Page 8 of Counterfeit Boyfriend
4Gwen
I was tryingto be cool, but everything inside of me remained a bit on the spinny side, and I couldn’t stop staring at my boyfriend. This morning I was seeing him in a whole new light, and now the idea that I might break up with him seemed ludicrous.
One, who’d dump someone who could kiss like that? Two, when the hell had he learned to kiss like that? And three, why hadn’t we been doing it that way over the past few months?
I bit my still-tingling lip and his gaze narrowed in on the motion. I should really say goodbye and get to work—my boss at Doc Lovejoy’s Vet Clinic and Grooming Center was cool, but she was also slightly freaking out about how she’d manage without me for the rest of the week, so I didn’t want to press my luck. “I better get going, or I’m gonna be late to work.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” Evan put his hand on the small of my back as we started down the sidewalk, and butterflies swarmed my stomach. Strange how my mediocre feelings for him had flipped so drastically, the tiniest touches now sending my hormones into overdrive. He’d always been fun, but until this morning, I never realized he was so funny.
Those black market jokes made me smile all over again.
But the sight of my car turned that smile upside down. The rim to the back right tire sat on the ground of the parking lot. “Oh, no. I bet it was that pothole I hit. Or maybe it was the construction zone I passed through.”
I dropped down, pushing the rubber of the tire, like that’d make it gopsych!and suddenly fill up with air. “See what I mean about my temperamental car? I thought the tires were one of the few things I didn’t have to worry about.”
Evan’s hand came down on my shoulder as he squatted next to me. “Not a big deal. I’ll help you change the tire. You might want to warn your boss that you’ll be a few minutes late.”
I nodded. I wished I was better at dealing with crises, whether big or small, and while I knew this landed on the small side, I still hated stuff like this. Not only did it veer from my carefully planned course, I felt stupid and weak for not knowing how to deal. It also took me back to that moment before I left for college, when my dad patted my head and told me he was afraid the real world would eat me alive. I wish he would’ve prepared me for it instead, but I guess there are some things that aren’t easy to prepare for.
A flat tire was easy enough to manage.
Dealing with things like betrayal and your life being upheaved, not so much. But I wasn’t going to think about that now, because I’d pushed through the pain and found a new situation for myself. And when I had to come face-to-face with my past this weekend, I’d… well, I wouldn’t be ready, but I’d deal.
Since I didn’t want my thoughts to dwell on the bad—especially not after such a great, pleasantly surprising morning with Evan—I forced all that from my mind and focused on the problem at hand. I sent off a quick text, letting my boss know I’d probably be late, and then moved to the trunk of my car with Evan in tow.
“Just pop it open and we’ll get the spare,” he said.
“Yeah, about that… it might be a little more complicated than that.” The button on my key fob released the latch, and the trunk rose, revealing jumbo-sized bags of dog food, cat food, and special animal treats. Including catnip in bulk.
“What are you?” Evan asked. “An animal drug dealer?”
I laughed. “Now you know how I convince the animals at work to do what I want, whether I’m sending them back to the vet or the groomer. My boss asked me to pick up supplies yesterday afternoon, and obviously I haven’t been to work to offload them yet.”
“Right. At work.”
“You know, the place you go that pays you? Or maybe you don’t, since you never seem to have to go to your job.”
“Hey,” he said, jabbing me in the side and making me twitch. “You’re supposed to be nice to the guy who’s about to change your tire.”
“My bad.” I dropped my voice. “So, are you gonna help me move my supply or what?”
Evan glanced around and then leaned in conspiratorially. “What about that dog across the street? He looks like he’s into some rough stuff.” He jerked his chin toward a bulldog who was waddling down the street with his owner.
“Rookie mistake. The red eyes make him look like a puppy stoner, but bulldogs are lazy enough that you can shampoo, or trim, or even give them their shots, and they just sit there likewhatever dude. It’s the tiny yippy ones you have to look out for.”
“Good to know.” Evan gave me another one of those smiles I felt all the way down to my toes. Then he demonstrated the fact that his muscles were more than just for show as he hefted the heavy bags out of the trunk and onto the black tarmac.
I demonstrated what I was good at by watching and making appreciative noises over his display of strength. The more I voiced my admiration, the more his face reddened, and he shyly ducked his head. As someone who majored in awkward with a minor in speaking-without-thinking, I embarrassed myself all the time. Evan always seemed so chill and unshakeable, which made it that much more fun to tease him.
When he wiped his forearm across his forehead and his shirt rose, displaying a few inches of tantalizing ab muscles and cut obliques, I even added a catcall whistle. “Oh yeah. Lookin’ good.”
In one quick movement, Evan whipped out his hand, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to him. “You think you’re real funny, don’t ya?”
“Because I am.” My heart beat out a rapid rhythm, and I worked to put on my best innocent act as I placed my hand on his chest and found his heart hammering away as quickly as mine. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to objectify you. It just sort of happened.”
He shook his head, and I soaked in the feel of his warm, firm body against mine. He dipped his head, and I swore he was going to kiss me—a move I was totally onboard with, for the record—but then he released me and turned back to the trunk.
Within a few minutes, he’d used the jack to lift the car off the ground. He worked the lug nuts free and slid off the damaged tire.
