He just said the quiet part out loud.Endgameechoes through my body, making me go stiff, one limb at a time. A wave of dread slowly creeps through me. It’s exactly what I was afraid of. “Not if I can help it.” I wince and rush out, “Dude, I can’t let Lottie get set up with some dreamboat who sweeps her off her feet. You have to help me!”
“All right, I’m in.” Ham stretches his neck, cracking it like he’s gearing up for war. “If you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it right. Don’t make her look stupid, or it will screw this up. And if you think you’re swooping in when she’s all heartbroken, so you can take advantage of her”—he taps my chest with his index finger, causing me to take a step back—“I will personally staple your clothes to your body.”
A joyless laugh slips out before I can stop it, but it’s drowned out by the growl—yes, a growl—he gives me, and I gulp, yes, again, and stutter out, “U-Uh, deal.”
Ham glances sideways at me. “For the record, I’m glad you saved her from Brett.”
My chest warms. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, but don’t you even think about touching her.”
“I won’t,” I quickly reply as I pull out my phone and open my contacts, scrolling right in front of Ham. “Now, help me make a list of the dweebs—I mean, harmless men—who we can set Lottie up with.”
Hiking a brow north, he gives me an angled stare. “So that’s your master plan?”
“I told you, I don’t have a plan!” I screech. “Do I look like a man with a plan?” I urgently gesture to my phone, which only has hockey players in my contacts. Even if her mom said it was okay for her to fake-date a hockey player, there isn’t a single guy in my phone I’d be okay setting Lottie up with. The thought of watching her go on another date—even a fake one—makes my chest nearly convulse. I don’t know how I’ll survive this.
“I’ll tell you what to do,” Ham says thoughtfully as he squares his body with mine. “You need her to go out with someone who is single but still in love with his ex. Then you know the relationship won’t progress.”
“Great idea,” I mutter sarcastically while I scroll. “Let me put an ad out for that. ‘Seeking fake date who is in love with someone else, so he won’t fall for the perfect woman.’”
“Whoa, bruh.” Ham tips his head closer. “This is my sister, dude. She’s not perfect.”
“She is to me.” I barely get the words out. I still can’t believe I’m finally honest with someone about my feelings for Lottie. Sure, it’s not Lottie. But telling Ham is even harder. Maybe if he has time to get used to the idea, he will eventually help me.At this point, I’ll take all the help I can get. I just can’t lose her now—not after all of these years. “I don’t think the ad’s going to work.” I lower my phone, giving up on my list of contacts. “I need to be creative and take her somewhere to meet some dweebs in person.”
“Oh, yeah?” He hikes an eyebrow at me. “Do you know such a place?”
Scratching the back of my head, I rack my brain. Jocks are clearly not safe. I need to avoid any and all gyms, parks, or places where sports are played. I don’t want anyone staring at her, so we will also avoid beaches and pools. No serial flirts either, which means no bars or restaurants. I need to go full-on pocket protector for this operation. Engineers would be a dream, but it’s not like I can walk into an engineering firm and start chumming it up with the nerds by the water cooler. They are too hard to get to.
Nah. I need somewhere public, packed full of dorks like a library or museum.
I look to the side as an idea forms.
I’ve got the perfect place!
eight
Tyson
“Ahhhh.”Tippingherheadall the way back, Lottie stares at the looming façade. “What exactly are we doing at the Smithsonian?”
“I told you, looking fordweebs—I mean, dudes.” I adjust the collar on my shirt as I take in the place. I’ve never been good at anything besides hockey. This is so far away from my normal hangouts, I already feel out of place. But I’m committed for Lottie’s sake. “Apparently, there are lots of intellectual gentleman here. You know, men who are cultured, with refined tastes, and likely Ivy League college degrees. Someone who will be perfect for your mother’s image boost. We just need to find the right person.”
She stares at me as I continue to adjust my collar. I don’t remember ever wearing a shirt with a collar outside of game and media days. It’s not my thing at all. It just seems silly to have all this extra fabric up by my neck, like it’s trying to choke me. Normally, I wear T-shirts or jerseys and athletic pants. Not these preppy dress slacks I’m wearing to impress her today for our excursion.
“Okay, so let’s pretend we find such a person,” she says slowly, as if this still doesn’t make any sense. “You’re forgetting I’m still confused about one thing. Just because we lay eyes on someone doesn’t mean he instantly assumes the role of my fake date.”
“Right,” I’m quick to quip back, my fingers moving in a walking gesture. “Then it’s the easy part—you walk up and ask him to help you out.”
“Are you aware of how insane this all sounds?” She widens her stance, peering at me with narrowed eyes. “There’s no one on the planet who’ll offer that much help to someone they don’t even know”
“It’s not insane at all.” I press my lips together and shake my head.
As if countering my headshake, she juts her chin. “Nobody will agree to lie for a complete stranger.”
I shake my head again. “You only think that because you don’t see yourself. Trust me, you can walk up to any guy here and ask him to help you, and he won’t hesitate.”
Squinting as if confused, she drops her voice to an almost whisper, “Why do you think that?”
