Page 28 of Mr. Charming

Decker’s eyebrows scrunch, and he picks up his glass of sangria. “No.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

I wave him off, grabbing a chip and breaking it apart in pieces, distracting myself for a second. “I need a favor.”

“So this wasn’t just a friendly catch-up while we’re in the same city?” He sits back, waiting for me to continue.

“It is. It’s really good to see you, Decker, but um… I need you to be my fake boyfriend tomorrow night.”

Silence.

Dead air.

Zero expression on his face.

“You what?” he asks after I gobble up three more chips.

“Well, like you mentioned, Tweetie is a problem. So, I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend so he keeps his distance from me.”

His eyebrows raise, and I think maybe he’s been doing some tweezing to get that shape. “You can’t just tell him to leave you alone?”

I tilt my head, and he nods.

“God, you two and your games.”

“Excuse me. There are no games. We’re just like magnets and can’t get unstuck. You’re going to be the paper between us.”

“Me?” He points at himself.

It’s time to lay it on thick.

“Please, Decker. I have no one else, and what would my brothers think if I had to resort to sorting through a bunch of creeps on the dating apps?”

“You’re playing the best friends’ sister card?”

I smile at him over my glass of sangria. “Do you want to see my boobs?”

“Fuck, Tedi.” He looks around to make sure my question didn’t draw any glances.

“Well, you wanted to see them when you were in the seventh grade. Remember when I caught you spying on me?” I laugh.

He leans over the table, lowering his voice. “Because I got a hard-on and didn’t understand what was happening to my body. And I’ve apologized for that, like, ten thousand times. You can stop bringing it up.”

“It would be a shame for that to end up on SportsVerse.”

His expression blanks, and he drills his gaze into mine. “Now you’re resorting to blackmail?”

“I’m a desperate woman.” I finish my sangria and reach for the pitcher. “I’ll get you tickets to the games. First row, best in the house.”

He seems to think about it. Maybe I should’ve started with the hockey tickets. I just assumed with his income and connections, he could get a ticket to any game he wanted.

“What do I have to do?” he asks, watching me pour another glass. “And just so we’re clear, it doesn’t entail me carrying you back to your place tonight.” He eyes my full glass.

“Okay, Decker, let’s remember who’s older here. I can handle my alcohol. Do I need to bring up the time you threw up in the middle of the family room during my party?”

His cheeks flush. “Jesus, your memory is like a catalog of misdeeds. You can just dive in and pluck out every embarrassing thing I ever did.”

---