Page 8 of Lost in You (Flirting with Forever 1)

That all happened years ago, though, and I’ve changed since then—grown up—so maybe Shawn has, too. And here he is, offering me a solution to my embarrassing single-lady issue … and he’s even being nice about it.

I roll over to grab for my phone off the nightstand. It’s not like I’m actually dating him. Just fake dating. He’ll be my fake boyfriend and I’ll be his fake girlfriend, and I guess we’ll see how many people we can manage to fool. It’d seemed like he was into it, maybe even a little excited about it. When he’d said the other girls would all be jealous, his bright blue eyes had held mine so steadily, willing me to say yes. So I’d agreed, somehow strangely affected by him after all these years.

Besides, I’d have been a fool to pass up the chance to walk into a wedding on his arm. To show everyone that Madison Green really isn’t the loser who can’t seem to find the right guy.

Even so … I blow out a quick breath. I should give him an out. Maybe he’d suggested it assuming I’d say no or that I’d say he was off his rocker, completely disregarding the offer. Oh God, what if he feels sorry for me? The thought makes my mood sour, and I grimace as I tap out a text to him.

Me: Hey, it’s Madison. Thanks for getting me home last night.

My fingers feel damp with nervous sweat, and I hesitate over what message to send next. I bite my lip, and will the sharp sting in my nose to disappear. I’m not going to cry over letting him off the hook. This is stupid.

Me: I wanted you to know that I appreciate your offer, but you don’t have to go with me to the wedding.

My alarm goes off, and I silence it, rolling out of bed. There. I guess that does it. I stumble to my closet, eyes still a little bleary with sleep. I pull out my NHS sweatshirt along with a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and undergarments and lay them out on the bed. We’re allowed to dress down the day before break, which is good for me given my current state of mind. Yawning, I hustle to the bathroom for a quick shower.

I set my phone on the counter, mumbling all the while about how I’ll probably end up awkward and alone in a corner at this stupid wedding.

Just as I strip out of my T-shirt and sleep shorts, my phone lights up with an incoming text. I go ahead and turn the shower on, then pick up my phone again to look at the text while I wait for the water to heat.

Shawn: Good morning. Feeling okay today?

Me: I’m fine. But if you’ve decided you had an out-of-body moment and hadn’t realized what you were offering …

I bite my lip. Why does it make me feel so damn sad that I’m trying to make him change his mind about going? I hold my fingers under the spray of the water. Hot. I pull my hand back out and take a quick second to finish my thought.

Me: I’m okay with that.

I set the phone on the counter and hurriedly step under the hot spray of water. I make quick work of shampooing my thick hair, then apply a handful of conditioner to the long curls, winding them around and piling them high on top of my head. When I pick up the shower pouf and body wash, I realize my hands are shaking. What the hell? It’s not that big of a deal. He doesn’t have to go with me. I’m okay. Strong, independent female right here, folks.

I sniffle. Oh, Madison. You are such a bad liar.

I’m actually terrified that he’ll back out, and I’m the one who suggested I’d be fine if he didn’t come with me. Stupid.

It’ll be nothing when he backs out, Madi. Just one more blow to your already fragile ego. You’ll go to this wedding alone and just tell everyone to eff off. It’ll be fine.

It may sound fine to the logical part of my brain, but by the time I get out of the shower, tears are leaking from my eyes, and my nose is bright red when I look at my reflection in the mirror. I take a second to blot my eyes and blow my nose before looking at myself again.

Crap. Nothing like going to school on the last day before break looking exactly like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. My shoulders slump as I dry myself off, my pep talk in the shower having done no damn good at all.

I wipe my fingers under my eyes, and notice my phone is lighting up again. When I thumb it open, I’m surprised by the quantity of texts.

Shawn: I knew what I was offering.

Shawn: I’m going with you. It’ll work out, you’ll see.

Shawn: I’m very charming. And a good dancer.

It looks like he’d stopped there to wait for me to respond, and when I hadn’t, another set of texts had come in. Oops.

Shawn: Madison?

Shawn: Hey, are you okay over there?

Shawn: Don’t make me come check on you.

I huff out a frantic breath, and finally realize if I don’t respond, he’s likely to march right over here, and I don’t have time for that. I’ve got to get to work.

Me: Sorry, I was in the shower. You understand that we’ll have to act like we’re really together, right?

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