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We walk toward the exit, my mind racing. I can't like Wilder. Wilder is Cash's best friend. Wilder tortured me all through high school. Wilder is morally gray and mindlessly aggravating. I can't... I can't like him. That's... there are rules. Rules like don't fall for your ex-boyfriend's best friend.
But for some reason, when it comes to Wilder, rules don't seem to apply.
Chapter 12
The Golf Course
"What's the plan, Blondie?" Wilder yawns beside me in his new khakis and polo as we scope out the country club from my car. "Since I'm not allowed to barter my body for favors anymore, you're going to have to start pulling your weight."
"I'm thinking," I snap at him as I adjust the pink pleated skirt on my thighs.
"Don't think too hard," he smirks. "Hate for you to lose even more brain cells."
"That joke is getting really old," I shake my head. "Get some new material."
Wilder rubs his hand over his face and huffs. No response. I'm starting to miss the old Wilder. The one who always had a witty comeback.
"What if we just pay like everyone else?" I suggest.
"We agreed to sneak in," he reminds me while rolling his eyes. "Paying for a round of golf is not sneaking in."
"Right," I clear my throat. "That only leaves us a few options then."
"Which are?" he asks.
"First, we become friends with whoever is in charge of renting out golf carts. Then, we save their life from an unknown threat and call in a favor afterward to help us sneak in."
Wilder stares at me, unamused. "In what universe would that even be a possibility?"
"Everything is a possibility," I scoff. "Aliens could literally descend upon us in their massive mothership right now, deploy several circular-shaped saucers to destroy all major cities in an attempt to take over Earth, and our only means of survival is a fighter jet carrying a pilot and a guy who writes computer virus codes."
"Did you just tell me the plot of Independence Day?"
I nod. "I did."
Wilder rubs his temples. "You are... impossible."
"I'm not great at this, okay?" I shrug. "I don't sneak into things. I don't have fun. Or go on adventures. I... I spent the last four years of my life trying to fit into Cash's world and hoping it would be good enough for his parents."
"And where did that get you?" Wilder raises a dark eyebrow.
Where did it get me? It got me here. Sitting in a car beside my arch-nemesis trying to find a way to sneak into the country club to play a round of golf.
"I'm trying Wilder," I tell him. "I really am. I just... I'm not great at this yet."
He gives me a small smile. "That's the spirit."
"Another option is to try and blend in with that group over there," I point to what looks like a corporate retreat event, "and hope no one notices we're not with them."
Wilder grins. "That's it! That's our way in. Let's go."
As Wilder walks next to me, I lower the crisp white ball cap on my head and adjust the golf bag strap on my shoulder. Wilder has one hand situated on the strap of his bag and the other swaying beside him.
"Why do you look so confident?" I say to him.
He laughs. "It's called faking it 'til you make it, Blondie."
Fake it 'til I make it? Well, I did do a lot of faking with Cash. I'm sure I can use those skills outside of the Allred mansion. In the real world.
