Page 32 of Fighting

“Sit.” She points at the couch, and as I soon as I do, she shoves the box at me.

“Then what? I hoped you’d show up here mad as hell. Which you did. I hoped you’d be too angry and turned on to restrain yourself. Like you’ve been. We didn’t even break a rule. This is necessary touching. You were doing something fun, just for yourself.”

I grasp her arm and pull her onto the couch beside me, then draw a light line along her jaw and tilt her face so our eyes meet.

“If everything goes according to my plan, I’m one screaming match from finding out what’s on your list.” I bite my knuckles and consider pushing this a bit farther.

“Once I start to check those boxes, you’ll be all”—I raise the pitch of my voice—“oh, Matty. This was so much better than having to think about rules or ex-boyfriends.”

I kiss the tip of her nose and pull back, making sure to give her my best smolder, then I take a calculated risk.

Returning my voice to its normal register, I say, “We can benefit from this fake relationship.”

“Listen, Scarecrow, if you only had a brain, this would be so much easier. Let me use words that you can understand. This. Is. A. Terrible. Idea.”

Swallowing the hit to my pride, I feign disinterest and look down at my watch. “Right on time. Listen to me for a minute here, killer. You said you’ve only been with three men. You don’t want to date and won’t while we’re faking this thing anyway. So take advantage of me. Form your own opinions. It’s a win-win for your brand; you’ll improve your podcast. Then, by going back for seconds with me, it keeps your precious body count down.”

Bringing up body counts was a gamble. A long shot for sure. But based on the ice replacing the fire in her eyes, I went bust.

Rearing back, she flashes both middle fingers at me. “Fuck off, asshole. Next, you’ll ask me how many blow jobs I’ve given or make that stupid fucking joke again.”

My gut plummets. What joke?

“God, sleeping with you was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

She stands and scrambles for the door. Before I can get to her, she’s stepping into her warm, furry boots and slamming the door behind her.

Shit. I can’t let her walk home alone.

I dart to the kitchen, where I left my shirt, then stuff my feet into my sneakers. “Nessa, wait,” I call, still tugging the shirt over my head. “Hold up a minute. Can I?—”

She pops in one earbud, then the other. As she stalks away, she sings along to the song. I’m trying to catch the lyrics, but all I hear is the wordpoisonover and over.

She’s so fucking cute, even when she’s probably plotting my murder. I follow several steps behind her the whole way. Her light pink coat sways as she dances. Her long, thick blond hair is in these adorable big French braid pigtails. And her smile is larger with each passing house. Instead of pushing it farther, I just soak up the sight of her.

Once she’s inside her house, I make my way toward the park before looping around town and heading home to sleep.

When I get into bed, all I can think about are those kisses, causing me to end another day fucking my fist with visions of her in my head. Except this time, her citrus vanilla scent lingers on me.

thirteen

Nessa

I findLily and Delia sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea when I get home, so I grab myself a mug and join them.

Right away, the topic turns to Seth and the bookstore. According to the girls, he’s been spending more time hanging around the bar and avoiding the store as much as he can while Rosie, the flower shop owner next door, is training the person taking over. Delia’s been trying to get information about the new owner, but every time she brings it up, he sort of growls and then glazes over.

“I’m worried about him. He’s quieter than usual. Which is saying something.” Delia lifts one shoulder. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

From there, Lily gushes about how well things are going at the dance studio. “Registration roll over from the surrounding towns is great,” she says, her smile bright. “I’ve had this wild influx from a local college. The students remember me from my influencing days, I guess. They even asked if I could put together a workshop on content planning and creation, that kind of stuff. It’s been fun to watch them carve out a niche and help them get started.”

In typical Lily fashion, the more excited she is, the faster the words spill from her.

“What about you?” She props her chin on her hand and homes in on me. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Mateo lately. The Springer claims you’re dating.” Her eyes flash with mischief. “Are you dating Stef’s brother? What about everything you said after you left Boston? Or after you hooked up with Matty? And what’s with the personal chauffeur service?”

Delia looks at Lily, wide-eyed, and I swallow a large gulp of tea. I regret it half a second later when it burns my tongue. I open my mouth and inhale sharply for relief, then let out a noisy exhale.

“Yeah,” Delia says. “I barely see you lately. What’s going on there?”

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