Page 72 of Faking the Face Off

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, stepping away and now handing me the giant bouquet. “It’s been a long time coming. These are for you.”

The bouquet is an explosion of color, with golden sunflowers towering over velvety red roses and delicate white lilies that exude a soft, sweet fragrance. Wispy baby’s breath and trailing eucalyptus leaves soften the boldness, while vibrant orangegerbera daisies and purple irises streaked with gold add playful, elegant touches.

“They’re beautiful,” I whisper.

“Ollie had me pick them out,” she says, putting her hand to her mouth like she’s telling me some great secret I don’t know.

“I figured,” I say with a chuckle.

“You know, I’ve heard so much about you over the years, it’s still weird to think we never met.”

“If it helps, Ollie, your mom, and your younger sisters all said that we’d like each other once we did meet.”

She grins. “To tell you the truth, I think I used to get a little jealous of you. Here was this girl coming to my house that my mom and my little sisters liked. And then, my little brother started to do anything and everything he could to impress her.”

“Does it help to know the girl didn’t get it until about a month ago?”

“No,” she says as she winks. “But it counts that she’s here now.”

Mia takes off the long peacoat she wears in a dramatic fashion to reveal what looks like a butler’s outfit underneath: black jacket over a white shirt and paired with white pants.

“While I could talk to you all night, I have a job, and you,” she says as she tosses the coat over her arm and motions for me to follow her, “have someone waiting for you.”

I trail after Mia through the parking lot, her black butler outfit—complete with a crisp bowtie and shiny dress shoes—looking hilariously out of place against the cracked asphalt and scattered cars. She moves with purpose, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I’m following.

“Almost there,” she chirps, her tone far too casual for the bizarre situation.

We round the far corner of the lot, slipping behind a line of hedges where the concrete gives way to a little hidden nook.That’s when I see it—a vintage pickup truck, its polished red exterior gleaming even in the dim light. Strings of fairy lights wind around the truck bed, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene. A small table is set up with a pristine white tablecloth, candles flickering gently, and plates of food so beautifully arranged they could be straight out of a five-star restaurant.

And there’s Ollie, standing beside it in that perfectly tailored suit of his, the one that makes him look extra stinking hot on game night. It makes him look more like he’s heading to a gala than hanging out in a parking lot. When our eyes lock, he flashes a grin that’s both charming and a little nervous, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. My heart stumbles in my chest. What on earth did I just walk into?

We come to a halt directly in front of Ollie, his hands clasped in front of him.

He nervously pushes his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad you came.”

Be still my heart. “I’m glad you said you’d meet me.”

As we stare into each other’s eyes, I realize what the meaning of getting lost in someone is, because I could do it now. The tug in my stomach is an excited pull as my body reacts to his being near. It’s like chemistry, or dancing with some kind of fire element. It leaves me wanting to combust.

The sound of liquid pouring turns my attention back to Mia who stands at the truck filling two champagne flutes. She turns around and hands us each a glass, then looks at Ollie.

“I’ve got it from here,” he says, only his eyes never leave mine.

Mia snickers under her breath, in that annoying but loving way only an older sibling can, before she retreats. By the time I drag my eyes from Ollie’s to say it was nice meeting her, she’s already disappeared.

“So,” Ollie begins, bringing my focus back to him, this gorgeous night with a giant full moon that is so perfect it could have been painted into the sky, and the pickup truck drenched with fairy lights that is our backdrop. Can it get more romantic? “Do you like the truck I rented?”

My hand flies to my mouth as laughter escapes it. Of course he rented the truck for tonight. “I love it.”

He holds up his glass as if he wants to make a toast, but I put my hand on his forearm to stop him.

“Before we do that,” I say, my voice tiptoeing on the line of being serious, “can I say something?”

“Of course,” he says, lowering his hand. “I guess you were the one who texted to see me.”

“Very true, because I want to explain to you what’s been going on.”

Ollie holds his hand out for me to take, which I do, and he leads me over to the truck where he has the gate down as a proxy seat. I jump up and once I’m settled in, I look at him. Right into those yummy blue eyes where the gray flecks dance tonight.

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