Page 47 of A Pizza My Heart

“I didn’twantto leave you, Wren. Ihadto leave.”

“Right. Youhadto leave but you won’t tell me why.”

“I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. It’s…a long story.”

“Weird, because I have plenty of time.”

I glance down to the fitness watch I’m wearing. “You only have about an hour and twenty minutes. Forty of those you’ll need for a shower. Another fifteen for your makeup, and another twenty for your hair. You’re only going to have about five minutes to even get this cleaned up. Time is the last thing you have.”

“It’s weird you know my routine.”

“I mean, Ididpractically live at your house all throughout high school. I had to time my bathroom breaks accordingly.”

“Creepy.”

“Strategic,” I bicker. “Aha!” I pull the lone alcohol pad from my bag. “Found it.”

I tear open the packet and reach for Wren’s arm.

Step.Miss.Step.Miss.

“Okay, stop walking for just a minute.”

“I can’t. I have an appointment and she’s notoriously mean. I cannot have her leaving an angry Yelp review on me.”

“The world is so weird these days…” I murmur. “Okay, fine. We can run back to your house. I’ll follow you there and then help clean you up. I know what I’m doing so it’ll go faster.”

“Ugh.Fine.But I get to cut your hair after I get my client foiled. Your hair is looking all kinds of scraggly and if I’m going to be dating you, fake or not, I want my man to look good.”

“One, that sounds creepy. Two, um…thank you. I think.”

“Uh-huh. Now wipe this down and let’s get going before I change my mind.”

I run the moistened alcohol pad over the cut then toss the trash into my bag. We take off at a slightly less than leisurely pace, Wren just ahead of me, Mike pushing me to the back of the group.

Not that I hate the view…

As much as I try to fight it because I don’t want to bethatguy, my eyes betray me and fall right to her ass, which is bouncing quite nicely in her army green running shorts.

Shit, shit, shit. Quit looking, you perv!

I don’t quit looking. I can’t.

Fuck, I curse myself again. I have no idea how I’m going to survive this whole practice dating bullshit. I shouldn’t have pressed her to do it. Hell, I don’t even knowwhyI pressed her to do it. I know it’s a horrible idea.

I don’t want tofakedate Wren. I want todatedate her.

How am I supposed to pretend otherwise?

My eyes follow the lines of her body. Though she loves to eat, you can tell she works hard to take care of herself. She doesn’t have rock-hard abs, but her stomach is toned. Her long legs are tan, the runner’s muscles showing me she really has been running for some time now and this isn’t some spur-of-the-moment jog for her.

“I gotta admit, I’m surprised you took up running of all things.”

“Me? Why?”

“Freshman year.” I grin at the memory. “Track and field. You fell on your ass in front of the entire school during the four-hundred-yard dash and promptly proclaimed you’d only ever run again if someone were dangling a box of Girl Scout cookies in front of your face. That, and you run like a wet noodle.”

She stumbles over her own feet at my words, and I somehow manage to catch her, stopping her from falling.

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