Page 12 of Boyfriend Maintenance

I keep taking money from my savings, making my dream of buying my own house on the island seem farther and farther away. I grew up on the island so settling down there someday just makes sense to me.

Damn it, that brown-eyed beauty and her fucking money is looking better and better. I start to contemplate the idea of being her fake boyfriend. I’m for shit not going to pretend to be someone I’m not. And what dude wants to go to a wedding to begin with? There will need to be some kind of bonus tacked on for that kind of date.

Slumping down into my worn leather couch I realize that I’d be a fool to not take this deal. I know I told her she was crazy, but I don’t think Emmy is the same level of crazy as Sara. I kind of feel bad for jumping her shit without considering her offer, but what’s done is done. The point is, I’m considering it now. Since these dates wouldn’t be real, let’s call it a business deal, I’m not at risk of compromising my no-dating-the-residents rule.

All right. It’s been decided. I’ll talk to Emmy tomorrow with a counteroffer.

It looks like I’m about to be the fake boyfriend of some high-society princess.

Chapter 7

Emmy

The dayafter my impromptu request of Jake being my fake boyfriend, I find myself in a rather grouchy mood. When he left our apartment last night, Bex lost it and laughed at the whole situation. Me, I was embarrassed. Also, mad. At both Bex, Jake, and even myself. I'm pissed with Bex because this whole debacle could have been avoided if she had kept her trap shut. I’m annoyed with Jake because, well, he’s a major asshole—a hot asshole, no doubt—but I’m thinking that the hotter guys are, the more asshole-ish they get.

Mostly, I’m mad at myself for stooping so low I’d ask a near stranger to be my fake boyfriend. I barely have ten grand in my savings account, why I would offer all that up, I don’t know.

After leaving work early due to a foul mood, I'm sitting here now, relaxing on the couch. I don’t cut out early often, but my work wasn’t the grade-A quality it usually is, so I left. Now I'm binge watching Marvel’sGifted. Any show with the former Bill Compton is a winner in my book. But I’m always down for a little mutant,X-Menaction. Fortunately, Bex isn’t here to hound me about everythingX-Men. She asks a lot of questions.

I’m just getting into my third episode when my phone rings. I look down and let out a groan. Craig, my ex. Why is he calling me? It’s been nearly two years since I’ve even seen him. I assumed he lost my number. Well, I had hoped he did. Then again, I should have lost his. Unsure if it’s the right decision, I answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby doll. It’s Craig.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re still the only one who calls me baby doll. Which I still hate.”

“You’re still adorable, I see. So, word on the street is that you’re finally ready to settle down.”

“Ugh, no. Where did you hear that?”

“I ran into Kitty today. She said you were missing me and invited me to Levi’s wedding and pre-wedding affairs.”

“Great.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again,” he purrs in that seductive voice he thinks is the secret to him getting laid with. It has the opposite effect on me, it just makes my skin crawl.

“I’m being sarcastic, Craig. I don’t know why, but Kitty made all of that up. And I'm annoyed that she would tell you that stuff.”

“Right, and Kitty would just lie about something like that. I get it, you’re not ready to admit it just yet, so I will take the leap first. I miss you too though, baby doll.”

I groan. “Craig, just stop.”

“I’m looking forward to rekindling our world-class romance.”

I fight a gag, Craig is gross. I know how busy he’s been since we broke up, making his way through all the well-known and wannabe socialites. Looks like I will have to play some hardball to get him to back off.

“Look, Craig, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a jerk, I’m not interested. When we broke up, I was serious. We are never getting back together.”

He chuckles. He’s always had a hard time taking a hint. “Look at you, quoting bad pop songs.”

“Taylor Swift is a phenomenal songwriter.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend the pop princess, but I do it anyway.

“Whatever you say, Emmy.” I can tell by his mocking tone that he’s still not hearing me.

“I’m dating someone and I’m happy with where that’s going right now.”

“Really? Are you really trying that line?” he tests.

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