Page 54 of The Bodyguard Affair
I shrug reflexively, my go-to when anyone asks me that. Only, I’m with Nolan, probably the only person I can be honest with. “It threw me for a loop at first. It was so soon after our breakup that it made me kind of paranoid, wondering whether they had feelings for each other while we were together. But I felt like I couldn’t say anything because it’s not like I wanted to be with Hunter. At the end of the day, she deserves happiness.”
“You’re a better person than I am.”
“What would you do? Go and object at their wedding?”
He laughs, considering this for a couple seconds as a voice over the loudspeaker announces the start of the game. “I’d probably go enjoy the vacation out of spite and get completely wrecked at their open bar.”
“That sounds…ridiculously fun.”
“Right? You know what? You should do it.”
“Object at their wedding or get wasted at the reception?”
“The latter.”
I bite my lip, tempted. “What if I do or say something stupid?”
“You won’t. I’ll be right there to stop you from making bad choices.”
I balance myself against the bar, blinking until his mischievous smile comes into sharp focus. “Wait, you want to go with me? To Mexico? What happened to not people-pleasing?”
“It wouldn’t be people-pleasing. We’d be going for a vacation. The wedding would merely be a one-night obligation and excuse to drink for free.” He grins sideways at me as I ponder. “Why not? I have the vacation time, and so do you on paper, even if you don’t feel like you can take it.”
The thought of going alone was terrifying. But going with Nolan? That changes everything. So I hold out my hand to lead him back to our seats, raising my head a little higher than before. “You know what? Let’s go.”
Chapter 23
Nolan
The crowd buzzes with excitement, animatedly recounting the notable plays, the wild touchdown that tied the game. Admittedly, I didn’t see any of it. In fact, I didn’t pay much attention to the game at all.
Even when Andi and I weren’t talking, my mind was racing. First, there’s all the questions I want to ask her, all the things I want to know about her. Then, there’s the fact that we were holding hands. We’ve held hands before, but sitting there today with her made me feel like a ten-year-old again, pathetically losing it over the weight of her fingers intertwined in mine. The barely there thrum of her pulse, making me startlingly aware of every movement, every flex and squeeze. The way the warmth of her spread into my entire body, lighting it up.
By the time we funnel out of the stadium and onto the sidewalk, I’m not ready to end the night. So I suggest we take awalk along the canal. It’s a warm night. It feels peaceful, especially with the city lights shimmering over the still surface of the water.
“Tonight was…fun.” She says it contemplatively.
“You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I was pretty nervous to come here tonight,” she admits, her eyes fixed on the pathway ahead. “I know we’re not actually dating, but in social situations, I always overthink it and blank, especially with guys. Then I end up rambling and talking about embarrassingly niche topics, like emissions reduction targets. That actually happened, by the way. I almost put a guy to sleep on a date in grad school talking about climate change policy.” God, this woman is smart. I love it.
I resist the urge to tell her I could listen to her talk about climate change until the ice caps melt. Any policy. But I settle on, “Anyone who thinks saving the planet is boring strikes me as a massive asshole.”
“He was a dick, come to think of it. He told me that he didn’t recycle because it wastoo complicated. Anyway, that guy aside, I’m terrible at dating in general. That’s why I don’t do it.”
My chest pinches when she says that. “I think you’re probably better at it than you give yourself credit for. But how will you ever get good at it if you don’t try?”
She shrugs. “I—I don’t know. I don’t enjoy trying things I’m not good at. It’s one of my worst traits.”
“One of?”
“I have a couple,” she says wryly, the moonlight catching her profile. She looks obscenely gorgeous tonight. “I’m really selling myself here as a great fake girlfriend, huh?”
A snort rises out of me. “You know what? I like the honesty. I feel like this is how people should date. I feel like people aren’t really themselves on first dates.”
“That’s very true,” she says, her gaze following a couple strolling hand in hand, chatting softly. “That’s the problem, actually. People are too busy putting their best foot forward, and then inevitably the flaws start coming out after you’re already dating, little by little, which is probably why most relationships don’t work out.”
“Possibly,” I say, considering it. “It would be ideal, knowing someone’s bad traits before getting in too deep. A flaws section should be up front on every dating profile.”
