Page 89 of Boyfriend of the Hour
My stomach did a somersault.
God, what was wrong with me?
“But has he ever seen you in a serious relationship?” Nathan pressed.
I snorted. “I’d have to have had a serious relationship for that to happen.”
I should have been able to say yes. Because I knew how lame it was, that at twenty-four, I’d never had a relationship last more than a few weeks. “Joni’s Boyfriend of the Hour,” like Lea had said too many times to count. She also liked to sing that old song “Maneater” whenever I had a date.
It was supposed to be funny, and maybe it was. But deep down, I wondered if they were right.
And then I wondered if the real reason none of my relationships seemed to last was because of one core reality: I just wasn’t worth it.
Nathan looked thoughtful. I fought the urge to bury my head in the couch cushions. Instead, I sat up straight, remembering the posture lessons that Mrs. Suarez had practically beaten into me.
That made me feel a little better. Dancers don’t shrink. They stand tall and hold their bodies with inner strength.
Even when shit gets really hard.
Maybe I wasn’t a dancer anymore, but at least I could do that.
“I think maybe the charade we agreed to might benefit us both,” Nathan said finally.
I frowned. “How do you figure?”
He sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the arm. “I think we should just pretend to be in a relationship…all the time…starting now. You’ll come with me to work and family events. Be my date to things and, ah, ‘coach’ me, like we discussed. I’ll pick you up from your shifts at the bar, accompany you wherever else you need, and help you earn some respect from your family and put off this…predatory person in your life.” He tipped his head in that way I’d come to recognize. It meant he was feeling amused. Maybe a little mischievous. “Do I look like someone who could beat him up?”
I worked a corner of a throw pillow between my fingers. It sounded good. Maybe too good. A gorgeous apartment and stupid hot “boyfriend” falling into my lap just when I was hitting rock bottom.
There had to be a catch.
“I don’t understand why you would do all of this for me,” I said.
He tilted his head, causing a mussed curl to fall over his brow. “It’s not just for you. It’s for me too. We discussed this.”
“Yeah, but I’m a legit mess, as we’ve also discussed. You have way more to offer. I know you said you have that social disorder thing?—”
“Social pragmatic processing disorder,” he corrected me gently.
“That, yeah. But to me, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. I don’t for one minute believe that you couldn’t get a girlfriend—a real one—like that.” I snapped my fingers to demonstrate.
Nathan didn’t argue with me. Which told me I was right. I could easily imagine it—women falling all over themselves to give the hot doctor their numbers. His own patients probably came onto him at all hours of the night.
Messing around with me was a waste of his time. We both knew it.
“Maybe I just like you better than most people,” he said. “Have you considered that?”
I laughed. “Come on. I’m not that dumb fourteen-year-old anymore.”
At that, he looked visibly angry for the first time. The hard glare in his eye shut me up immediately. All irreverence ran right out the front door.
“Donotcompare me to that piece of shit, Joni,” he said through clenched teeth. “If you think I’m no better than a pedophile who preys on innocent young girls, then you’re right. This isn’t going to work at all.”
My mouth fell open. I was about to argue with his description of Shawn but found I couldn’t. For the first time in my life, disgust slid down my back like a snake when I thought of him. Thought of me. Thought of how young I was when I gave him so much of myself.
And thought of how impossible it would be to get any of that back.
“Okay,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think that of you at all. I think you’re…I actually think you’re amazing if you want to know the truth. I wasn’t lying when I said all those nice things about you to my sisters. I meant them.”
