Page 36 of Surprisingly Us

“You named your cat after your grandfather?”

I shrug. “Why not?”

Before I tell anymore white lies, I steer the conversation back to the task at hand. Getting Lettie on board with dating me.Fakedating me. Because it won’t be real. It’s a mutually beneficial transaction between two friends.

“Come on. It’s perfect. You already know me. We’re friends. The anxiety about meeting a new person will be a non-issue with me.” My gaze falls back on her white board calendar. The one that is jam-packed with a daily schedule, various notes, and appointments. It’s another selling point. I stand up and walk over to the calendar. “Look at this schedule. There’s no time for online dating. I’ll have a few events for us to attend, and some social media posts to make it look authentic, but other than that, you can determine how much or little you want to see me. However it fits into your schedule.”

I can see it in her eyes. The way her forehead softens and her shoulders lower from where they’ve been lifted to her ears.

“Come on, Lettie,” I cajole, giving her my best smile, “will you do me the honor of being my fake girlfriend?”

CHAPTER 9

Colette

I can’t believe Rhys’s proposal. Me and him, fake dating? The idea, on its face, is absurd. Yet, the more I look between him and my unfinished dating profile, I wonder if it really could be an option.

Asafeoption. One that doesn’t involve hives and awkward conversations.

It would eliminate having to finish answering all those profile questions and I wouldn’t have to weed through the responses or purchase stock in hydrocortisone. All the time-consuming online chatting before eventually exchanging numbers, then finally meeting in person. And if the guy is not a fit, back to the drawing board.

What Rhys is proposing is adaptability.

He’d make it fit.

I meanus. He’d makeusfit. Mutually beneficial fitting.

Okay, that’s not making it better. My brain’s already flipped tracks, no course-correcting can keep my eyes from dropping to his crotch.

His shorts are tailored, probably custom, and while I’m sure he doesn’t have a boner right now, I swear I can see the outline of his dick a bit left of center.

My eyes snap back up to his face.

Back to the point.

We already know each other; I wouldn’t have to spend precious training time getting to know someone new. I wouldn’t have to change my routine because I’m trying to fit someone else into my life. Rhys would know my priority is dancing and everything that entails. Outside of the events and dates we would be going on; we wouldn’t need to interact.

The part of my brain rooted in efficiency is jumping up and down.Problem solved! Look no further!

But this isRhys.

My eyes drift back over to him. He’s got Maxine cradled in his arms like a baby, a satisfied smile pulling at her mouth as he rubs between her ears, and under her chin.

I don’t blame Max. Rhys is walking, talking catnip.

His reputation precedes him, and it’s BIG.

In comparison, I was kissed and felt up when I was sixteen at the junior dance academy after which the boy promptly informed me that he was in fact gay and appreciated me helping him come to that conclusion. That’s the extent of my physical experience with guys.

That’s right. V-card still intact, but I’m not a prude. I know how to take care of myself. Or at least how to purchase battery-operated devices to help me.

Hydrocortisone and a good vibrator. That’s really all I need to survive.

But that’s what has gotten me into this situation. I have zero dating experience and therefore a lot of anxiety about dating. Or is it that my anxiety about dating has left me completely inexperienced with guys?

What came first? The anxiety or the lack of experience? It’s a chicken or the egg type question. I’m not sure I’ll ever know.

Now, Rhys is proposing a solution. And it might work. But I need to know how. I need details.

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