Page 15 of The Problem with Perfect

“Stace and I were thinking maybe Thursday night? If you and Bellamy are free.”

I sigh. Clearly Bellamy didn’t tell Connor she lied to him. When I turn around, trying to find the words to explain to him that the entire thing was made up, I can’t do it. Something inside me just refuses to expose Bellamy like that.

Unlike the other day in my house, I don’t have a bristling desire for Connor to know the truth. That irritation with Bellamy has subsided and is instead replaced by a nagging desire to help her place Connor in her past. Where it comes from, I’m not sure, but it’s there all the same.

“Yeah, I’ll…talk to her about it. Does she have your number?”

Connor nods. “She does.”

“Great. Well…we’ll be in touch soon, then.”

Before he can say or do anything else, I spin back around and grip my sister’s bicep, tugging her down the aisle and around the corner. I can feel her eyes on me, wide and curious, the ripple of surprise a tangible thing radiating off of her. I studiously ignore it as I lead us down the bread aisle for a loaf of sourdough.

“Are you seriously not going to say anything?” she finally asks.

“About what?”

Abby’s head dips to the side and she looks at me, unamused. “About what,” she repeats. “About the fact that you’re taking Bellamy Mitchell on a double date? When did this happen?”

I sigh. “Will you keep your voice down? You’re practically shouting.”

“Are the two of you dating? Because I’m trying to remember even ahintof there being something mentioned about this. Ever. There’s nothing.” She grabs my arm and stops me from continuing down the aisle. “How long has this been going on?” Her eyes widen even more dramatically. “Does Boyd know?”

“It just…happened,” I finally reply. “And no, Boyd doesn’t know. I need to talk to him about it.”

I make a mental note about that, because there’s no way I can fake date Bellamy and not give my best friend a heads-up.

“What do you mean itjust happened? Like…” She leans in and dips her voice lower. “Did you hook up with her? Not that I want the details, but I thought we’d agreed you weren’t going to poach the locals.”

Gritting my teeth, I pin my sister with an irritated look, not liking the way she’s looking at me, not liking the way it makes me feel.

“I don’tpoachlocals.”

“So then…what’s the deal?”

“We’re dating.”

“Dating.” She thinks it over, staring at me with a pinched expression. “Bellamy Mitchell…is datingyou.”

My head jerks back at the implication in her tone. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Actually, yes. It is.”

“Why?”

“Because. She’s Bellamy Mitchell, and you’re…” She eyes me up and down.

“I’mwhat?”

I don’t know how we got to this place, arguing in the middle of the grocery store about a relationship I’m not even actually in, my sister giving me another once-over with that look. I don’t like how it feels.

The idea that my sister thinks something not so nice about me…it stings, and while I might not normally worry about what this town thinks of me in any way, I at least assumed my sister had my back.

My sister who I raised.

My sister who I sacrificed my entire life for.

“You’re not the dating kind” is what she ends up saying.

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