Page 39 of Betting on the Boy Next Door
“I take it you’re not telling your roommates about this deal?” I ask as we get to my car. I hold her door open then get in on my side.
“Good guess,” she says.
“Would they judge you?”
“Only for charging you,” she says. “They’d be one hundred percent on board with me being your fake girlfriend. They love shenanigans.”
I pat the steering wheel. “It’s a cliché for a former frat boy to drive a BMW. I know that. But man, I love this thing.” I start the car, and she laughs.
“Somehow the fact that you know it’s a cliché makes it less annoying.”
I back out of the space and put us on the road toward the Rolling Hills Country Club. “It’ll take about twenty minutes to get there, so should we spend some time filling out our backstory?”
“You think we need to?” she asks. “You were smart enough to tell them we’ve only been dating a few weeks, right? How much would they expect us to know about each other? We probably already know it, don’t we?”
“We’ve only hung out a few times,” I say. “There’s lots of stuff we don’t know yet that we probably should.”
“Josh.” She says it patiently.
“Yes?”
“You’re twenty-nine. You went to UT and lived in Brower Hall before graduating and going to Duke for law school. You were in the Fiji fraternity, and you’re working at your family’s firm in corporate law. You work at least twenty hours a week more than you should but still find time to hit the gym. You wear a lot of suits but you’ll pick joggers every time you have a choice. You love your parents but there’s some tension there. You have a special bond with your grandfather. You hate the current state politics but wouldn’t live anywhere else because you love Texas barbecue too much.”
She twists slightly in her seat to look at me. “How’d I do?”
“How . . . what . . . I . . .”
“Am I right?”
I shoot her a quick glance. “That was scary.”
She shrugs and faces front again. “Not really. Not if you’re paying attention.”
“Give yourself more credit,” I say. “Not that many people pay attention.”
“I’ve gotten good at it in the last year. My job. I do a lot of listening. I’ve learned to hear what isn’t being said too. Fill in the gaps. See the whole picture.”
“You’d be a good attorney.”
She snorts. “If nurse and rock goddess don’t work out, I’ll try detective.”
“But as good as that was, Sherlock, there’s still a few gaps in there.”
“Tell me.”
I shake my head. “No way. I want to test these bizarre powers of yours. I’m going to ask a question, you tell me the answer.”
“Go ahead.”
“Am I a PDA guy?”
“One hundred percent.” She doesn’t even hesitate.
“Correct. Did I put moves on you that I forgot about?”
“No. But you’re comfortable in your own skin. People like that are usually comfortable showing affection to other people.”
“I’ve never thought about it.”
