Page 21 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
I turn the bottle around in my hand. “You got this for me?”
“For your nose.” He taps his plastic fork against his nose before slicing the sandwich down the middle, passing half to me.
“Oh, no, thank you.” I quickly push the plate back toward Julian.
“C’mon, I can’t eat an entire foot-long by myself,” he pleads, pushing the plate back more intently.
Looking at the sandwich makes me woozy. “I’m fine, really.” But my stomach betrays me, falling for the allure of carbs and mayo, growling loud enough that Julian chuckles.
“Consider this practice.” He pushes the plate back again. “If we can survive eating together, we can make it through a cocktail party.”
I frown at the sandwich. It does look better than I remembered…
“Thought so,” Julian says under his breath when I let out a low moan around my first tentative bite.
“Shut up,” I mutter, hanging my head in shame as I take another wolfish bite. It’s not the best thing in the world, but I was stupid enough to think I could make it through a mile-long walk on half a granola bar. Maybe the food poisoning incident was partially our fault. We should’ve known something called a “Meat Mayhem” wasn’t going to go down well.
“So, tell me about yourself,” I say once I’ve eaten most of my sandwich half.
“Why?” he asks warily.
“If I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend, I should actually know stuff about you, right?”
Julian purses his lips and scratches his head. “Like what?”
For someone who’s trying to shake off an ex, he seems as inexperienced at romance as I am. “Anything, really. All I know is your family’s loaded, your brother plays football, and your sister was in an Old Navy commercial.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
Let’s start off simple. “Favorite color?”
“Don’t have one.”
“Okay…Favorite movie?”
He hums before shaking his head. “I don’t really watch movies.”
I bite back a dramatic sigh. I figured Julian was dull, but I didn’t think he was “I don’t watch movies or have a favorite color’ ” dull. He dabs neatly at the mayo dripping from the sandwich before taking a bite. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat a sub so neatly. It’s unsettling.
“Favorite book?” I ask, tearing my eyes away from his plate.
This one stumps him. His face scrunches up and he snaps his fingers before replying,“Titus Andronicus.”
“First of all, that’s a play not a book. Second of all—seriously?”
“What?”
“Who picksTitus Andronicusas their favorite Shakespeare play?” I’m not a big Shakespeare fan to begin with, but the three weeks I spent readingTitusbored me to tears. I made it through the first fifty pages before SparkNote-ing my way through the rest of the class.
“Me,” he retorts defensively. “What’s your favorite book, then? Since you’re apparently the pinnacle of good taste.”
Easy.“Catcher in the Rye.”
“Are you kidding me?” he scoffs. “That’s the most pretentious book you could possibly pick.”
“Is not!” Admittedly, I haven’t read many books to begin with, but still. It’s an American classic.
“Yes, it is! Holden evensayshe’s pretentious.”
