Page 71 of Not Dating Material

I give him a dry look. “Is that why you’re always walking around crying?”

“Nah, because I keep my trauma in a locked box under my bed. Can’t get to me from there.”

“Except the nights it keeps you awake.”

“Good point. Maybe I should move it.”

And now I don’t know whether he’s serious or not. I’m tabling that for another day.

“Can we focus on Xander, please?”

He cocks his head. “Were we not?”

“How good are you at acting?”

“Ehh.”

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence. Why don’t you just scowl a lot—exactly like that—and I’ll do the rest?”

“I’m not scowling.”

I pat his hand. “It’s cute you think that.”

Still, when I jump out of my car, Seven follows me along the driveway and up the stairs to the house. I pause at the front door, taking a biiiig breath, and whisper, “Showtime.”

I throw the door open with so much force it hits the wall inside.

“I can’t believe you did that to me!” I shout, storming into the house. “You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you.”

“The hell …” he says under his breath, and his confused tone alone almost sets me off laughing. Don’t look don’t look don’t look …

“You’re not going to say anything?” I demand.

“I thought I just had to scowl?”

Good lord, he’s terrible at this.

Footsteps rush along the hall upstairs, so I raise my voice even louder. “Of course you don’t have anything to say. You never have anything to say unless you’re insulting me!” And … fuck, what else? Luckily, I’m saved by Madden.

“What the fuck’s up?”

“Are you guys okay?” Xander gasps, bolting down the stairs. He’s going so fast I’m worried he won’t pull up in time.

“No! That was the worst date I have ever, ever been on.”

Seven doesn’t do much more than study me for a moment. “I’m starting to feel the same.”

“What happened?” Xander rounds on him. “What did you do?”

Ah, ooops? Get it together, Gibson. This is supposed to make Xander feel bad, not Seven.

“He’s not in love with me!” I shout, then cover my face and pretend to sob.

Unfortunately, the room goes really fucking silent, which only increases the pressure to make this believable.

I hear Seven clear his throat. “Yeah. Umm. Maybe … maybe if it wasn’t …”

“You took me to a beautiful restaurant … held my hand … gazed into my eyes …”

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