Page 62 of Play Along With Me
"I'm finding that out," he says, but he's smiling now, the tension leaving his shoulders. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you came tonight. Both of you," he adds, including Leila.
"The nachos alone were worth it," I assure him. "Though I may need to take on a third job to afford another serving."
"I will make this up to you," Jake promises. "Whatever you want. Just name it."
I pretend to consider. "Unlimited nachos at future games? A personal tour of the horrifying financial disaster that is professional sports concessions?"
"Done and done," he agrees immediately. "Plus dinner at any restaurant of your choice after tonight's ordeal is over."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," he says, echoing my earlier words. "If you're willing to suffer through dinner with my parents and my ex as my fake girlfriend, the least I can do is provide real food afterward."
"I'll leave you two to sort out the details of your sudden relationship," Leila says, clearly amused. "Audrey, text me later so I know you haven't been kidnapped by the Marshall family."
"Kidnapped I already am, but will do," I promise.
After Leila leaves, Jake and I stand awkwardly for a moment.
"We should probably get our story straight," I suggest. "How long have we been dating? How did we meet? Do I know your favorite color?"
"Two weeks," Jake says. "We met at Collin's party, which is close enough to the truth. And blue, but not bright blue. More like navy."
"Good to know," I nod. "And what exactly is your endgame here? How long am I playing the role of devoted hockey girlfriend?"
Jake winces. "Just while my parents are in town? They leave Tuesday. I know it's a lot to ask—"
"Four days of fake dating," I muse. "I've done worse things for less reason."
"Yeah? Like what?" Jake asks, looking genuinely curious.
"I once pretended to be interested in rock climbing for three months because a cute instructor said I had 'natural talent.' I have a debilitating fear of heights and threw up after every session."
Jake laughs, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You're a very dedicated person."
"Or stupid," I counter. "The jury's still out."
"Either way, I appreciate this," he says, his expression turning serious. "More than I can say."
"Just don't forget the nachos," I warn him. "I don't fake date for free."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he assures me. "Shall we?" He offers his arm in an old-fashioned gesture.
I take it, feeling both ridiculous and strangely excited. "Lead on, Hockey Jesus. Let's go convince your parents and ex-girlfriend that we're madly in love after two whole weeks of nacho-based texting."
"When you put it that way, it sounds completely reasonable," Jake says dryly.
"That's the spirit," I grin. "What could possibly go wrong?"
Sorellina is exactly the kind of restaurant where I don't belong. The kind with no prices on the menu, ambient lighting that makes everyone look airbrushed, and waitstaff who silently judge your wine selection. I've been to places like this exactly twice—once when Leila's company was celebrating a major client win, and once when Daniel's parents took us out to celebrate our second anniversary.
Now I'm here as Jake Marshall's fake girlfriend, about to have dinner with his parents and his ex. This is either the premise of a bad sitcom or evidence that my life has fully derailed.
"Nervous?" Jake whispers as we approach the table where his parents and Jessica are already seated.
"What gave it away?" I whisper back. "The excessive sweating or the fact that I just accidentally called the maître d' 'Professor'?"
"You called him 'Professor'?"
