Page 53 of The Best Book Boyfriend
Tears prick at my eyes.What the fuck?I’ve been so looking forward to tonight, and the two people who matter to me most have stood me up? What reason could there possibly be that they can’t make it? This will go down in history as the worst birthday ever.
My shoulders shake and I hold my breath so I don’t cry while I tuck my phone into my bag. I’m about to get up when the chair across from me slides away, and when I look up, my mind turns to mush.
“Hi,” he says, reaching out a hand to introduce himself.
“Hi,” I whisper, my throat squeaking. I’m frozen in place, so he reaches for my hand and shakes it with both of his. He squeezes gently, his touch warm and reassuring.
“I’m Matthew. Matthew Braverman. You must be Briony. Is this seat taken?”
My jaw is on the floor. I can’t speak, but he sits anyway. It’s him. Luke. Luke in a dark suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned so casually it’s criminal. His hair is pushed back, his beard freshly trimmed, and he smells fucking incredible. He’s leaning forward, elbows on the table, his chin resting on his interwoven fingers, eyes locked on mine.Holy fuck. What is happening?
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask.
“Did you get stood up tonight?” His voice is different. Lower, slower, playful.
“Yes,” I gulp. I’m not entirely sure how to play along here. Obviously, I know what he’s doing. I know this scene inside out.
Briony goes to meet a blind date, Matthew waits outside and when the guy doesn’t show, he walks in to take his place. Silently, they call a truce on their feud, halt their sabotage, and allow themselves one glorious, uninhibited evening. I’ve re-read it countless times, but I also want some genuine answers.
“I was supposed to meet my friends.”
“Well, I simply couldn’t bear to see you left alone. You need better acquaintances.” His face breaks into a smile then a grimace, he knows he’s saying something awful about my favourite people. He lifts his palm to his opposite cheek, whispering from behind it. “I don’t really mean that, don’t tell them I said that. They’ll kill me.”
He’s too much, and I burst into laughter, something just a minute ago I never thought I’d be doing tonight. “Something tells me they were never coming?”
“Well, I’m here now, so let’s turn this evening around,” he says, sitting back and letting his gaze coast down to my neck, my chest. His lips part, and when he pulls the lower one between his teeth, I get that low swoop in my belly. “You look incredible, by the way.”
OK Kara, breathe. This might be fun.
A waiter appears, and he orders an excellent bottle of red wine without even consulting me. If this happened in real life I would be livid, but the way Matthew takes control of Briony’s disastrous date is one of the sexiest things about this scene and,hang on a second,this is my real life and on further consideration it’s definitely sexy.
“So tell me about yourself, Briony. Not the Briony from work who’s cold with everyone and only cares about...” I can see him struggling to remember what Briony inLove To Loathe Youactually does, “...profits. Tell me about the real you.”
I take a sip of my wine and lean back in my chair. “What do you want to know?”
He matches my every move, the wine, the lean, the dark smile. “I want to know everything there is to know about the stunning woman sitting opposite me.”
I must look deranged, my eyes darting everywhere as I take in his hair, his jawline, the tight fit of his shirt, the soft underside of his wrists. I don’t know how long we sit looking at each other, but the longer we stay silent, the more he goads me on with a hard stare.
“I expect you probably think you know me quite well,” I say, taking a sip of my wine as I step into character. “You think I’m cold. Controlling. Lonely.” That’s exactly how Briony comes across, and I take it all on, my voice icy and clipped.
“Are you lonely?”
“Absolutely not. I love my own company.”
“If you enjoy your own company so much, why are you on a blind date with some dickhead who’s not good enough for you?” Briony hates how much Matthew gets under her skin and it’s oddly fun to feel annoyed at his interrogation.
“Why are you such an arsehole?” I ask, lowering my voice a little in case anyone is listening in to our play conversation.
“I have high standards. Why are you single?” he hits back with a tilt of his head, and I can’t believe he’s memorised this scene beat for beat.
“Ihave high standards.”
The smirk on his face is pure Matthew. I’ve pictured it so many times and Luke is nailing it. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“You strike me as a woman with high standards. A woman with great expectations, the kind of needs that not every man can fulfil.” A subtle lift of his eyebrow is the new hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
