Page 29 of The Hookup Situation
I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. “During our fake relationship?”
“After. Or … I don’t know. We should be prepared if the situation presents itself, right?”
Something hot flares in my chest at the thought of her with someone else.
“For this to work, we should probably be exclusively fake dating,” I tell her. “The last thing we need is a scandal.”
She gives me a look that says she heard the edge in my voice. “That’s fair. We have to keep it believable so Craig will leave me alone—at least until November.”
I lean back, studying her. “What about dates? How often do we need to be seen together?”
“Two or three times a week. Coffee shop appearances, maybe dinner at Bookers, where locals can see us. All the fall activities.” She clicks the pen a few more times. “We should probably establish our backstory, too, because we’ll be asked a lot when the town catches wind. When we got together, how long have we been hiding it, you know, that sort of thing.”
“The truth is always the best answer to that,” I suggest. “It’s a new development. We’ve been talking to one another for about a year and just decided, why not?”
“That’s actually perfect.” She sets down the pen, looking at our list. “I think we’ve covered everything. Clear rules, clear boundaries, clear end date.”
“Very professional.”
She’s smiling, some of the tension easing. “This is crazy, right? We’re actually doing this?”
“Apparently, we are.”
The notebook full of rules sits between us, but somehow, it feels more like a challenge than a safety net.
This is the start of something dangerous, disguised as something safe.
I already know I’m in trouble, and I should leave before I do something silly, like kiss her.
“We should figure out our couple style. Today was a bit chaotic.”
“Chaotic is generous.” She laughs, not a trace of embarrassment now. “Next time, we should aim for less desperation, more casual. But you’re right. What’s our vibe? Are we touchy-feely? Reserved but intimate? Do we use pet names?”
“No pet names. We want believable, not nauseating,” I tell her.
“Agreed. So, about the casual-kissing thing. Maybe we should practice that,” she says, blinking up at me.
There’s something tempting about the offer, but the anticipation is more gratifying.
“Nah,” I say, standing, knowing that’s my cue to go. “Where’s the fun in that? I say we wing it. Livedangerously.”
She looks genuinely surprised. “Mr. Corporate Strategy wants to improvise?”
“Hey, I’m trying to be more spontaneous. When we kiss, it will just be a peck. We can handle it.” I stretch and move toward the door. “Besides, half the fun is the unpredictability of it all.”
“That’s a good point.” She walks me to the door. “I’m looking forward to this.”
“Want to have dinner tomorrow night at Bookers?” I ask.
“I’d love to,” she says.
“Night, Little Red.”
“Night, boyfriend.”
As I walk away, I feel lighter than I have in months.
My phone buzzes before I’m even at the end of her sidewalk.
