Page 33 of Love Me Like It's Real
I nod. “They have a bad habit.”
“To get you a date?”
“To get me a boyfriend.”
He bursts into laughter and even though I expected it, it still has the same effects on my insides as before and I can’t help but laugh along with him.
“In fact, it’s the only thing that brings them together at the moment. They’re at each other’s throats otherwise.”
“So, I imagine you date a lot, then.”
“No. Why?”
He raises his shoulders and sneaks a glance my way. “To keep the girls happy, of course.”
I give him what I hope is a look of disgust. “Of course not! Are you crazy? They don’t need to get their hopes up of getting a new dad anytime soon. I can’t imagine what that would do to their psyches.”
He bites his lips and nods.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like you committed a crime. Tonight at least.”
“You read the blog again, didn’t you?” He groans.
I pretend to zip my mouth shut and sink into my seat, leaving him to stew.
“I hate them. Whoever is behind it, I hate them. It’s like they’re determined to ruin me.”
That doesn’t sound fun. And to be honest, it only reinforces my idea that he’s the last person I should be seen with. But it’s too late to change my mind now, isn’t it?
I try to shake it out of my head but I keep making up headlines in my head. The kind I could see on the blog tomorrow morning.
By the time I manage to push those thoughts aside, he parks up across a bar and I have to get out of the car and be civil again.
“The Forbidden Maple?” I eye the sign and cast a glance his way.
“Yeah. It’s the best bar in town if I say so myself.”
“You mean you haven’t been kicked out of this one yet.”
“Hey!” he exclaims but he’s smiling so I know I haven’t offended him, which is a relief. Especially if we’re going to have to share a meal and spend the next hour together.
I study the black and white sign outside the bar until I realize the logo is a maple leaf upside down, which makes it look like a half apple.
“Why is it forbidden?” I ask him, all tease and sarcasm as he opens the front door for me.
“Because it’s a prohibition-style bar. And they do some sinfully good cocktails.”
“Okay now I’m intrigued.” I breathe in the smell of beer, sugar and alcohol and my mouth salivates at the promise of a good, stiff drink.
We take a seat at the bar and order from the cocktail menu when he turns to me and smiles. I divert my eyes from his and look down at his T-shirt, which is visible again now he’s taken his jacket off.
“You never told me. What’s this Anti-Valentine Club?”
He looks down at his shirt and pulls it tight so I can see the heart in the middle of a struck-through circle.
“It’s my club. I started it.”
