“Your offer to go out with me. You still want to go out with me, right?” she asks.
Liza sets down my drink, giving me a curious look, and I stand up, grabbing my glass.
“Can we do this somewhere more private?” I ask.
“Sure,” Ashlyn shrugs, and I lead her to a table in the corner.
After she sits down, I take a seat in front of her and lean in. But before I can say anything, she starts talking.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think both of us could benefit from a fake relationship,” she says. “But I think it goes without saying that there will be stipulations.”
“I agree. We need to set some ground rules for sure,” I nod. “Starting with–wait. Did you say fake relationship?”
“Of course,” she answers plainly. “You didn’t think the relationship would actually be real, did you?”
“Uh…yeah,” I say with a single laugh. “It kind of has to be if we want people to believe it’s real. I’m not going to benefit from it if people don’t buy it. And that means you won’t either.”
“But if it’s a real relationship, that implies we have to have feelings for each other,” she says.
“And you don’t?” I ask, making Ashlyn’s expression short circuit.
“Of course not. I don’t even know you,” she says.
“On the contrary. You know me very well,” I say, taking a sip of the drink I am going to have to go on a water fast for two days to combat. “Every inch of me, if I recall.”
Her look of surprise shifts to hostility as she leans in and talks through her teeth. “Sex does not count as getting to know someone.”
“Maybe not for you,” I say, still smirking despite the danger it puts me in.
“Alright, fine,” she finally breaks. “The relationship is “real,” but that doesn’t mean it comes with all the benefits.”
“Okay,” I nod. “Which ones are we excluding?”
“We will be publicly involved…” she says, and I can’t help but laugh at the way she makes it sound so professional. “Are we entering a relationship or a legal contract?” I ask, and before the last word is even out of my mouth, she is placing a paper and a pen in front of me. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”
“Hell yeah, I’m serious,” she lets out. “You threatened to have me arrested.”
“I wasn’t actually going to do it,” I say as I skim the contract. “Wait. Is there a waiver at the bottom here?”
“Yes. Because the last time I was with you, you destroyed personal property. This clause will ensure that if you break any more of my cameras or anything that belongs to me, I have the right to do something about it.”
“Need I remind you that you broke my pergola?” I ask.
“That was an accident,” she argues.
“An accident that would never have happened if you hadn’t been trespassing on my property,” I point out.
“This is why we have a contract,” she says. “No more threatening to have me arrested. Now, are you ready to sign?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble with a grin as I read the rest of her cute little contract. But then I stop. “Hold up. What’s this about not coming on to you?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” she says. “I understand we might have to get mushy in public. But as soon as the doors are closed, there will be no trying to get in my pants.”
“That’s a two-way street,” I say, pointing the pen at her.
“I’m aware. And trust me, I have no intention of getting…involved…again.”
“Too good?” I grimace.
