Page 35 of Falling for My Billionaire Fake Date

And I swear, I see the cat glare at him. Britt and I burst out laughing, and Mr. Snow settles himself comfortably on Britt’s lap, purring contentedly while Britt runs a hand through his fur.

“Hismajestyhas shifted our focus from the important discussion,” Ryan points out, spitting out ‘majesty’ sarcastically, and I roll my eyes at his childish antics.

“I say you go with the flow and go ahead and date Jake. See where it leads to after the wedding,” Ryan suggests, while pouring himself another glass of wine.

“I second your suggestion, Ryan. Just go with the flow, Aur, and see where this leads to,” Britt pipes in, not looking up from her impromptu massage on Mr. Snow, her eyes glued to his shiny fur.

I sit up from my slouch at their suggestions. “No, no, no! Y’all are getting the whole situation wrong. It’s supposed to be FAKE dating, not going with the flow, or seeing where it leads. If Jake’s thoughts align with mine, the plan will be to be in a pretend relationship until the wedding’s over. We are not actually dating and going with the flow. Remember?”

“Why not date for real? Why fake it since you guys will be spending time together after all?” Britt asks, pointing Mr. Snow’s paw at me as a substitute for her own fingers. Ryan nods vigorously at her weird suggestion.

“Last time I checked, Jake and I aren’t exactly in love with each other. We’re just two people who have common enemies and a common goal with a common idea to get rid of them. Also, it was just a misunderstanding that occurred. I am not exactly his girlfriend. What part of these concepts don’t you understand,guys?”

“Didn’t Jake ask you to be his girlfriend just last week?” Ryan asks, with furrowed brows.

“Fake. Girlfriend,” I deadpan. Seriously, did my friends’ brains get filtered or what?

“I say date,” Ryan says, as if folding in a game of cards.

“I say date,” Britt parrots, and I nearly slap them each across the head.

“I believe you’re both idiots,” I say, picking up a slice of the now barely warm pizza.

Ryan’s phone dings, and he glances at me before typing rapidly. He pockets his phone and swipes the last slice of pizza.

“Hey!” I protest.

He shrugs, quickly licking it! Britt leans across and slaps him upside his head.

“Greedy little thief,” I hiss, scowling at him.

“I say we hit the bar!” he shouts, after washing down his stolen pizza with the remnants of the wine.

I groan, tucking my legs underneath me and flopping my head to the edge of the couch.

“Do we have to?” I whine. The thought of leaving the couch is really not appealing to me.

“It amazes me how you are able to own a bar but find it difficult to hang out or unwind in one.” Britt stares at me like I’m some sort of weirdo.

“Yeah, but do we have to? I really don’t feel like it. And why the sudden idea to go to the bar?” she asks suspiciously, looking up to stare at Ryan with narrowed eyes.

“Yes, we have to,” he says in a weird tone, making Brittney look up to stare at him for a moment as well.

“Yeah! Let’s hit the bar!” She gently places Mr. Snow on the sofa.

He, in turn, stares at Ryan with an accusing look. Ryan smirks at him, and I roll my eyes for the hundredth time this evening. Seriously, who keeps or counts scores with a cat?

“Get yourself off the couch. Upstairs you go,” Ryan tuts.

I groan again, knowing there is no escaping this.

“Come on girl, let’s go get you all dressed up!” Britt hollers, and I hunker down, imagining how nice it’d be if I could go in my trusted sweatpants and comfy, baggy shirt.

The last sight I see is of Ryan making the, ‘I got my eyes on you’ gesture at Mr. Snow with a serious expression on his face. I shake my head at his hopelessness, following Britt up the stairs.

Why the sudden need to go to the bar? I’m not sure, but it feels like a set-up, for some reason.

Chapter twenty-four

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