Page 19 of The Problem with Perfect

Something unfamiliar ripples through my belly.

“Shower then jammies and a movie?” Mom asks me as we kick off our dirty shoes on the back patio before entering the kitchen. “I bought Cherry Garcia ice cream.”

“Actually, I have plans tonight.”

Her eyes flick to mine, and something about my expression must give me away because she gives me a shit-eating grin that says she thinks she knows what I mean.

“Plans?” she asks, drawing out the word for far longer than she should.

A little part of me panics inside. The last thing I want is for my mother to begin imagining me falling in love and getting married soon. I might have thought that would be a possibility before Connor dropped the bomb that ripped me apart, but it isn’t anymore.

“Yes, plans.” I walk through the kitchen and over to the stairs off the entry, and I can feel her following in my wake.

“Like…romanticplans?”

I blow out a breath then spin around, pinning her with a look.

“Maybe.”

I barely have the word out and my mother shouts out with joy, her arms in the air, as if she just won the lottery.

“Oh, honey, I’m so excited for you. Do you want my help getting ready?”

Shaking my head and letting out an embarrassed laugh, I turn and continue up the stairs. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

“Alright, well I’m here if you need anything!” she calls as I hit the landing and walk down the hall to the bathroom.

“Thanks!” I call back before shutting the door firmly behind me.

And locking it.

The entire time I’m in the shower, I try to decide how I feel about tonight, about this faux date…with Rusty, my faux boyfriend.

Part of me is grateful. We get the time together to concoct a story that feels real and believable, something that will convince Connor I’m happily dating—even in love. But the other part of me is feeling some pretty big emotions I don’t know what to do with.

I’m still reeling from Connor’s engagement announcement. I’m nervous about trying to pull this off. I’m worried about how people will react to this idea of me and Rusty being together, especially my family.

I’m also irritated at my own self for allowing my feelings for Connor to convince me the best solution was to fabricate an entire relationship to the point that I’ve now dragged a mostly unwilling victim into the fray.

Resting my forehead against the cool tile, I try to imagine how tonight will go. I tend to feel less stressed about things if I can plan them out in my mind ahead of time. It’s why I always read spoilers about movies before I see them, why I check menus online before eating anywhere unfamiliar.

Known is best.

Maybe that’s what’s actually stressing me out the most. As much as I know Rusty, as many memories as I have of him and Boyd rambling around the house over the years as far back as I can remember, I still don’t reallyknowhim, so I don’t know what to expect.

And I don’t like it one bit.

chaptersix

Rusty

“This is Boyd. Leave a message.”

When I hear the beep, I clear my throat. “Hey, Boyd. It’s Rusty.” I clear my throat again. “Just wanted to chat about something. Gimme a call whenever you have a few minutes. Later.”

I disconnect and slip the phone into my pocket then cross the gravel lot of Lucky’s and tug open the front door.

I’ve always loved this restaurant. Dock 7 has been around for a long time but went through a complete transformation when I was in high school that gave it a much more youthful edge. It’s turned into the place to be for tourists, which is how it got its nickname among locals. We call it Lucky’s because if you’re looking for a chance to score with someone just passing through town, this is your best bet.

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