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Right in time for Henry to bound up onto the back of the sofa, pad his way along, and sit his fat ass on my head.
That about summed it up.
***
From: Kirsty Jackson ([email protected])
To: Lauren Green ([email protected])
Subject: Fake Date Ad
Hi Lauren,
I saw your ad on Craigslist early this morning when I was browsing. My brother is looking for a date for his ten-year high school reunion this Friday night. Are you free then?
Best,
Kirsty
I blinked at the email.
Holy shit, this was for real.
Henry meowed his displeasure as I sat up in bed, dislodging him from his sleeping place in the crook of my knees.
Someone had actually emailed me about that stupid ad that I’d been talked into placing last night. Why hadn’t I thought that it would happen? I hadn’t actually taken it seriously, but now, here I was…
Staring at an email from someone who was apparently emailing me on behalf of her brother.
I had no idea how I felt about this.
So, I did what any slightly-hungover, tired, and hungry woman would do. I opened up my three-way chat with Tina and Madi and sent them a screenshot.
TINA: OMG!!!! Are you doing it?
MADI: *ten laughing emojis*
LAUREN: This is no joke. What the hell do I say????
MADI: Yes.
TINA: Yes.
I groaned. How did I know they were going to say that? I picked up my phone and slid out of bed, typing my response as I headed for the bathroom.
LAUREN: I don’t even know if I can. I think I’m working Friday’s shift. Stella has a date.
MADI: I saw her yesterday in the store and she was on the phone complaining about guys. Text her and see if she’ll swap.
I really didn’t want to text Stella. I liked her, but she was the kind of person who was larger than life. She had the brightest, bubbliest personality and she could talk the ears off of Dumbo. Working with her was hell because, while she was a hard worker, she tended to get wrapped up easily in conversations. Luckily, our boss knew that, so it wasn’t often we worked together.
I didn’t have a choice, though. If she would swap her Saturday shift for my Friday one—
Jesus, what the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t really going to do this, was I?
Judging by the way my fingers pulled up the messaging app on my phone before I’d even gotten my ass off the toilet, apparently, I was.
LAUREN: Hey, Stella. Do you still have that date on Friday?
I was mid-way through brushing my teeth and thankfully no longer on the toilet when my phone lit up with her reply.
STELLA: Hey. No, I don’t. It fell through. Why?
LAUREN: I might have one Friday and was wondering if we could swap our shifts this weekend. I have Friday 6-close.
STELLA: I have the same Saturday. I’ve got no plans. I don’t mind swapping. Did you ask Pete?
LAUREN: No, I wanted to ask you first. I’ll text him now.
I did just that before I headed downstairs. I was halfway through a bowl of cereal when Pete’s name flashed on my screen with a message saying that he was fine with us swapping as long as I changed it on the roster when I went into work.
That was it, then. I was actually doing this.
I needed to see a psychiatrist.
CHAPTER THREE – MASON
Rubbing one hand through my hair, I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my yawn. The banging at my door was fucking relentless, and that meant there was only one person on the other side of it:
My little sister.
I paused to look through the peephole. Yep, sure as fucking shit, Kirsty was standing there, looking fresher than a field full of daisies.
Morning people like her needed to be shot.
I turned the key in the lock and undid the deadbolt before I tugged it open a crack. “What?”
She grinned, her dark brown eyes sparkling. “I have a surprise for you.”
“No.” I pushed the door shut and turned around.
“Mason!” She banged on the door again. “I’m going to stand here and bang until you let me in!”
I groaned and stopped mid-step. If it were anyone else, I’d leave them there looking like an idiot. The problem was, I knew my sister, and I knew she wasn’t damn well lying. She’d set up camp outside if she had to.
Not to mention that my neighbor, Mrs. Allerton, was the nosiest woman on this planet. She loved nothing more than looking through her peephole at the comings and goings of everyone in the building, and since I lived opposite her, I was her primary target.
She also hated noise, being interrupted during her TV shows, and just about everything else.
“Fine. Just stop banging,” I called, going back to the door. I yanked it open at the same time the door on the other side of the hall did.
