Page 29 of The Stand-In Boyfriend

The bubbles at the bottom appear immediately, signaling that he’s typing back, so I wait.

Noah: Oh, she’s alive.

Me: I didn’t answer for like two seconds.

Noah: You usually answer instantly.

Dammit, I hate it when he’s right. But instead of acknowledging his answer, I ignore it.

Me: Again, what do you want?

Noah: Feisty.

Noah: Are you free tonight?

I roll my eyes at that.

Me: Let me check my calendar.

Noah: Fuck that. I’ll pick you up in an hour.

What? Who the hell does he think he is?

Me: I didn’t say I’d come.

What is he up to?

Noah: Don’t be a party pooper, Sunshine.

Me: Don’t call me that!

Noah: One hour. Don’t be late or I’ll ring the doorbell.

Me: Where are we going?

I nibble at my lip, waiting to see a sign that he’s typing back, but there’s nothing. No bubbles, nothing.

Me: Noah?

I wait a few seconds, but still nada.

Me: Don’t ignore me.

Me: I’m not coming if you don’t tell me where we’re going.

Me: Noah!

“Ugh!” I throw myself face-first on the bed, bury my head in the pillow and let out an irritated scream. “I seriously hate that guy!”

* * *

“Not coming, huh?” Noah asks as I slide into the passenger seat of his car an hour later. I was planning to let him wait, but I didn’t want to put his threats to the test. Not with my mom home, snuggled on the couch with a glass of wine and some criminal TV show on.

The grin Noah’s sporting is so big I swear I can see his wisdom teeth. It’d be scary if he didn’t have the most annoyingly perfect teeth, and of course he didn’t have to wear braces to get those either.

Life is sometimes so unfair.

“I didn’t want to risk you actually making good on what you said.”

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