Page 20 of Fumbled Into Love

“Yes. That Deon.” Sawyer’s jaw falls. Maren begins to pace. “He came over to my apartment, sat on my couch, and asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“Did you clean up first?” Maren asks, and if she wasn’t on the other side of the living room, I would smack her. My apartment is notthatmessy.

“What did you say?” Sawyer presses.

“I laughed in his face. Then I realized he was serious.”

“You said yes, right?” Maren asks, an odd smile on her face. It’s unnerving.

“What do you think?” They both nod. “That was why he was in my office on Friday,” I say to Sawyer.

“You big, fat liar!” Sawyer points an accusatory finger. “Was he even donating any money?”

“No.” I grimace. She had big plans for that fake money. Spent all afternoon on Friday talking about her ideas and how the money could fund different programs.

I’m not able to admit the phoniness of my new relationship with my family, but my best friends can know, and it dissipates a fraction of the guilt sitting heavy on my shoulders.

“How are you two going to pull this off?” Maren asks.

She’s smiling, but it’s all teeth, and it’s terrifying.

“It won’t be difficult. We’ll go on a few dates, take some photos to assuage the media, and then attend the auction. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

Sawyer and Maren stare at me like I’ve said the sky is green.

“If you sayso…” Maren trails off.

“I do say so.”

Sawyer looks like she wants to say something but refrains, and my confidence in our plan plummets.

It’s a good plan. Fool-proof.

But the longer we sit on the couch, the less confident I become. Why don’t they think we can pull this off?

CHAPTER 5

“Stay cool, it’s just a kiss”

Talk Too Much – COIN

Deon

I’m sick with nerves as I take the stairs to Nathalie’s apartment, using the exercise and time to compose myself.

It’s a date. A fake date to prove to the world I have a girlfriend. We’ll eat dinner, talk, take a photo to post on the internet, and leave.

Simple.

No matter how often I tell myself those facts, the churning in my stomach doesn’t settle. I haven’t been on a date in five years and I’m rusty. Worse, it’s with Nathalie and I fear I may comment on something I know, but shouldn’t, and incriminate myself as a creep who knows far too much about her.

I got lucky with the macarons. It won’t happen again.

She may have casually mentioned at Sawyer’s wedding that she wants a massive tray of macarons at her wedding. I may have remembered.

Declan’s comment about taking advantage of her doesn’t help the nerves.

I stop on the fourth floor and nearly choke from the acrid smell lingering in the hallway. It’s like someone boiled hotdogs and sweaty socks.

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