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Chapter 16
Bex
I’m an idiot.
James saw that there was something wrong and tried to help, and I shut him down at every turn. If we were actually dating, I’d be a frontrunner for the worst girlfriend ever award. As it stands, I’m a shitty friend.
Is that what we are? Friends?
That doesn’t sit right with me. But what’s the alternative? He isn’t interested in dating, and I shouldn’t be, either. We can be friends while we’re pretending to date, but I’m delusional if I think for a second it could go further. Even if I wanted it—and I don’t—it wouldn’t work out. Rich quarterbacks with Hall of Fame fathers don’t go out with barely-scraping-by, hash-slinging wannabe photographers like me.
And even if we tried, eventually he’d realize I’m not worth it and leave. Just like... Dad.
His future is in a different city. Mine is half an hour away.
We’re not the same, and I need to stop this line of thought, because this dinner is getting more awkward by the second and at the table closest to us another couple our age just sat down, and the way the girl is looking at us makes it clear she knows who James is and would absolutely love to eavesdrop. Even worse than pretending to have a boyfriend in the first place would be Darrylfinding out I’ve been lying about this whole “new relationship” thing.
“This looks great,” I tell the server as she sets my ravioli in front of me. It’s lobster with a tomato cream sauce, something I love but almost never get to eat. She smiles at me, but that shifts into something way flirtier as she sets down James’s steak.
I need to ramp things up if this fake date is going to be successful. Eyes on the prize. I lay a possessive hand on James’s arm. “That looks delicious, honey. Make sure you let me try a bite.”
If he’s surprised, he does me the courtesy of hiding it. “Sure, princess, but only if you share yours.”
I giggle as I make eye contact with the girl at the other table. “So generous of you.”
His hand curls over my arm, dragging me close so he can whisper in my ear, “What the fuck is going on? Two seconds ago, I thought you were going to walk all the way back home.”
I keep up my smile as I whisper back, “That girl over there is staring. I’m making the date believable. Play along.”
To my relief, he settles back in his chair. “You haven’t told me about your day yet,” he says as he cuts into his steak.
I seize on the opportunity, feeling the tightness in my stomach ease. “It was good. I gave a presentation in my management class.”
“How did that go?”
I tear my gaze away from the girl—who really needs to get a life of her own—and look at him as I reply, “Fantastic. I wasn’t that nervous; the professor is very chill. Which, considering the major, is rare. Most of my professors have been seriously intense.”
“I took a couple of business classes before I decided to major in math,” he says. “That’s definitely true.”
“I still can’t believe you do that, by the way.”
“What?”
“Study math.” I make a face as I pop a piece of ravioli into my mouth.
He suppresses a smile. “I like it.”
“I do the books for the diner, and I always mix something up, without fail.”
“Like, by hand?”
I sigh. “Unfortunately. I know there’s software that will do it, but there’s only so much I can do with a cash business.”
“Cash only still? Wow.”
“There’s a lot my mother won’t change.” Whatever my father set in place before he left, you’d think was etched in stone on the ceiling. Making improvements has been a slow, painful process.
Before I can get too far down that road, I change the subject. “How was practice? Who are you playing again this week?”
