Page 25 of That Fake Feeling
“Howabout in the shade under that willow tree?Thereare a few people lying around, but it’s out of the way enough to make it look like we’re trying to be private.”
Heshrugs like a sulky teenager. “Sure.”
Ifthis is all for his benefit, why doesn’t he give a damn?
Connorwalks swiftly toward the tree, about three paces ahead of me.
Itrot to catch up with him. “Wouldit maybe look cuter if we took one handle each?”
Hedoesn’t even look at me. “Let’sjust get there.”
“Areyou in a hurry to go back to work or something?Ithought you were depending on this whole fake girlfriend thing being successful.”
“Yeah.Ihave a meeting.”Hesounds like he might have made that up on the spot. “Let’sjust do this.”
Heopens the basket and yanks out the red blanket sitting on top. “Here.”Hethrusts it at me, pulls out something resembling a wine bottle, and reads the label. “Sparklingelderflower water.Fuckingmarvelous.”
Ishake out the blanket and spread it over the grass. “Wereyou hoping for something stronger?”
“Iwas hoping foranythingstronger.”
“Becauseyou like the occasional drink or because you’re reliant on it?”
Hiseyes meet mine with a lookI’veseen only once before, in the eyes of a kid who’d been accused of smashing another kid’s pottery project when he was completely innocent.
“Pleasedon’t start with that.”Histone is clear and definite. “I’mnot reliant on anything.Idrink only whenIgo out.”
“Andhow often do you go out?”
“Coupleof times a week, maybe.”
“Thepapers make it look like you’re smashed every night.”
“Yeah, and the papers are going to make it look likeI’mthe love of your life.”Heputs the bottle down. “ButIimagine a by-the-book accountant whose tie is always perfectly straight and is home for his dinner at exactly six every evening is more your style.”
Hesteps onto the blanket and sits cross legged smack in the center.
“Youhave no idea who my perfect man would be.”Tobe honest,I’mnot sure myself.
Icircle his blanket island, tugging the edges to smooth it out.
“Goahead, then.Shockme.”He’ssuddenly more alive—engaged and animated. “Tellme your last boyfriend had spiky blue hair, a safety pin through his nose, and was the lead singer in a punk band.”
“Hehad a tattoo.”
“Ofwhat?”Connorasks, looking over his shoulder asIpull at the edge of the blanket behind him.
“EequalsMCsquared.”
“Anequation?” he mocks with a laugh. “Nota fire-breathing dragon, a venomous snake, or a bleeding skull?Afucking math equation?”
Imove to the edge beside him. “Physics.”
“What?”
“It’sa physics equation.Notmath.”
“Whateverit is, it’s the geekiest tattooI’veever heard of.”
