Page 35 of Counterfeit Boyfriend
15Ethan
“Oh, holy crappers,”Gwen said, which wasn’t a saying I’d heard before. I’d held the door open for an elderly couple who’d been going into the 7-11 as we’d been coming out, and in the five seconds I’d taken my eyes off her, something must’ve gone wrong.
A giant fountain drink and a slew of other snacks filled her hands, enough sugar and caffeine to give me diabetes and shift her chatter into turbo mode, and admittedly, I couldn’t wait for it to kick in. Her gaze was fixed on a spot on the ground, and a closer look revealed the sunglasses she’d had on earlier, now on the ground and twisted at a funny angle, the lenses in pieces on the sidewalk.
She gave me this half grimace, half sheepish smile. “I chose to save the food.”
I placed my hand on her back. “Well, you did warn me food was your priority.”
“I’d forgotten that I’d pushed my sunglasses onto the top of my head and when I looked down so I wouldn’t trip, they slipped off and crumpled like they were made of glass.”
“They are made of glass.”
She cocked her head. “The frames aren’t, and they broke, too.” She shifted the snacks in her arms and frowned down at the ground again. “I’m going to need a pair of shades for the next few hours, though, so maybe I chose wrong.”
I took the assorted goodies out of her hands, put them in the car, and then reached for her soda.
She took a long pull and then handed it over. As soon as I settled it in the cup holder, I
grabbed her hand and tugged her back toward the double doors of the convenience store. “Looks like we’re going back in.”
She glanced around and lowered her voice. “We’ll get made for sure.”
I played along, leaning in conspiratorially. “Not if we find the right pair of shades.”
The air-conditioned breeze hit us as we walked back inside, and goosebumps broke out across Gwen’s arms. I rubbed my hands up and down them, attempting to warm her up. “Need me to run back and get my hoodie?”
“I can make it. I’ll just grab the first pair of shades I see and then we’ll be back on the road.” She slowed before the tower of eyewear. “Whoa, check these out. These are like the-nursing-home-special sunglasses.” She slipped them on and turned to me.
They were huge and ugly, and yet, she still looked cute in them. “You said you were getting the first pair you grabbed, so I hope you enjoy your choice.” I teasingly tugged her toward the cash register.
“No, wait! I changed my mind. A girl’s allowed to change her mind now and then.”
She plopped the discarded glasses on my face and then reached for another pair—old school Terminator shades. “Do I look like a badass now?”
I lifted the sunglasses off my head, taking in her huge, dimpled smile without the obscuring dark lenses. “Not with that grin. You need to work on your intimidation skills to pull off badass.”
She tried to wipe it from her lips and add some intimidation to her expression. “If you don’t do what I say…” The corners of her mouth trembled. “I will talk you to death. You’ll break, trust me.”
“Nope. Not scary enough—the face or the threat.”
“Fine.” The next thing I knew, another pair of sunglasses had been placed on my face. I turned to the strip of mirror that separated the rows. Bedazzled cat-eye glasses. Of course.
“Hot,” she said.
“I’m going to buy them now, and then you’ll have to look at me in them for the rest of the trip. I hope you’re happy.”
Her laugh spilled out, loud and full, causing several people to glance at us. The happiness she radiated spread to them, until they were all chuckling, too.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “They’re laughingwithyou.”
I pointed at the unamused expression I’d plastered on my face, although with the jeweled eyewear, I doubt it was very effective. “I’m not laughing.”
“Then you should. Don’t make it awkward.”
My serious façade cracked as a snicker slipped out, and I removed the blingy shades and put them on her.
She waggled her eyebrows. “Yes? No?” Before I could answer, she exchanged them for a pair of aviators. “Who am I?” She dropped her voice a few octaves. “Don’t save your EpiPen or I’ll drag you into the ER. I’m scared of plummeting to my death, yet I approve of deathtrap carnival rides.”
