Page 9 of Fumbled Into Love

I’ve been trying to put myself out there and explore the dating world outside of the apps. Meaning, I’ve been going out with the intention of meeting someone on the street or in a coffee shop, or in the dairy aisle of a grocery store and then falling madly in love.

Have I initiated a conversation with any of the men I’ve seen? No, but I did glance at them multiple times and if that’s not a glaring sign saying ‘I’m single and ready to fall in love’ then I don’t know what is.

I’m delusional, but last week, someone bought my coffee in the drive-through line so maybe there’s hope for me yet.

Regardless, I can’t have a meet-cute with the love of my life if I’m fake-dating Deon Adams. He’s too attractive and it will drive away all my potential suitors if they assume I can pull in someone of his caliber.

Deon recoils, stumbling over his words.

“But I—Declan said—please,” he begs, eyes wide as saucers. “I fucked up and I need help un-fucking it up. I needyouto helpme.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. “There are alreadydozensof articles speculating about who my girlfriend is. There’s a hashtag on Twitter!” His voice raises two octaves.

My resolve wavers as he sits on my couch looking like a kicked puppy. His lower lip pouts and I know I’m fucked. How does anyone deny a tall, incredibly attractive NFL quarterback when he asks you to be his fake girlfriend?

I snatch his phone, scrolling through the articles.

Who is Deon Adams’ secret girlfriend?

Deon Adams moves on after a failed engagement.

New girl for star quarterback Deon Adams?

Deon was engaged once?

I refrain from asking about it. He’s kept that a secret for a reason.His hope grows the longer I sit and contemplate his proposal. The idea is ridiculous and it undoubtedly ends in me embarrassing myself someway, somehow, but the sheer desperation in his eyes outweighs my reservations.

I suck in a deep breath. At least it will be a story to tell later in life.

“Fine…I’ll do it.”

The smile that blooms on Deon’s face is blinding and my stomach flutters. He has an incredibly dangerous smile. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”

His arms engulf my shoulders in an awkward hug and I hang limp, shocked that Deon is hugging me. His cologne lingers in my nostrils as he pulls away.

“When are you free this week?”

If we’re going to do this, we need to establish rules and create a social media footprint to prove we’re ‘dating’ because this plan is a logistical nightmare.

“Uh…I’m free Friday before we leave for Tampa.”

“Good. Come to my office. We have shit to plan.”

“Plan?” Deon asks fearfully. “What do we need to plan?”

I refrain from slapping my palm against my forehead.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say airily, “maybe how to pull off this insane ruse considering we know nothing about each other. We need a backstory. How did we meet? Did you fall in love first or did I?”

Deon frowns.

“Fine, maybe we need a plan,” he grumbles, eyebrows pinched in annoyance.

Rising on shaky limbs, I corral Deon toward the door, needing space to comprehend what asinine thing I agreed to because he’s desperate and the eldest daughter syndrome kicked in, ready to fix whatever issue needed mending.

“See you Friday,” I say as I shoo him out the door and immediately snatch my phone to text my traitor of a friend.

A little warning would have been nice.

Declan: Congrats!! You finally have your first boyfriend.

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