Page 10 of An Engagement Pact

Despite my protestation, Dan insists on walking me to my car. He carries our mugs up to the counter, earning a called-out thank-you from Chase, and then walks back to where I’m standing by our table.

I notice that Paige and the other couple at the big table are watching us as we leave. They’re Dan’s friends. There’s a good chance they know exactly what we’re doing together. As Dan holds the door open for me, a couple of college-aged girls are coming in, so he keeps holding the door open for them too.

They giggle and shoot him flirtatious glances. For some reason, I find them very annoying.

It’s different. Walking out of the coffee shop with Dan. Everyone who knows him loves him. And people who don’t know him want to.

It’s never happened to me before. Being with someone like him.

Being the girl who is with the best guy.

Even if it’s only fake.

***

“WHERE IS HE TAKINGyou?” Savannah asks on Saturday evening at 6:42, a half hour before Dan is picking me up for our first fake date.

“He didn’t say.” I check out my reflection in the mirror. Despite the fact that this date isn’t a real one, I have just as many nervous flutters as I would normally before a date. And just as many worries about my choice of wardrobe. I’m wearing fitted cropped pants in a chocolate-brown color with a sleeveless pink top and sandals with enough heel to extend the length of my legs.

“He could have at least told you casual or upscale.”

“He said nice but not fancy. You think this will work okay, don’t you?” The fabric and cut of my top elevate it beyond casual wear, but the pants and warm colors keep the outfit from looking overdone. I don’t have many nicer clothes, and this is literally the only outfit I could put together that feels appropriate and also attractive.

“You look perfect for nice but not fancy. He’s going to show up in good trousers and a button-up shirt. Just wait. And what you’re wearing will be perfect with that. Plus those pants make your butt look really good.”

I turn in the mirror and crane my neck in an attempt to check out my ass. I don’t have a particularly impressive body. I’m in pretty good shape from the walking I do but am not a fan of working out at a gym. My boobs are decent—neither very big nor very small—but my butt has a nice shape and is probably my best feature. “Okay. This will have to do because I have absolutely nothing else to change into.”

“You don’t need to change. You look gorgeous. Dan is for sure going to agree.”

I make wordless disapproving mumbles about her last comment, which makes me decidedly uncomfortable.

Savannah just laughs from where she’s propped on the edge of the small side chair in the corner of my bedroom.

I pick out some simple gold jewelry and put it on as I look at the clock. “I’m ready too early as usual. I always end up doing that.”

“Nothing wrong with being ready early.”

“Except now I have to wait for more than ten minutes without messing up my ensemble.” I smooth down my hair even though it’s always straight. My hair won’t curl to save its life.

“You’ll be fine.”

“You think so? Because I feel really weird and nervous about this whole thing.”

Savannah has been upbeat and encouraging since she came into my room to keep me company while I got ready, but her face sobers now. “You don’t have to do it, you know. If you’re genuinely uncomfortable, then apologize to Dan and bow out of it.”

“No. I’m not going to do that.” I sigh and finally turn away from the mirror. It’s justmelooking back at me there anyway. “I still want to do it. I’m just... anxious.”

“That’s to be expected. Who would be comfortable in such a situation? But Dan’s so easygoing I think you’ll probably relax soon enough.”

“Yeah. I hope so.” I take a deep breath and let it out. Square my shoulders. “Okay. This is me. Ready for a fake date. Let’s go out and watch the game so I don’t start to second-guess my outfit.”

Savannah chuckles and gently pushes me out through the bedroom door. Sitting around the kitchen table are Jim, Esther, and Lance. They’re playing Scrabble, which is something they’ve done fairly often since I moved in last year.

I’ve never considered myself a game person, but I’ve played with them on more than one occasion. They’re all way better than I am, but it’s still fun to hang out with them.

This evening, Savannah instructed her husband to play both his hand and hers until she returned from talking to me, so she walks over now to inspect how well he’s done with her tiles. When she starts to offer some wry criticism, he chuckles and pulls her into his lap.

“Don’t think being all lovey-dovey is going to keep me from noticing that you’re currently forty-two points ahead of me,” she tells him in her typical lilting tone. “Do you expect me to believe that happened from no fault of your own?”

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