Page 71 of The Wild Card
I scan the page, filled with Collin’s neat writing. We’ve covered a lot of things related to dating or living together over the past hour, many of which did not actuallyneedto be covered. Like, for example, midnight snack rules. Collin insisted that anything in the kitchen is fair game after midnight, no matter who buys it.
“Like, I will pay to replace something I eat,” he said. “But if it’s after midnight, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“I got the impression you were kind of a health nut,” I told him.
“I am,” he said. “But after-midnight Collin is a whole different man.”
Thatcomment threw my brain into a whole spiral wondering about what other kinds of trouble after-midnight Collin would get into.
There are two side-by-side lists, the first with what Collin titled “Roommate Expectations” and the second, “Dating Rules.” I can’t help but notice the way he left the word “Fake” off the dating part. Probably in case anyone ever found this.
Or maybe it’s a subconscious thought on his part?
My thoughts about all of this areveryconscious, and as I scan the lists, I wonder how in the world I’m going to pull thisoff. Thethisbeingpretendingto date Collin when I think I’d prefer toactuallydate him.
As far as roommate things, we agreed to clean up after ourselves and pay for our own groceries, but Collin did request a weekly shopping trip together in case we want to share anything. I’m not sure why I’m so excited about the idea of grocery shopping with him. But I am. Even if it means he’ll realize that I exist mostly on Hot Pockets, which Chase likes to say makes him wonder if I’m really a teenage boy.
We even outlined the social media posting. I explained how I often batch content, and so our plan is to record a bunch at one time, then post one a day.
“I know this is your area of expertise, not mine, but you don’t think we don’t need to do more than that?” Collin asked.
I shook my head. “Right now, people are really excited, which means they’re going to be hungry for more content. Better to give just a little and keep them wanting more,” I told him.
I tap the part of the page dealing with family. “So, we’re telling your family—including Jo—the truth,” I say, reading from the dating side of the list. “But my parents and my employers will stay in the dark.”
“Because the nosy people in this town are always watching,” Collin says. “I’m honestly surprised no one overheard us the other morning at breakfast.”
I remember Thayden telling us a few times to lower our voices, but the diner was busy. And loud.
“Are people here really big gossips?” I ask. “Or is that just a stereotype about small towns?”
“It might be a stereotype, but it’s also true. We need to get you on the Neighborly app,” he says. “Hand me your phone.”
I do, but not before clearing the notifications, which are basically a lot of ignored calls and texts from my family.
“Ew. You’re an Android user?”
“Is that a dealbreaker, Mr. Biceps? The code is 6656.”
“No, not a dealbreaker. But when your plan is up, let’s talk about getting you an Apple. Is 6656 some kind of special date?”
I ignore the Apple comment. One of my first orders of business when I get paid is to get a new phone, one not on my family plan. And just maybe I’ll get an iPhone. I know I hate sending texts to Collin and not being able to see any indication if he’s seen it or writing back.
But I’m certainly not going to go from having my daddy pay for my phone to having my fake boyfriend pay for it.
“It stands for MOLO.” I roll my eyes. “When YOLO was really big, Chase took to calling me MOLO, and now I use that for all of my pins.”
“That’s cute,” Collin says. “MOLO!”
“Please don’t. That can’t be the nickname you settle on for me.”
“Fine. I prefer Molly-girl anyway.”
So do I.
“Also, you shouldn’t tell just anyone your pin number,” Collin says. “Does it work for your debit card too?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” It does, and I realize this is probably not the best idea. But I’m terrible at remembering passwords and codes. “But you’re not justanyone.”
