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“What’s my name going to be?”
Her head spun in my direction. Her hair flipped and her eyes were literally bugging out of her head. “I'm sorry, excuse me?”
I cocked my shoulder. “I figured, since I’ve already pretended to be your boyfriend once tonight, I can do it again, in front of your family. But I’m assuming that this fake boyfriend of yours already has a name. So . . .” I elongated the “o”, “What's my name going to be?”
Chapter Eight
-Jamie-
What thehelldid he just say? Did he just ask me what his name was going to be?
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I said, a chuckle in my throat.
Elliot cocked a smile, that stupid grin of his staring me down. “Not at all,” he answered.
“There is no way on this earth thatyouare pretending to be my boyfriend for my reunion. It’s not happening.”
But wasn’t he the first person that popped into my head when I even thought about finding a boyfriend? Wasn’t he the one I envisioned when I created a fake boyfriend? He could be Daxton . . . couldn’t he? I furrowed my brow andscrunched my lips.
“Oh okay, I’ll go get Rick. I think he’s still talking to that other girl who paid him attention—” He began to stand up, his finger pointing behind me to where I assumed Rick would be.
Out of impulse—possibly—I grabbed his left wrist. I looked at my fingers wrapped around his skin, the tattoo of an unfinished guitar making me pause. I kept my hand on him, pulling him back down to the bar stool, where I finally looked up and met his gaze.
“I take it you don't want me to get Rick?”
Biting the inside of my lip, I shook my head.
“Listen,” he sighed, putting his free hand on top of mine still holding onto his wrist. “I don't quite understand why you don't like me, but I still very much like you, even as just a friend. I have a job that allows me to step away from a few days—”
“Weeks,” I corrected him.
He chuckled, and looked down, shaking his head before looking at me again. “Weeks,” he repeated. “And I’m serious, I can help you out. I just need to know what my name is.”
With a long sigh I let go of his arm, the warmth from his hand leaving mine as I slapped my palm on my lap. “Just don’t laugh, okay.”
“Have I laughed yet?”
“You just did.”
“That doesn't count. Jamie . . . what’s my name?” he asked again, his tone becoming nothing but serious.
“Daxton.”
Then, as if all cards were off the table and he had forgotten everything he just told me, Elliot burst out in laughter, his chin falling and his shoulder shaking. I watched him, my jaw open as he laughed, using his fingers to dry his eyes. He lifted his head and his smile widened. My previous thought of “it’s not happening” entered my mind again. I couldn’t believe I even contemplated the thought . . .
“Yea, thanks for this, but I’m not going to sit here—” I grabbed my bag from the bar top and began to stand.
“No, no . . . Jamie,” Elliot stammered, trying to get the words out through his laughter. “I’m not laughing at the name; I’m laughing at the coincidence.”
I furrowed my brow and sighed. “Thewhat?”
“Jamie. My name is Elliot D. Whittaker. ElliotDaxtonWhittaker.” He smiled, watching the realization finally hit my brain.
“Daxton is your middle name?”
He nodded, a small laugh leaving his throat. “It’s fate. I’m meant to be your fake boyfriend.”
I heaved a sigh and looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long, well overdue groan before looking back to Elliot.
