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“Thank you,” I tell her without saying what I really want to say, and she gives me a side grin.
“Well,” she says, her tone changing. “I guess it’s settled then. We’ll have to come up with a plan, transfer the plane ticket to your name, then start learning all the nitty-gritty about each other, so our fake relationship is believable at least, because, trust me, with my family, you’ll get the interrogation of your life.” She stands, seeming happy that we have a plan.
“Yep, I guess so. Now you’ll have to tell me all your secrets,” I taunt, but as I glance in the top drawer where the engagement ring Brandon bought her is tucked away, I know that not everything can be discussed. Some things have to stay buried deep inside.
“I’m an open book, but tomorrow, it all starts. You might not want to be my friend after you learn some things about me,” she jokes.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Impossible.”
“When I was a kid, I loved to eat sugar and butter sandwiches.” She shrugs with a giggle.
“That’s beyond disgusting,” I tell her, laughing. She doesn’t respond, only smiles as she walks out the door, and then she’s gone for the night.
The word friend lingers around my head and brings me back to reality. I have to remind myself that we’re just friends, regardless of how close we’ve grown. If it’s the only way we can ever be, then I will selfishly take it, even if it shatters me in the end.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lennon
“Take a selfie with me,” I say, plopping on the couch next to him, so close that our shoulders touch.
“Another one?” he asks with a laugh, side-glancing at the way my body presses to his.
I hold out my phone until our faces are in the frame. “Can you at least look like you’re happily married?” I tease, scooting even closer. “Put your arm around me or something. We’re supposed to convince them we’re newlyweds and all.”
Hunter clears his throat, rubs his hands over his jeans, and then wraps his arm around me. It falls to my hip so I can lean into him, my shoulder resting against his chest as my forehead presses against his cheek. “Say cheese!”
I hold my phone up again, and we look into the camera. Hunter’s forced smile makes me laugh. “Can you at least pretend you don’t hate pictures? I need to load my Instagram with a variety of photos of us. My parents and their nosy friends will no doubt ask to see some.”
Considering my parents always wanted me to get married in the church, they’ll definitely be suspicious. So I made a fake Instagram account, started loading pictures with overly sappy posts, and followed all kinds of random accounts so they’d follow me back. I have to make it as believable as possible.
“Let’s try a few more,” I say, scanning through our other pictures. It’s been over a week since Hunter suggested this plan, and we still have a lot to do before we leave in two days.
When I tuck my legs under my butt and wrap my arm over his shoulder, he tenses. “What? Is this not okay?” I ask, feeling self-conscious.
“Oh no, it’s fine.” He clears his throat again as if he needs a second. “I just don’t like taking pictures.”
I furrow my brows. “Really?” Brandon and I took hundreds. “Too much of a manly man?” I tease, and he cracks the tiniest of smiles.
“Nah, it’s fine. We’ll take all the ones you need,” he says, leaning in close to me when I put my phone up again.
I snap three in a row, resting our cheeks together like the super cheesy couple we’re pretending to be. Part of me wants to laugh at the irony, the fact that I haven’t ever seen Hunter with anyone serious and now here he is taking selfies with me.
“Do you mind if I kiss your cheek?” I ask, looking over the photos.
“What?”
I snap my eyes up to his when the word comes out hoarse.
“For a picture,” I confirm, noticing his nervousness. “This was your idea, remember?” I snicker, and his shoulders relax.
“Yes, I know…for you,” he reiterates with a grin.
“Hunter,” I say softly. “I know you want to help me out, but if this is going to be too uncomfortable and awkward, I won’t be upset if you want to back out. I know you probably don’t have a lot of experience with relationships and maybe didn’t realize everything that we’d have to do to make this look real, so—”
“Lennon, stop,” he growls, turning to face me. “I’m not backing out. I said I’d do whatever you needed, so don’t be afraid to ask, okay? I can handle it.” His words come out confidently, and though a tinge of guilt surfaces at what we’re doing, I know it’s the only way. Once I confirmed my visit with my mother, she was so excited. I told her I had a surprise guest coming as well but never said who. She’ll be getting a son-in-law and grandchild all at once.
