Page 48 of Love Me Like It's Real
I’ll survive.
Felix:
No doubt.
Hayworth:
So? AVC shit: yay or nay?
Felix:
No. You stay on your best behavior mister. We’re meant to be rehabilitating your image.
Hayworth:
Fine.
Felix:
It’s a date.
Hayworth:
A fake date.
I have to remind him. The last thing I need is for him to forget and catch any sort of feelings.
Felix:
Fake date only.
Good. Glad we’re on the same page. Now the real work can begin. Convince his daughters we’re dating. That’s going to be a piece of cake.
FOURTEEN
FELIX
Why am I giddy?
This is ridiculous. I know this is a fake date. It means nothing. And yet it’s like we’re officially going out. Why didn’t I feel this way on our date last week? Maybe because last time was just an obligation I was afraid of and this one is a date I asked for?
Which is stupid to even think that way because it’s a fake fucking date. It means nothing. It’s only for show, more specifically for Elsa and Arya, and this part, I don’t particularly regret. Not with how excited they seem to be about it, they’re jumping up and down on my bed while supposedly helping pick my outfit.
And as if that isn’t enough I have to put on every article of clothing as if we’re in a shopping montage in a movie. But I’m not complaining. More fun time with my daughters means less time playing mediator over every toy in the house.
“No. Not the pink shirt. It washes your skin out,” Elsa says and I can’t help but laugh.
Is there anything she doesn’t know?
I take the top off and put on the next one laid out in bed. A green top with a big bow in the front.
“Nuh-uh.” Arya shakes her head from side to side while Elsa picks up the next top. A black chiffon top with white and gold floral pattern.
As soon as it’s on they both look at each other and I wait with bated breath for their verdict.
“That’s the one!” Arya screams and we switch our attention to pants. I’m not sure what’s so complicated about pants but apparently we have to find the right pair for the top. I end up in my favorite washed-out blue jeans that I adore and look at myself in the mirror.
“Not bad, girls. Not bad.”
