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“Elliot . . .”
“Come on, Jamie. You can’t keep ignoring me if I’m going to be your fake boyfriend. So, let me take you to dinner and we can figure this whole thing out.”
“I . . .” she stumbled. “. . . have plans.”
I raised an eyebrow, lowering my chin slightly. We stared each other down for a few seconds, her body tensing up more and more as mine grew relaxed. I laughed, thinking about the first time I had actually talked to Jamie—when I was the one who was tense. I was the one stumbling over my words, simply trying to get everything out. And now here we were, months later, roles completely reversed.
Jamie took a quick breath, shuffled her feet and slumped her shoulders. “Fine, I don't have plans.” She walked towards me, patting my shoulder as she passed. “But I’m choosing the restaurant, and you’re paying.”
I smiled, turning to follow her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Chapter Ten
-Jamie-
Elliot sat across from me, his arms folded in front of him and that same smirk on his face. I chose a burger joint for dinner—something simple, nothing fancy, and nothing that served hard liquor. I kept my hands in my lap, my tongue running over my teeth as I tried to find words . . . any words to say. Elliot just waited.
I took a deep breath and raised my hands onto the table, my fingers playing with the silver edge on the linoleum in front of me.
“Okay, I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” I start.
“Ah, so you admit it?” Elliot’s smile grew.
“Yes, okay? I admit it. It’s an awkward situation,” I defended myself, my hands flying back into my lap.
“Not if we talk about it and get the details out of theway.”
“What details?”
“Well, for one, when are we leaving? Where are we going and staying? Your family is going to be there too, I take it? They will expect me to know something about them . . .”
He kept rambling, listing off facts that I knew I would have to give him, but my brain only focused on what Madeline had told me a few days earlier: “You two need to get your story straight if you think your family is going to believe you at all.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” I stopped him. I had begun to tune him out, but my sudden “okay” stopped him. His lips formed a line, and he leaned back into the seat.
“Let’s start small.” He leaned back into his seat. “Where are we going?”
“Hey, you two, I’m Jordan, I’ll be taking your order this evening. What can I get you?”
I looked at the man who stood at the end of the table. Jordan stood with a large smile on his face, his eyes fixed on me. His eyes roamed my face, stopping on my lips a few times, and traveling farther down my body. I was still in my scrubs, my plain, black shirt with a white tank underneath. My hair, still in a loose ponytail, fell over one shoulder, most likely looking like a tangled mess after work. I was tired and uncomfortable and sitting at the table with Elliot, but Jordan didn’t seem to mind that as he checked me out. I shifted in my chair and lifted my hands back to the table. At this moment, I wanted to hide. I could feel Elliot’s eyes on me and then suddenly he moved his arm across the table, taking my hand in his.
“Burger and a coke, babe?” Elliot asked me.
I looked from him to Jordan, who was now looking at anythingbutme.
Babe?
“A lemonade.” I hummed.
Elliot smiled. “Two burgers, two orders of fries, and two lemonades, please.”
Jordan nodded. “You got it.” And then he was gone.
I half expected Elliot to pull his hand away, but he didn’t. His calloused fingers lightly rubbed my palm and his thumb pressedinto the back of my hand. It was warm, comforting, and I didn’t want him to let go.Why didn’t I want him to let go?
“Where are we going?” he asked again, his voice gentler than before. No longer sarcastic and snarky, but instead, kind and comforting.
I looked at our hands and blinked, bringing my attention to him. “Utah. Park City.”
