Page 50 of Playbook
“Someone must have bumped your arm, then.” She doesn’t break my stare.
“Must have.”
We’re only about a foot apart and both leaning in. I don’t know if she’s acting or not, but I’m happy to play my part. My gaze drops to her lips. Tonight they’re painted a pinkish-red that makes them look poutier than ever.
“Then what happened?” Sierra’s question finally drags my attention away from London.
Suddenly everyone at the table is listening in, enthralled. Me too. Chris is the only one that doesn’t look happy to hear the story of how we met. I don’t know if it’s because he’s jealous or just annoyed by me. Either way, I do my best to ignore him and focus on London.
“We spent the whole night talking and dancing, getting to know each other. We closed the place down and then I took her to breakfast.”
“London doesn’t like breakfast food.” Chris pauses with his glass up to his lips.
Well, shit. I said too much.
“I likesomebreakfast food,” London says with a little grit in her tone. “And besides, I would have agreed to anything to spend moretime with him.” She places a hand on my forearm.
I stare down at her fingers. Her nails scrape against my skin as she pulls back and I feel a tingle roll down my spine.
“Awwww.” Sierra’s voice brings me back to reality—the one where we’re only faking. I pretend to be smitten, but it’s not all that hard honestly. I smile at London’s sister, and we share a nice moment. I like her. I like how happy she is for her sister. She lets her head fall over onto Ben’s shoulder as she says, “That’s so sweet.”
The rest of dinner goes by without any more questions for us. Conversation turns to Sierra and Ben, people asking about details for the wedding: has she picked out her dress, what kind of reception are they having, what color scheme is she using, and on and on.
Most of the questions are fielded by Sierra, and eventually Ben turns back to me to talk football. Turns out, he’s been a fan of the Mavericks a long time, and by the end of the dinner, the only person in London and Ben’s families that I don’t like is Chris. Even his girlfriend seems cool.
We stand from the table and I shake hands with Ben while London hugs her sister. Chris and Gretchen stand off to the side. Even if I don’t like the guy, it isn’t in me to be rude, so I go over to him and extend a hand. “Good to see you again.”
He eyes my hand for a moment like he’s trying to figure out how to politely tell me to fuck off, then grasps mine with more force than necessary. What a prick. I smile at his girlfriend as I step back. “It was nice seeing you again too.”
“Bye,” she chirps, completely oblivious to the glare Chris is shooting in my direction.
I guide London through the restaurant with a hand at her back. When we’re outside, I say, “Well, I’d say that went pretty well.”
She hurries down the sidewalk, heels clicking with her short, quick steps. Once she’s a good twenty feet away, she glances back like she’s checking to make sure we’re alone and then exhales.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?”
“I don’t know…being convincing. Although I feel terrible lying to my sister. I could tell she likes you.” She fidgets with her hands in front of her and her mouth twists into a concerned pout.
“I like her too.” We reach my truck parked next to her car. I walk her to the driver’s side door of her car and open it. “Not bad for our first fake date. Although I almost blew it there by saying too much. What kind of person doesn’t like breakfast food?”
A short laugh accompanies her smile. “It isn’t that I don’t like it, exactly. I just prefer other foods. I like French toast!”
Leaning against the frame of her door, I smile back at her.
“And croissants.”
“You like sweet breakfast food then?”
“But not cereal or pancakes or waffles or…” She trails off with a shy smile.
“No, keep going. I’m making a list in my head.”
“What’s your favorite breakfast food?” she asks me instead of continuing with her likes and dislikes.
“I’m not picky about food. Most mornings I have a protein drink with oatmeal and peanut butter in it.”
