Page 13 of Home Run Fiancé
It’s deathly quiet in the car. I creep forward, not wanting to hit any of the people still trying to get a picture, but needing to get out of there before either of us drops the act and ruins everything.
We’re on the freeway by the time Rhys finally talks, her voice surprisingly quiet. “Was it really necessary to spring it on me like that?”
I shrug, not wanting to give voice to everything that kiss turned into. “Hey, you were the one that said everything was too scripted. Thought I’d follow what you wanted.”
She snorts, louder than any woman I’ve ever heard, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car. “Oh,nowyou’re following what I want?”
I smirk, having more fun than I have in a while. “You bet, babe.”
She makes a strangling noise and stares out the side window.
I sit back and get us home safely, a satisfied smile on my face. Tonight went far better than I expected.
6
Rhys
“Where exactly are you going?” Asher’s all business, trying to write down what I have planned for the second date with Jake. He says he needs to tip off the paparazzi, but really, I think he’s just trying to keep track of what I’m doing.
After our first date, and the resulting pictures and articles circulating on the internet, Asher called me to congratulate me on a job well done. Layered beneath the congratulations was a concern I couldn’t fault him for. The pictures looked salacious. The kiss was plastered on the magazines at the grocery store for all to see. We looked like a couple in love, so caught up in each other we weren’t even aware of our picture being taken.
I had no idea I was such a great actor.
Apparently, Asher didn’t either because he reminded me no less than five times that these weren’t real dates and I had to keep my distance. I reassured him I hadn’t even talked to Jake after our first date, and I hadn’t. I’d spent that night tossing and turning, wondering, not for the first time, what I’d gotten myself into. I’d woken up the next day and everything had been back to normal. No word from Jake. No cameras outside my front door. Just life as usual.
Yet everything felt different.
The magazines were calling me a “mystery woman.” Asher warned me it would only be a matter of time before they found out who I was and began to hound me. Which had me worried. I was supposed to be a college student, but some reporter would find out soon enough I wasn’t registered at any of the colleges nearby. Which meant Asher would find out.
I wracked my brain for a whole week on how to break the news to Asher, but hadn’t gotten confident enough to do it. That and I had a date with a famous baseball player to plan. What do you do with a guy who has special access to everything in the greater Los Angeles area? In the end, I decided to go with what I wanted to do. Jake would just have to tag along.
“We’ll take my car, hit Santa Monica for some sun and swimming, then dinner on the pier. I’ll text you when we’re about to head to dinner. That’d be a good time for pictures.”
My cell phone wedges perfectly between my ear and my shoulder as I run around my apartment trying to get a huge mesh beach bag together of everything we’ll need. Towels, sunscreen, sunglasses, dry clothes to change into after swimming, car keys, food, and water. I insisted that I coordinate this date so I had to make sure it went well.
“Okay. Have fun and remember what we talked about.”
I roll my eyes. “I got it. Don’t worry.”
I hang up and jam my feet in some flip-flops before running out the door. My car is parked a whole block away—thank you, LA parking—so I lug my huge bag on my shoulder and try not to start sweating in the hot mid-morning sun. It’s a perfect spring day for the beach, full sun, just a little breezy, and a Monday when most people are at work. Jake communicated through Asher that today was his one day off so if we were going to have another date, today would be ideal. I had to assure Asher missing classes today wouldn’t be a problem, guilt eating away at me the whole time.
I really need to tell Asher everything or I’ll end up with an ulcer at twenty years old.
I pull up to Jake’s place right on time, finding parking no problem in his ritzy neighborhood. I’m just climbing out of the car to go get him when he comes bounding down the stairs, looking far more handsome than any man has a right to. He’s in a simple T-shirt, board shorts that show off his tan, and sunglasses. The bag over his shoulder is much smaller than mine, but maybe he didn’t feel the need to pack two full changes of clothes and three pairs of shoes.
“Hey. Ready?” Jake throws his bag in the back seat and slides into the passenger seat, his signature frown in place. He bumps his knees on my dashboard and all his neighbors there in Echo Park can hear his curses about the size of my VW Bug.
I steal a moment to take a deep breath and remind myself why I’m doing this before climbing back into the driver’s seat. If he wanted a comfortable car, he should have offered to drive.
“Hey yourself. Ready to have some fun?”
He shrugs, looking out the windshield. The lack of eye contact is unnerving. “I was looking forward to napping today, but the beach will have to do.”
I start the car and pull away from the curb. “Kind of hard to have a public date while one person is napping.” What a jerk. He’s the one who suggested we have another date today. The least he could do is pretend to be happy about it. And why does he have to look so good while he’s being annoying? That wet hair, freshly combed back, plus the cologne I still can’t place is a wicked combo.
Quickly getting stuck in traffic and not feeling comfortable with the silence in the car, I turn up the radio. He doesn’t want to talk? Fine. I’d rather listen to music anyway. The silent treatment is just weird. I thought we’d had a good date last week. We’d teased each other, had a bit of fun, despite the fact it was a fake date. I’ve only been kissed a few times, but I know we both enjoyed that kiss. He’d looked as confused as I felt when we broke apart. And the press hasn’t sniffed out our fake relationship. All in all, it went great, which didn’t explain the silent treatment today.
We get off the freeway, and when the beach parking lot is in sight, I finally brave a comment. “Are you going to be mute the whole day or are you just saving your voice for the actual date?”
