Three #2
“Perfect.” She takes off her glasses, brown eyes aglow in the afternoon sun. “I won’t have to worry about them getting the
wrong idea.”
“The whole thing is the wrong idea,” I tell her. “It won’t work.” Or it will, and she’ll find herself catching feelings for some weirdo who jumped at the chance for no-strings-attached court-mandated romance.
“Something’s got to.” Sliding the sunglasses back on, she crosses her arms, her cream linen crop top showing off the smooth,
bronze skin of her belly. I pull my focus off her distracting curves and back to her predicament as she says, “At least it
will get my mind off the fact that I’ve got nothing to show for months of work.”
An idea comes to me, one foolish enough that I don’t allow myself to think it over. “Does it have to be a stranger?”
“What do you mean?”
“Date me.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. Somehow I’ve gone and asked out my best friend, the
woman who thinks dating is the death sentence for friendships.
“Gavin—”
“Not for real,” I say, scrambling. Damn. How can I save this? “But you want to do something out of the ordinary. What could
be more out of character than me and you going on a date? I could pick you up for dinner—”
“We do that a lot—”
“At a fancy restaurant.” All of a sudden, I want this, very badly. “I’ll bring flowers. Living ones,” I add with a grin. “Open
all the doors for you.”
“You do that for everyone,” she says.
It’s how I was raised. Midwestern nice that I sometimes get teased for. “Fine, then we could go to one of those wine and painting
nights or something.”
“Last time we tried that, you got tipsy and accidentally drank paint water.”
Let me tell you, it sobered me up fast. “The point I’m trying to make is that you can escape your routine without going out
with a stranger. Us pretending to be a couple would be the furthest thing from reality.”
“Fake dating is a trope,” she says. “Not something people do in real life.”
“A trope?” I’ve heard Mia talk about tropes at book signings, but I’m not one hundred percent clear on the meaning.
“A scenario common to the genre that builds anticipation. Like for fake dating, the characters might pretend to be in a relationship
so their family doesn’t find out they’re chronically single—”
“Being single isn’t a disease.” Though come to think of it, my brother does seem to view it that way.
She ignores me and says, “Or they take it a step further and get engaged because a great-aunt’s will stipulates the hero will
lose the family farm if he’s not married.”
“Is this medieval Europe?”
“Yeah, it can be a hard sell in contemporary romance,” she says. “The point is, it never stays fake. The characters always
end up falling in love.” She scrunches up her nose at the word love dislodging her sunglasses, which slip off her face.
Catching them, I polish the lenses on my shirt. “You and I have been friends for almost ten years, Mia. We know where we stand.
A bottle of merlot and candlelight isn’t going to change anything. Plus, we’re not going to be in a relationship. This would
just be one date—”
“You think one date with you will be enough?”
For a split second, it seems like she’s implying she wouldn’t be able to stop at one. Then I realize she’s saying there’s
no way a date with me will be enough to shift her mindset.
“Maybe not, but why not try?” I hand her back the glasses. “Can’t hurt.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she says. “It could hurt.”
“Which is why your best friend is the perfect person to fake it with.”
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “A friend is the last person to fake with because it never stays fake. The characters always catch feelings.” She glances up sharply, but she’s staring off into space, with what I recognize as the look she gets when making a plot breakthrough.
Suddenly, her mouth drops open, and she grabs me by the shoulders.
“That’s it!” Grinning up at me, she asks, “How do people who have been friends for years have a meet-cute?”
I’ve read enough romance novels by now to understand the importance of a good meet-cute—the moment when the love interests
interact on page for the first time. I can also see where she’s going with this and find myself smiling back. “By seeing the
potential for something more?”
“Exactly!” Smile wide, she says, “It would be kind of cool to get insight into what might change for my characters in that
scenario.” She shakes her head. “What am I saying? That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not,” I tell her. Even though it is. A little. “I’m your friend. Who better to do something a little ridiculous with?
No judgment here.”
Frowning, she says, “I’m not sure...”
“I am.” I’ve always been sure when it comes to Mia.
She bites her lip and her grip tightens, bunching my sleeves. “You really don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I want to do a whole lot more than pretend. I want to close the distance between us and feel her fingers fist
my shirt for a whole different reason when our mouths meet. But that’s the kind of dangerous thought that would be harder
to push aside if we go through with this. Can I keep my feelings in check when all the usual boundaries of friendship are
gone?
Just one date. I can do that. For Mia. For myself. To prove to my stubbornly hopeful heart that she doesn’t want me. Won’t
want me. Not now, or ever.
Doing my best to keep my voice even, I say, “Let’s have some fun together. It’s what we do best.”