Page 58 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

I can use a slow cooker. He can use everything. I don't know how long he's been "sunrising" with Patty, but he can slice and dice, flip and fry. He and Patty work together seamlessly. I sit on a counter across from them biting my lip. My meds are wearing off, and this is always the hardest part of the day. I typically either get a huge burst of energy and go ultra productive until I drop, or I become a moody, frustrated zombie.

I don't want either.

"You okay?" Rusty asks as he shreds corned beef for a recipe.

"Yeah, my meds are wearing off, so I'm just having a little crash. Nothing to worry about."

"What usually helps when you crash?"

"Well, Millie told me that exercising over the crash will give me a dopamine hit to counteract it, but I think exercise is boring …"

"What do you want to do?"

This conversation is reason seven thousand why I wish I could fall in love with Rusty. Philip thought my ADHD was a joke. He made me feel like I was difficult, like he was so noble for dating someone neurodivergent. Rusty makes me feel accepted with it. It's a part of me, so he accepts it right along with my curly hair and blue eyes. It just is.

It's strange that I keep comparing them, isn't it? It is. It's strange. Rusty and I are fake dating, not real dating.

It's all for show, Ashley Jane. You don't need to keep reminding yourself why you're so lucky to have a boyfriend who loves you for who you are while simultaneously inspiring you to become better.

It's fake.

Is that why I'm so in my head? I don't know how to act or what to think. I don't know what's him being him or him being my faux boyfriend.

I don't know what I want that answer to be.

"Ash?" Rusty asks softly.

His voice pulls my gaze toward him. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, you can't sit there looking that gorgeous," he says. "It's distracting."

I smile. "What a deliciously flirty thing to say."

He smiles back, and his hair flops in front of his face. I hop down from the counter, find his hat, and put it on his head backwards. His smooth, sleek hair tickles my fingers.

"Is that better?"

He meets my eye and then returns his attention to the food. "It is. Thanks."

"Can I help?"

"I think Patty will kick us out if you don't. Want to grate cheese for the Reuben quesadillas?"

"Would that help?"

He gives me a quizzical look. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

I can't explain my question. I can't put my finger on why I feel self-conscious for the first time ever with Rusty.

But I do.

"I don't want to get in the way."

Rusty stops what he's doing and looks me in the eye. "You could never be in the way."

"I don't want to mess you guys up."

"If you make a mistake, we'll fix it or throw it out. It doesn't matter."

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