Page 2 of The Guy Who Fake Dated Me

Speaking of programming, I stood and checked the time on my phone. Angela had had a couple of days to poke around on her new website, so I moved to my desk and settled into my outrageously expensive office chair.

As a website designer, I figured I should be comfortable if I was going to sit in front of a computer for eight to ten hours a day.

I’d met Angela on the ferry up to Big Bear. She was starting a business similar to the subscription box model I was working on, only instead of focusing on plus-sized women, she planned to provide clothing options, via a monthly package, to the smaller-sized women of the world.

To be honest, the first time she’d complained about how difficult it was to find clothes that worked on her rail-thin frame, I’d rolled my eyes at her tragic story, but when she’d showed me some pictures of how shirts and pants fit her—or, more appropriately, didn’t fit—I had empathized.

There were plenty of websites offering a monthly wardrobe box, but mine was going to be different. Instead of having clothes that were merely the right size, I was going to provide an array of models who had tried on the outfits before I offered them to the other women on the site so subscribers could see how they would fit.

No two women’s bodies were exactly the same. For instance, my friend Nanette and I were technically the same dress size, but my chest outmeasured hers by several inches, while her hips were wider than mine. We could order the same shirt and have two very different experiences wearing it.

Angela’s plan was similar to my business model but different enough that we weren’t going to step on each other’s toes.

I opened my email on the middle screen and smiled when I saw Angela’s reply to my latest mock-up. She’d loved the layout and the colors. Easy to use. Intuitive checkout system. Just a few bugs and three things she wanted changed.

Easy.

Two other clients had also contacted me about their projects, and after a few minutes, I’d gotten sucked into my computer.

I tolerated the programming aspect of design because I adored the outcome. When I spun up the front end of a website for the first time—the view a customer would see when they visited—I got the biggest thrill. I could make it perfect, and that made me happy.

My phone buzzed, and I jerked out of coding and back into reality.

I’d expected Brooke to call fifteen or twenty minutes after I’d sat down, but when I glanced at the corner of my monitor, I saw that it had been over an hour. What had distracted her? I swiped my phone to life, but instead of Brooke’s name, I found a text from Logan.

His grinning face beamed up at me from the little circle by his name. His dark eyes, dark stylish hair, and square jaw were enough to make a girl weak in the knees. Not to mention the smirk that almost always resided in the left corner of his lips.

I let out a pathetic sigh and allowed myself to remember how he’d made me feel up in Big Bear. By mutual consent, there hadn’t been anything serious between us, but I’d had more fun in those weeks than I’d had in years.

Partly because we’d decided that there was no pressure. No wondering if we’d keep dating after I went home. No obsessing over the question of if I liked him or if I liked-liked him. No attachment.

At least that had been the plan. My heart had become a little more hooked on him than I’d anticipated.

Not enough for me to go running back to Alaska where dogs were the size of bears and bears the size of cars. Even if there were a bunch of amazing people up there. Nope. It had been fun, and now I’d moved on.

I winced at the declaration, knowing it was now an affirmation that I said in the mirror each morning in an attempt to keep myself from falling for the guy.

We’d been texting every day since I’d gotten back.

Not because there was anything between us, but because we liked to have fun.

Really.

I tapped on the text.

Logan:I have a new challenge for today.

Logan always made things interesting.

Victoria:Oh yeah?

Logan:Yeah. Instead of just saying what we did today, we have to make it sound dramatic.

I raised my eyebrows.

Victoria:???

Three dots bounced on my screen as he typed a reply. Something stirred in my stomach, but I told myself it was the apple I’d eaten earlier. There was no way I was going to let the butterflies out of their cage.

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