Page 8 of One Week With My Dad's Best Friend

“Not really.” I sink deeper into the pillows. They smell like Anton’s laundry detergent.

“Tall, dark hair, killer smile? He asked about you.”

“I don’t—”

“If you say no, I’m going to drag you out myself.” Her voice turns serious. “One night. That’s all I’m asking. It might send Anton crazy.”

“I doubt it.” I sigh, knowing she won’t drop this night out, but also because I know Anton doesn’t want me. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Maybe Anton will be relieved to have the house to himself. To not worry about running into me in the hallway or catching glimpses of me in silk pajamas. “What time?”

“Straight after college. Bring some clothes with you to the gym. We’ll start at The Lock & Key.”

“Okay.” My stomach twists at the thought of leaving, but I push the feeling aside. “But I’m not staying late.”

“You’re sleeping at mine. No arguing.”

I roll my eyes.

Her laugh echoes through the phone, and it’s as though she can see me. “Bring that black dress. The one with the—”

“Okay. I need to go.” I cut her off, hearing movement in the hallway. Anton must be up. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You know, Anton just needs a little encouragement. Maybe get him a little jealous.” She smiles. “Knowing you’re dating someone will drive him wild and he’ll see you differently.”

“He’s too old for me, anyway,” I say, suddenly conscious of the age gap.

“It never bothered you before.” Her voice turns to a whisper. “Mom is calling me. Now that you’re up, get your ass out of bed and meet me at the college gym, and we can discuss tonight and a strategy.”

“A strategy?”

“How to get Anton Hawthorn to fall in love with you.”

I giggle. “That won’t happen.”

“Scarlett, stop doubting my ability with the opposite sex. Now get your gym bag and meet me in the gym at seven. Georgie will be there too.”

“Goodbye, Hetty.” I end the call and stretch across the bed, allowing myself a private smile.

Can I make him jealous?

Should I?

He is good at hiding his attraction, if there is one, but I maybe there is something in the slight tremor in his hands, or the way his breath hitched, and how he practically fled to his room.

My pajama choice wasn’t an accident. Neither was the way I’d hesitated at my door, giving him one last look before disappearing into my room. I might be nineteen, but I’m not naïve. And Anton Hawthorn isn’t as immune to me as he pretends to be.

I push my legs from the bed.

“The gym, hopefully it’ll wake me up,” I mutter, trying to convince myself.

After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I drag my bike pants up my legs and pull a crop top over my bra. Then throw a pair of jeans and tee shirt into my backpack with the black dress for my night out, my laptop and a towel.

I don’t have the time for breakfast, or a shower, luckily my parents left me with an allowance for the week. They didn’t want me to burden Anton with anything other than my presence.

So, until I get to speak to Hetty about her strategy, I’ll sneak around in his house, like right now, while trying not to make any noise while I fill my drink bottle up with water and throw it in my bag.

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