Page 39 of The Fake Date Agreement

“He is?” I blink at him.

His smile grows. “It’s going to be even more fun than punching him in the face would have been.”

“You wanted to punch my ex in the face?”

“I talked him out of it.” Javier changes gears. “Not that he didn’t deserve it, but Coach would come down hard on him for fighting.”

Right.

“Oh.” I study Reid, then Javier some more. “So, this party tonight…”

“What about it?” Javier asks, driving past the exit for the mall.

Did he miss the turning?

Should I tell him?

When I glance at him, he doesn’t look lost.

“Will I, uh… have to talk to people at it?” As questions go, it’s probably as stupid as they get. A frat party is going to be swimming with other jocks and the popular students. The ones who are confident, beautiful, and everything I’m not. I’ll be stepping into a whole new world, and it terrifies me.

To my surprise, Javier smiles at me. “You sound like Caleb.”

“I do?”

Javier makes the next turn, and the nice mall comes into view. I didn’t think we’d be coming here, but from his car, I don’t know why I’m surprised he would shop here.

There are two big malls in town. The big indoor one where there is never enough parking on a weekend for ordinary mortals like me.

Then there is the nice mall, which is a perfectly air-conditioned, mostly outdoor haven with not a hint of trash on the sidewalk. It’s an oasis for those with money to burn in the mostly designer boutiques. It even smells expensive. I’ve only been to the nice mall once. One visit was enough to learn my budget stretched to a pair of socks or maybe a hair clip.

“On the rare occasion we’ve pried him out of his room or the rink, he will park himself in a corner and glare at anyone who comes near him. If you don’t want to talk to anyone at the party, stick by him, and that glare will chase off everyone,” Javier explains.

That glare sounds magnificent.

“Really?” I ask hopefully, then shake my head. “No. You’re just saying that to make me feel better about this party.”

Javier and Reid laugh.

Javier parks, and my nerves are tight as we approach a boutique.

It’s ‘the fancy, all white, only a handful of clothes on rails’ store that you know everything you pick up will give you a heart attack when you see the price tag. Hell, I bet this store doesn’t evenhaveprice tags. You go to pay at the counter and have your heart attack there.

I’m hyperconscious of my unwashed hair, lack of makeup, and the baggy clothes I practically live in.

Javier is confidence personified as he strides to the door as if he belongs, holding it open for me. Reid is smiling and relaxed. This feels like it’s their world, even though it’s a women’s store.

I’ve had countless shopping trips where I’d go home empty-handed because nothing I tried on looked as good on me as it did on the hanger. We haven’t entered the store yet, and I’m already feeling defeated.

The store is quiet this early, and I release a sigh of relief when out of the two women at the counter, a blonde and a brunette, it’s the blonde, an older woman who looks to be in her late thirties or early forties with a trim figure who approaches with a warm smile.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

I open my mouth, but Javier beats me to it. “Javier Duarte. We’re here for a new wardrobe for Tobie. I called earlier.”

He called?

Wait. A new wardrobe?

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