Chapter 14 #2
I didn’t know it was possible to laugh so much while coming up with dating—and roommate—rules. I actually don’t remember the last time I laughed this hard—period.
“No, you didn’t,” I wheeze, wiping tears from my eyes. My whole abdomen is aching from how hard I’m laughing now over Collin’s horror story of the brief time he shared an apartment with Pat.
Spoiler alert: it did not go well.
“I swear,” Collin says solemnly. “I threw away every single one of his socks. No regrets either.”
“Was he mad?”
“That’s the kicker—Pat didn’t even notice.
He just went out and bought new socks when he couldn’t find any.
It wasn’t until I confessed a few years later that he found out.
” Collin shakes his head, spinning a ballpoint pen between his fingers.
“And he didn’t even care when I told him. Just said he probably deserved it.”
After we finished eating, we moved from the kitchen to the living room couch. I think when we first sat down, there was a whole cushion between us, but somehow in the last hour, we ended up almost next to each other, our thighs touching. I’m not complaining.
It’s just … practice. This is what I’m telling myself with every smile, every laugh, every time I’ve tossed a throw pillow at him and he’s tossed it back. We’re getting comfortable around each other, better prepared to sell this thing than we were the day I first grabbed Collin at the fair.
Anyone who walked into the loft right now would take one look at us and absolutely think we’re dating, so I guess we’re getting a leg up on the whole pretending-to-date thing.
Only … no one is watching. So, what does it mean that we’re still acting this way?
Straightening a little, I wipe the smile from my face, forcing a serious expression. “Are you going to throw away my things if I leave them around the apartment?”
“No.” He straightens too, leaning forward and matching my intensity. “I would never.”
“Even if I leave smelly socks all over the place?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. I know he’s trying to read me, trying to sense whether I’m teasing or serious. I don’t break character, but he still seems to sense something more under the surface.
“If your socks smell as bad as Pat’s do, and you don’t pick them up after a few days, then … yes. I will throw away your socks, Molly.” He pauses. Still trying to read me. I give him nothing. “Is this a dealbreaker? Better tell me now so we don’t waste any more time.”
I can’t help it. One corner of my mouth twitches.
Collin grins and points. “Ha! I knew you were giving me a hard time.”
“I really did want to know,” I insist, even as I’m laughing. “Right about now, I’m glad I don’t have foot odor issues. Let me see this list.”
I reach across to grab the legal pad. My arm brushes Collin’s chest, and for a brief moment, our faces are a little too close. I scoot back once I have the pad in hand, ducking my chin to read and hoping Collin doesn’t notice my pink cheeks. I haven’t done this much blushing since middle school.
I scan the page, filled with Collin’s neat writing.
We’ve covered a lot of things related to dating or living together over the past hour, many of which did not actually need to be covered.
Like, for example, midnight snack rules.
Collin insisted that anything in the kitchen is fair game after midnight, no matter who buys it.
“Like, I will pay to replace something I eat,” he said. “But if it’s after midnight, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“I got the impression you were kind of a health nut,” I told him.
“I am,” he said. “But after-midnight Collin is a whole different man.”
That comment threw my brain into a whole spiral wondering about what other kinds of trouble after-midnight Collin would get into.
There are two side-by-side lists, the first with what Collin titled “Roommate Expectations” and the second, “Dating Rules.” I can’t help but notice the way he left the word “Fake” off the dating part. Probably in case anyone ever found this.
Or maybe it’s a subconscious thought on his part?
My thoughts about all of this are very conscious, and as I scan the lists, I wonder how in the world I’m going to pull this off. The this being pretending to date Collin when I think I’d prefer to actually date him.
As far as roommate things, we agreed to clean up after ourselves and pay for our own groceries, but Collin did request a weekly shopping trip together in case we want to share anything.
I’m not sure why I’m so excited about the idea of grocery shopping with him.
But I am. Even if it means he’ll realize that I exist mostly on Hot Pockets, which Chase likes to say makes him wonder if I’m really a teenage boy.
We even outlined the social media posting. I explained how I often batch content, and so our plan is to record a bunch at one time, then post one a day.
“I know this is your area of expertise, not mine, but you don’t think we don’t need to do more than that?” Collin asked.
I shook my head. “Right now, people are really excited, which means they’re going to be hungry for more content. Better to give just a little and keep them wanting more,” I told him.
I tap the part of the page dealing with family. “So, we’re telling your family—including Jo—the truth,” I say, reading from the dating side of the list. “But my parents and my employers will stay in the dark.”
“Because the nosy people in this town are always watching,” Collin says. “I’m honestly surprised no one overheard us the other morning at breakfast.”
I remember Thayden telling us a few times to lower our voices, but the diner was busy. And loud.
“Are people here really big gossips?” I ask. “Or is that just a stereotype about small towns?”
“It might be a stereotype, but it’s also true. We need to get you on the Neighborly app,” he says. “Hand me your phone.”
I do, but not before clearing the notifications, which are basically a lot of ignored calls and texts from my family.
“Ew. You’re an Android user?”
“Is that a dealbreaker, Mr. Biceps? The code is 6656.”
“No, not a dealbreaker. But when your plan is up, let’s talk about getting you an Apple. Is 6656 some kind of special date?”
I ignore the Apple comment. One of my first orders of business when I get paid is to get a new phone, one not on my family plan. And just maybe I’ll get an iPhone. I know I hate sending texts to Collin and not being able to see any indication if he’s seen it or writing back.
But I’m certainly not going to go from having my daddy pay for my phone to having my fake boyfriend pay for it.
“It stands for MOLO.” I roll my eyes. “When YOLO was really big, Chase took to calling me MOLO, and now I use that for all of my pins.”
“That’s cute,” Collin says. “MOLO!”
“Please don’t. That can’t be the nickname you settle on for me.”
“Fine. I prefer Molly-girl anyway.”
So do I.
“Also, you shouldn’t tell just anyone your pin number,” Collin says. “Does it work for your debit card too?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” It does, and I realize this is probably not the best idea. But I’m terrible at remembering passwords and codes. “But you’re not just anyone.”
The words sound heavier than I meant for them to, and when Collin’s gaze clashes with mine, I wish I could roll them back. But I can’t quite manage to find my voice.
Collin clears his throat and hands my phone back.
“There. I added the app so you can set up your account. Winnie actually built Neighborly. She sold it off but retained ownership of the Sheet Cake location. She likes the power trip of being the moderator. Deleting comments and all that. But it will come in handy just in case anyone does suspect anything.”
Winnie knows how to build apps? She’s gorgeous with this whole pin-up vibe going on. The tattoos I caught a glimpse of on her upper arms somehow paired really well with her ultrafeminine clothing choices. And apparently, she’s smart to boot—building apps and helping James run Dark Horse.
I swear, the entirety of the Graham family is intimidating. Including the women they’ve married.
I haven’t met Lindy yet, but I’ve heard a lot about her from Harper.
Lindy apparently raised Jo—her sister’s baby—from the time she was an infant.
While Lindy was also taking care of her mom, who had early onset dementia.
All while writing articles under a pen name and supporting them on that income—before she married Pat, who swooped in, married Lindy, and now makes taking care of them his full-time job.
I don’t want to love the idea of a guy Cinderella-storying me.
Especially when part of the way my dad controlled me was through finances.
He could have paid for my college. I’m pretty sure he paid for Chase’s.
But I think he knew that if I had student debts, I would be in financial straits for years, and thus, dependent on him.
So, I have an aversion to men creating avenues of financial dependence. I want to stand on my own.
But at the same time, the idea of letting a man who really loves me take care of me—financially and otherwise—sounds pretty great.
“Does everything look good?” Collin asks, leaning closer to tap the pen on the legal pad.
I tug the pen from his hand and write the date up on the top of the page. I’m not sure why. Just to see my handwriting on the paper somewhere, maybe.
“I think so.”
“Did we cover all the bases? Is anything missing?”
There is actually a very large chunk we haven’t discussed, and I’m not sure how it got overlooked. Other than the fact that it’s awkward to talk about. “Um.”
“What is it?”
I can feel the flush creeping up my neck to my cheeks. Again. “Do you think we should, um, be a little more specific and detailed about the physical things?”
When I hazard a glance at Collin, the look he’s giving me makes the flush burn hotter. “You want to get specific and detailed about the physical part of our relationship?”
I wish I could laugh and smack him with a pillow, throwing us back into the teasing banter we’ve maintained through most of the conversation. But with Collin sitting so close, his eyes darkening to a stormy blue, I can’t. Especially not when his gaze drops to my lips.
“It would probably be smart,” I say, my voice breathy. “Just so we’re prepared if we need to show physical affection in public. Hand-holding or … anything else.”
I don’t say the word kissing, but I swear, it’s swirling in the air between us like pixie dust.
Collin scoots a little closer. “I’m down for some preparation.”
His words sound loaded. Heavy with meaning. And his gaze is still on my lips. Now I’m staring at his mouth, the full lips now more prominent without the beard. They are very kissable lips.
“Or maybe,” Collin says, voice low and rough, “what we need in order to prepare is some good, old-fashioned practice.”
“P-practice?”
He reaches one hand out, brushing a strand of my hair back, his fingers trailing down my neck. “Practice,” he repeats. “You know, so that if we have to kiss in public, it doesn’t look like the first time we’ve ever done it.”
“That makes sense,” I whisper, feeling every nerve in my body tighten like a coiled spring. “We wouldn’t want people to think it’s the first time we’ve kissed.”
“No,” he says. “We wouldn’t want that.”
Collin’s fingers slide back, threading into the hair at the nape of my neck, and a little sigh escapes my lips. He leans forward, and my eyelids flutter closed, ready and waiting for—
His phone suddenly blares to life, making us both jump back as “The Final Countdown” plays. Our gazes meet for a second, and I wonder if my expression matches his—dazed, with dilated pupils and heavy lids.
I can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed by the interruption, but he does grab the phone, groaning as he reads the texts coming through.
With a heavy sigh, he stands and holds out his hand. I take it and let him tug me to my feet.
“Well, I’m glad we talked through everything,” he says. “Because we’ve been summoned.”
“Summoned?”
“We’ve been invited to dinner at Pat and Lindy’s. I guess it’s as good a time as any to explain everything to them.”