Page 53 of How He Got the Girl
“What can I do if I can’t talk or touch you?”
“Sit there and look pretty.”
“At least she thinks I’m pretty,” Griffin mutters under his breath.
Maybe miracles do exist because the car remains blessedly silent for the remainder of the drive to his house, granting me the peace I’ve been craving.
Once I park in his driveway, Griffin gets out of the car and leans on the frame, poking his head back in. “Do you have any plans Friday night?”
“I have girls’ night with my best friends every Friday. It’s tradition.”
He smiles. “I’d love to meet them.”
“I wasn’t offering—”
“There’s a Winter Market downtown that night. It would be a great photo op, and I feel like I should meet your friends since they’re my friends by proxy. You know, the whole ‘what’s yours is mine’ part of a relationship?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“I mean, I would…but there would be a lot of begging involved first that you probably don’t want to deal with.” He shoots me a crooked smile—the one that I’ve never seen on-screen. “You may as well avoid all the begging and say yes now.”
“Fine,” I groan. “We’ll be there.”
His grin widens. “I’m looking forward to it.” He starts to stand before his annoying face reappears in my car. “Text me when you get home, please?”
“Seriously?” I huff. “You already are infiltrating all areas of my life, and now you want me to text you all the time?”
His eyes drop to the driveway, and his smile falters. “To let me know that you made it home safe.”
Well, now I feel like the world’s biggest jerk.
“Oh.” My voice sounds as small as I feel. “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”
He nods, still averting his gaze. “Good night, Mallory.” Griffin shuts the door and walks inside.
It shouldn’t bother me that he said my name rather than a playfulgood night, beautiful.
I don’t like him. He’s my fake boyfriend, and I intend for us to stay like that until we part ways at the end of this contract, never to see each other again.
But then why is my heart twinging with something that feels awfully close to sadness for the duration of my drive home?
IwalkthroughtheChristmas Market with a pep in my step after I spot Mallory standing encircled by a full entourage of people. It’s a cold night with the bitter chill of winter in the air, but I don’t notice. Just spotting Mallory across the crowd sends heat rushing to my cheeks, warding off the cold.
She’s in her signature pink plaid coat—the same one she wore on our first date. Memories fill my mind of her wearing it, ofkissingher in it. She’s also wearing black pants tucked into the same ankle boots she wore for our photoshoot. But it’s the smile on her face that has me blushing—a genuine one that I haven’t seen since our first date all those years ago. This one is aimed at her friends, but my romantic heart doesn’t seem to know the difference.
I hold two fingers up in a small wave as I approach them, and her smile falls. Her reactions have me feeling more whiplash than a wooden rollercoaster. I mean, sometimes it looks like she wants to kiss me, and other times it looks like she’s plotting my demise. Okay, not really, but I can feel her apprehension. I still need to get to the bottom ofwhy.
“These are my besties.” Mallory gestures to the women beside her.
“I think I know them from your descriptions.”
“From three years ago?” The look on her face says she doesn’t believe me. “By all means.”
The first woman is a tall blonde. She’s wearing one of the fancy coats I’ve seen some actresses in, and her hair is curled and up in little buns with some type of silk wrapped around them. “You’re Alyssa, the hairdresser.”
She taps her nose. “Spot on, movie star.”
I turn to the second woman, who is glaring at me with her arms crossed. She looks small but mighty, just like Mallory. Her caramel-brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail. “You’re definitely Kelsey.” I nod to the tall, muscular man standing behind her. “Which makes you Tyler.”
