Page 11 of Fake Dating the Next-Door
"Could you finish the salad? I need to change. Again." She looks down at herself. "I've already gone through three outfits and I'm still not sure about this one."
"You look beautiful," I say before I can stop myself. It's the truth, but not something I should be saying out loud.
Sunny freezes, her eyes widening slightly. "I... thank you."
We stand there looking at each other until the timer on her phone beeps, breaking the moment.
"That's my ten-minute warning," she says, her voice higher than usual. "They're always exactly on time. Very on-brand for them, too."
"Go change if you need to," I tell her. "I'll handle the salad."
She nods and disappears down the hallway. I turn to the half-assembled salad, grateful for the task. The kitchen is organized chaos, much like Sunny herself. Ingredients everywhere, but somehow she knows where everything is.
I hear her muttering to herself down the hall, the sound of drawers opening and closing rapidly. The nervousness in her voice tugs at something in my chest. She's genuinely anxious about this dinner, about her parents' approval.
I finish the salad and pour myself a glass of water, trying to settle my own nerves. This isn't combat. It's just dinner. With the parents of a woman I'm pretending to date but am increasingly drawn to in ways I shouldn't be.
Simple.
Sunny reappears in a different dress. This one a deep blue that makes her skin glow. Her hair is the same, but she's added earrings that catch the light when she moves.
"Better?" she asks, doing a small spin.
"You looked fine before," I say honestly. "But yes, that's nice too."
She takes a deep breath, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress. "Okay. Quick review. We've been dating three months. You fixed my faucet, I thanked you with banana bread, and you asked me to dinner. We've been together ever since."
"You're overthinking this," I tell her, moving closer. I place my hands on her shoulders, feeling how tense she is. "Just follow my lead. We'll be fine."
She looks up at me, "What if they don't believe us?"
"They will." I squeeze her shoulders gently. "Trust me."
The doorbell rings, and Sunny jumps like she's been shocked. "They're here," she whispers unnecessarily.
I drop my hands from her shoulders and offer one to her instead. "Ready?"
She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and places her hand in mine. "Ready."
As we walk to the door together, her small hand warm in mine, I have the distinct feeling that I'm stepping into something I won't be able to easily walk away from. This charade, this pretense… It's already blurring lines I thought were firmly drawn.
But when Sunny looks back at me, gratitude and nervousness in her eyes, I know it's too late to back out now.
I'm all in, for better or worse.
Chapter 5 - Sunny
My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure Garrett can feel it through our joined hands. I take one last deep breath, plaster on my brightest smile, and open the door.
"Mom! Dad!" I exclaim with what I hope passes for natural enthusiasm.
My parents stand on the porch, looking exactly as they always do. My father in pressed khakis and a button-down, my mother in a tasteful blouse and slacks, both with identical expressions of polite assessment. It's the look I've been on the receiving end of my entire life, a silent evaluation that inevitably finds me lacking.
"Sunshine!" My mother steps forward first, enveloping me in a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and maternal scrutiny. She holds me at arm's length, eyes already cataloging every detail. "You look lovely, dear. You finally did something with your hair!"
And we're off to a fantastic start.
"Thanks, Mom." I resist the urge to touch my arranged curls. "Come in, please."
