Page 11 of Not Fooling Anyone

Her cheeks redden and she slides out of the booth, grabbing her bag. “Just text me your answers to the list, okay?”

“Whoa, whoa.” I’m out of my seat before I fully register what I’m doing, hands on her shoulders steering her back as my brain finally puts two and two together. The insistence this isn’t a date. Telling me right off the bat yesterday she doesn’t date boxers. Has she been on a date with anyone? “We don’t have to talk about dates. They’re overrated, anyway.”

She reluctantly sits back down, draining half her glass of water to avoid responding.

“Our new story is that we didn’t have a first date,” I continue. “We locked eyes across that crowded boxing gym floor and our souls merged together as one. We were inseparable from that day on.”

She rolls her eyes, quickly setting her glass down as she covers her mouth. “You almost made me spit that water everywhere.”

“Because you liked the idea so much?”

She shakes her head softly. “No, your first story was better. We went out to eat and wondered about the restaurant’s name. Like the beginning of some dumb rom-com. You know, if it comes up during the study.”

“In our version, we could even meet the real Kate.”

She shrugs, but I can tell she likes the idea from the slight curve of her lips. “Sure. Why not?”

The tension in my shoulders finally releases. Hopefully she won’t make a break for it again.

“Hope you’re hungry,” our waitress says as she returns with my ridiculous amount of food.

Lexie’s eyes go wide at the platters in front of me. They don’t skimp on portion sizes here.

“Take anything you want,” I tell her, digging in. I had dinner earlier but I’m still starving. Must be all the time at the gym. “And we can go over your questions.” I push the sheets of paper back toward her. “Fire away.”

“Don’t you need to write my answers?”

I tap my temple. “It’s all up here.”

She sighs, comfortable enough at least to pick up her fork and spear a few home fries. “All right. Favorite color.”

We go through the likes and dislikes, some of her answers surprising me. Whose favorite ice cream is actually mint chocolate chip?

“That would literally be my last choice,” I tell her, finishing up the hash browns.

“Guess there’s more ice cream for me, then.” She smiles smugly at me, pouring syrup over a waffle.

“You can have it.” I shudder dramatically, relishing the way those full lips of hers widen. “You ready to move onto family stuff?”

Her grin drops. “Yeah, I guess.”

Shit. Should have made up more likes and dislikes. “You want to start or should I?”

She pokes at the waffle with her fork. “I will. You know my dad already.”

She’s silent after that, and I wait a few moments longer, wondering if that was the end of her statement. “And your mom?” I prompt.

“She’s not important. I’m not saying anything else about it.”

Guess I was right about that being a touchy subject.

“Dad’s parents are dead and he has an older brother that lives out in California. I met him when I was little, but I don’t remember it. And I don’t know any of my mom’s family.” Her tone is almost robotic, stilted in the way she delivers it. “No siblings.”

She leans back in her booth and crosses her arms, glaring at me like she’s daring me to say something. Does she think I’d make fun of her?

“Only child? Sounds amazing. Try fighting with four brothers for everything.”

“That’s right, the four brothers.” She loses her hard edge, picking up her pen to scribble something down. “Give me details.”

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