Page 28 of Text Appeal

Joyce smiles dreamily. “Like I said…he was fun.”

Meanwhile, Martha takes her time answering. And the look she gives me…I still can’t read it for shit. At long last she rests back in her chair and says, “I don’t know. You and Connor might be good for each other. I suppose we’ll just have to see.”

Me: Can you come over early? We need to practice being a couple.

Connor: Which involves what exactly?

Me: You’ll see.

Connor knocks on my door at a quarter past seven. He’s holding the most beautiful bouquet. Dahlias, daisies, delphinium, and many more in a myriad of colors. The scent is heavenly. I don’t know what it cost, but it couldn’t have been cheap. The way my heart swells and imaginary orchestral music kicks in. No one has ever given me anything like this. Not that I am being given it now. I am not his real girlfriend, and the flowers are just a prop. But they sure are pretty.

“Riley?” he asks when I am silent too long.

I shake off the weirdness and take a step back. “Hey. Yes. Hi. Come on in.”

“I parked out front and walked down to the florist. Gave everyone a chance to see them. I used to buy her flowers, and you said to act as into you as I was with her,” he says. “That hasn’t changed, has it?”

“No.” I rush about searching for a vase. An empty cookie jar is the best I can manage. “Good work.”

He jerks his chin.

Tonight is going to be big. Meeting an ex is dangerous. There must be no doubt that you are the better option for the person you’re dating. To demonstrate my immense suitability, I am wearing a navy silk halter-neck top with blue jeans and sandals with a block heel. It’s seaside boujie. My pale blue hair is hanging loose, silver hoops are in my ears, and my makeup is all about the smoky eyes.

As for Connor, my fingers itch to mess up his golden hair for some reason. No idea why. It must be the chaos monsterin me. But few could wear boots, blue jeans, and a button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arms half as well. The way he leans into the arm porn is a gift to humankind. I know I for one appreciate it deeply.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “How do we practice being a couple?”

“We need to work on touching.”

“Touching?”

“Yes,” I say. “We did fine the other night with the impromptu hand-holding. But there are going to be way more people at this party tonight and some of them are bound to be hostile, right?”

“I guess so. You don’t just want to see what comes naturally?”

“Is it going to come naturally what with us faking?”

He frowns.

“Besides,” I say, “the last time we did no preparation, I incinerated my insides with chili and then bitched at you about it for over an hour.”

He removes his hands from his pockets and crosses his arms over his chest instead. Like his guard is up. There’s something going on with him tonight. “I’d prefer not to repeat that.”

“Me too.”

“Okay. What are you thinking?”

“Well, we have to communicate to the town that we’re in love.” I stand in front of him. “What level of PDA are you comfortable with, Connor?”

A whole lot of nothing from him.

“Come on,” I say. “Be brave and touch me. I’m neither poisonous nor covered in spikes.”

“Yeah. But do you bite?”

“No. Why? What have you heard?”

No laughter. He’s still too busy hesitating.

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