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“Yes,” I whisper.
“Then I’ll be there.”
“But what about?—”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you,” I say, suddenly feeling emotional. “You don’t have to do any of this, but…I just want you to know I appreciate this.”
“Anytime,” he says with a pat to my hand. “Now, I’m going to need your cell phone number.”
“Oh. Makes sense,” I say, rattling off the numbers to him. “Send me yours. I’ll reach out next week to coordinate.”
“Oh no,” he says shaking his head. “I’ll need to see you before then.”
“You do?”
“Of course,” he says. “For this to work, people have to believe I’m your boyfriend. And not just a little handhold here or a dance there. People, specifically Fuckwad, need to think we’re in love. And that’s not going to happen without a little get-to-know-each-other time.”
Oh. I mean, I guess he’s right. I hadn’t thought about that. “Okay. That makes sense. But how are we supposed to make people think we’re in love in a week?”
He smiles. “You just leave that to me. Be ready at two on Sunday. And don’t forget socks.”
CHAPTER TWO
MAX
“Play it cool, man. Just play it cool.”
That’s probably the tenth time I’ve said that to myself on the drive to Andi’s apartment today. And I might be repeating the words over and over in my head, but the message isn’t hitting the rest of my body. I’m bouncing in the car like a toddler who has just had sugar for the first time. My hands are sweaty, and my brain is racing a mile a minute.
All because I’m finally getting a chance with Andi.
A chance I never thought was going to happen.
Yes, I wanted to spend the day with her because we do need to get to know each other a bit outside the bar for this to work. We need to get comfortable around each other, and that doesn’t happen just through a few text messages. What better way than to go bowling? A little competition. A little beer. A little fun. It’s perfect.
It’s also a good way to show her I’m not the playboy she thinks I am.
I mean, I am. Or I was. Was is a better word. Because she was right to ask if I could keep my hands, and eyes, to myself for a night. My actions over the time she’s known me haven’t given her a reason to think otherwise.
In my defense, I never in a million years thought I had a chance with Andi, so why would I have needed to be on my best behavior?
The first time we met, the woman literally knocked me off my ass. I remember not being able to breathe, that’s how beautiful I thought she was. Then we started talking, and laughing, and I was enamored. Still am. And why wouldn’t I be? She’s funny, beautiful, smart, and just…everything. She’s the whole damn package.
Then I found out she had a boyfriend, and I deflated like a pool float.
I had never felt so defeated. Hopeless. I mean, I was never a long-term relationship kind of guy, but for Andi, I was thinking maybe I could be. Which is probably why I went from the flirty, here-for-a-good-time-but-not-a-long-time kind of guy to the man slut I am today.
Yup. That’s what I am. First step to recovery is admittance.
Was it fun? I’d be a liar if I said no. I’ve had any woman I’ve wanted, whenever I’ve wanted, and sometimes as many times as I’ve wanted, over the past four years.
Little did I know that those actions had consequences where Andi is concerned. Because here we are: she’s single, I’m single, she needs a fake boyfriend, and she only picked me because of timing and circumstance.
And all to get my dick wet.
But today is the first day of changing that. She might not think this is a date—and technically it’s not—but that doesn’t mean I can’t show her that I can be a good fake boyfriend. Maybe she’ll realize I could be a good real boyfriend, too.
