Page 17 of Things I Wish I Said
“Okay.” She narrows her eyes. “So why are you here? Why my wish?”
I grunt, unprepared for these kinds of questions. Then again, I’m not really prepared at all. I spent last night getting high instead of thinking about this meeting. “It’s a long story.”
“I have to admit, I was surprised they granted my wish in the first place. When I sent that email it was basically a Hail Mary pass. I mean, what kind of charity gives someone a fake boyfriend?”
I loosen my tie a little more, unsure of what to say. Her candor is unexpected—disarming. “Yeah, well, this is a one-time thing.”
“Why?”
Because my mother’s lost her damn mind?
I shrug. “Look, occasionally, they grant special wishes. Yours was one of them,” I say. Call me crazy, but I don’t want her to know my whole life’s history.
She purses her lips. “I just wonder if it’s ethical.”
“Probably not.”
Which is exactly why it’s not in the books.
This is my mother’s little secret, a handshake deal if I choose to accept it, but this girl doesn’t need to know that. Just thinking about it makes me feel a little like shit. She’s sick, and rather than grant this wish out of the goodness of my heart, I’m only here to get my mother off my back and fulfill my father’s last wishes.
“Then why do it? I mean, why would a guy like you want to be a sick girl’s fake boyfriend?”
“A guy like me?” I scoff.
She motions toward me. “You’re insanely hot, which I’m sure you know. And athletic,” she adds, blatantly eyeing me now. Not so much like she’s checking me out. More in a clinical way, like an outside observer. “A guy like you doesn’t have trouble getting a date, much less a girlfriend.”
“What makes you so sure?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Please. At the very least, you know you’re hot.” She rolls her eyes. “And I can spot an athlete when I see one. Guys like you are at the top of the social hierarchy every single time. Most girls probably fall at your feet.”
I arch a brow. “Most girls?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But not you?”
A laugh bubbles from her lips. “I mean, technically I wished for you, so as much as I hate to admit it, I might as well be included in my assessment.”
I snort.
“Anyway, what I’m really getting at is, when they agreed to grant my wish, I expected someone a little less Flynn Rider and a little more . . . Quasimodo.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Are you seriously using Disney characters in your fake boyfriend analogy?”
“If it works, and what can I say? I have a thing for confident, slightly broody, but secretly wounded men, and Flynn Rider is hot.”
“It’s a cartoon,but whatever.” I laugh, unsure of what to make of her. It’s only been a couple minutes, and already, I’m not sure I’ve met a girl quite like her. “If you expected Quasimodo, why sign up in the first place?”
“Because I’m desperate, and when you have cancer”?she points a finger at herself?“you can’t afford to be picky.”
My brows rise, surprised by her candid admission, but admiring her for it all the same. Still, nothing she’s said since I got here gives me the impression she’s looking for romance. Ryleigh Sinclair doesn’t strike me as whimsical.
“What sport do you play?” She bites her lower lip, her gaze narrowing on my biceps. “I’m guessing football?”
I scoff. Fucking football.
“Maybe I don’t play a sport.”
