last chords have faded, Zara and I separate. Instead of heading back to the table, we stay out for a few more songs until we’re both in need of liquid refreshment. We push our way back to the table. As soon as I’m within three feet of Brody, his arm shoots out, and he nabs my fingers, reeling me to him until I’m flush against his rock-solid body.

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