Chapter 11 #2
“Of course she wasn’t. Why would she be at her own clinic?
” Victoria brings her straw to her lips.
Miraculously, she seems to hold more disdain for Noah’s ex-girlfriend than she does even for me or her own fiancé.
To me, she adds, “Count yourself lucky that you never had to meet her. She was a nightmare.”
“That’s what I said when Noah told me about her.” Not exactly true, but the truth is close enough, and I’m desperate for anything to bond over with Victoria, even if that is a mutual disdain for a woman who mistreated someone we both care about.
Because I do care about Noah. In the short time we’ve known each other, he’s become a friend.
A friend I find undeniably, unbelievably, ridiculously attractive.
A friend who is also a paying client and just got out of a toxic relationship and hired me to get his family off his back so he can be single in peace.
Maybe after all of this is over, after we stage a breakup for our pretend relationship and the fake dust settles, we can still be friends.
When he leans back in his chair and his hand casually slips further up my thigh, I nearly curse under my breath.
Who am I kidding? I do not want to be friends with this man. I want to be a hell of a lot more than that.
“How’s the school?” Victoria rips off a chunk of bread and dips it in olive oil but doesn’t eat it.
Her question is directed at me. Didn’t I tell their parents that I’m an artist? Shit. Now I can’t remember. Did I tell them I work at a school? I must have if that’s what Victoria believes.
“Great, thanks.” I stuff a slice of bread past my lips for something to keep my mouth and hands busy.
Noah’s palm still hasn’t left my thigh, and I hope it never does. I’m pretty sure my skin will be seared with the imprint.
“Huh, that’s strange.” Victoria’s eyes narrow. “I thought you told my parents you were an artist.”
I stiffen mid-chew. Victoria is blatantly trying to catch me in a lie, in real time. A brief glance at Noah tells me he’s sensed the trap too, and by the way his jaw ticks, he’s not happy about it.
I scramble for some believable excuse. “Right. Yes, I work at a school to supplement my income. Art teacher.”
This does nothing to quell Victoria’s suspicions. She finally chews her bread while her gaze stays trained on me, like she’s waiting for me to blurt out every secret I’ve ever kept.
“What about you, Vee?” Noah blessedly interjects. “How’s work? Still yelling at kids to floss every day?”
“They never fucking floss. How many times do I have to tell them?” Victoria snatches her water and grips the glass like she’s holding it hostage. Her rage would almost be comical—the grump in a grumpy-sunshine romance—if she weren’t directing most of that rage at me.
“Remind me: how often are you supposed to brush your tongue?” Noah winks at me while Victoria sputters into her water and rants about the proper teeth-cleaning routine.
Floss, brush teeth, scrape tongue, then rinse with mouthwash, apparently. I won’t tell Victoria I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life, that I’ve never once scraped my tongue, or that I floss maybe once a week.
My hand slides to Noah’s on my thigh, and I thread our fingers together. The only way I can think to silently thank him for diverting Victoria’s attention to him.
I have to remind myself to try to breathe normally.
If I can figure out how to get Victoria to like me, I actually think she’d be a good friend to have in my corner. Loyal, protective, assertive, unintentionally funny. Plus, I’d be too terrified of her wrath to ever skip flossing again.
I need to step it up as a fake girlfriend if I want to convince her that my relationship with Noah is real and that he really has moved on from his ex. That was the deal, after all.
At last, a different server arrives with our food—we probably scared away the first, poor thing—and Noah keeps Victoria talking about her job as a dental hygienist and her garden that she’s apparently already prepping even though it’s only April.
He chats about the cats, dogs, and guinea pig he’s been taking care of, and I make a mental note to learn everything I can about gardening.
After Victoria asks for the check and waves Noah off when he insists that we can split it, Carson stretches his arms above his head and lets out a resounding belch. I’m relieved the server took our utensils because Victoria would definitely be stabbing him right now.
What does she see in this guy? Sure, she’s a bit hostile and petrifying, but even in the hour I’ve known them both, I’m certain she could do better.
Carson slaps both hands on the table. “Right. Who wants to get the hell out of here and grab some drinks?”
For the love of god, please no.
“We can’t,” I blurt before Noah can take Carson up on the invitation. If I’m forced to spend another second with the future divorcees, I’ll set myself on fire. “Thank you so much for inviting us. But we’re . . . going for a run. Training for a marathon. Can’t skip a day. You know how it is.”
I don’t think Carson has any idea how it is. Like me, he doesn’t exactly look like the type to run or hit the gym, but unlike me, he’s also the type who would rather people believe he can run five miles and benchpress double his bodyweight than admit the truth.
“You’re going for a run?” Victoria raises an unimpressed, perfectly plucked brow at me. “Right after eating?”
I jump to my feet and nod at Noah, who follows suit with an amused grin he’s failing to hide.
“A walk first to help with digestion.” I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. “Then a run. We’re both very into running.”
I’m completely bombing this. Victoria can sniff out the deception on me like a bloodhound. Anyone could take one look at my scrawny limbs and soft edges and pin me as the couch potato I am. I’ve never run for fun a day in my life, and Victoria knows it.
“Apparently.” Impossibly, a corner of Victoria’s mouth lifts in the tiniest smile.