Chapter 6
LARK
I drag myself out of bed with all the grace of a zombie in a horror movie, pull on running clothes and try desperately not to think about last night.
About the deal I made. About how I’m about to lie directly to my best friend’s face.
I basically sold my soul for Instagram followers, and am now taking the title as officially the worst friend in the entire history of friendship. Great.
The morning air is already warm when I step outside my apartment, July in Washington bringing that summer heat that promises another scorching day ahead.
Maren’s already at the trail entrance when I arrive, looking like she also just crawled out of bed.
Her blonde ponytail is lopsided, though she’s wearing the new running shoes I convinced her to buy last month.
“We both actually made it,” she says, looking mildly surprised by this achievement. “I nearly talked myself out of it entirely.”
“Same,” I admit, laughing. “I could have slept for another three hours.”
She starts stretching her hamstrings. “How was it closing the bar last night? Jayson said it was eventful but when I asked what happened, he said to talk to you.”
My stomach tightens. Here we go. “Not too bad, but… Brandon showed up.”
“What?” Maren stops mid-stretch, her sleepiness replaced immediately by pure outrage. “Are you serious right now? What did that absolute asshole want?”
“To be an asshole, mostly. His favorite hobby.” I focus on stretching my other leg, using the physical movement as an excuse to avoid eye contact.
“Came in with Kelly, made absolutely sure I knew they were together now, insulted my music career in that special condescending way he has. The usual Brandon greatest hits.”
“That waste of oxygen,” Maren fumes, her face flushing with anger on my behalf. “I swear, if I’d been there when he walked in… Kelly actually had the nerve to show up too? Please tell me you threw them both out on their asses.”
I smile gratefully at her fierce loyalty. She’s always ready to go to war for me at a moment’s notice. “I considered it.” I bump her shoulder affectionately with mine. “But then something kind of weird happened instead…”
“Weird how?”
My heart’s racing and we haven’t even started running. “Well, Jack was there. Playing pool.”
“Okay…” She glances at me sideways. “And?”
“And, uh, Brandon was being such a condescending dick, asking if I was seeing anyone.” I clear my throat. “Implying I’m alone and pathetic because I’m too focused on my ‘little music thing’ instead of finding another man to validate my existence.”
“God, I hate him so much,” Maren mutters darkly.
“Me too. So I told him I was seeing someone.” I force myself to say it casually. “To shut him up.”
“Ooooh. Good for you! Who’d you say?” She grins approvingly as we start jogging.
“That’s the thing.” I take a deep breath, preparing for the lie. “I didn’t have anyone specific to name. My brain completely blanked. But then Jack… He, um, he just came over and told Brandon we were together.”
Maren stops jogging so abruptly it’s like she hit an invisible brick wall. I’m three full steps past her before I even realize she’s not beside me anymore. I turn back to find her staring at me with her mouth hanging open.
“I’m sorry, WHAT?” Her voice rises to a pitch that probably only dogs can hear.
“He just… played along perfectly,” I say. “Put his arm around me, told Brandon to stop bothering his girlfriend. It was pretty incredible. Brandon’s face went completely white. He practically ran out of there.”
This part, at least, is completely true, and I can’t help the satisfaction in my voice at the memory.
“Jack pretended to be your boyfriend?” Maren’s voice goes up another octave. “To Brandon? In front of people?”
“Yeah.” I start jogging again because I absolutely cannot look at her while I lie. Movement feels safer somehow, like the truth can’t catch me if I keep running fast enough. “And then after Brandon left, we got to talking and he, uh, asked me out for real. So we’re going to get coffee.”
Maren catches up quickly, grabbing my arm hard enough to slow me down. “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Are you telling me you and Jack are together now? Like actually dating?”
The lie sits heavy in my stomach like a rock. “I mean, we’re going to try? See where it goes? It’s really new.” Every single word feels like another shovelful of dirt on the grave of our honest friendship.
“Oh my GOD, Lark!” She squeals. “Jack? JACK MIDNIGHT? Calvin’s brother Jack?”
“Please don’t make a huge deal about it—” I try desperately to sound casual, but my voice comes out strained and weird.
“Don’t make a big deal?” She’s practically bouncing while running now. “You’re dating Calvin’s brother! Who is also a Formula One driver!” Her excitement is so genuine that it makes my guilt triple in size instantly. “This is literally the biggest deal! This is huge!”
“It might not be anything serious,” I say quickly. “We’re just… seeing what happens. Taking it slow.”
“Calvin’s going to absolutely flip when I tell him.
In a good way!” She’s gesturing wildly now as she runs.
“Oh my god, we can do double dates. This is amazing.” She pauses mid-stride, studying my face more carefully.
Her expression shifts slightly. “Wait, why do you look like you just accidentally ran over someone’s cat? You should be happy.”
“I am happy. It’s just new and weird and I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it too much. Jack does have quite the reputation,” I point out as we jog along the tree-lined trail. “I don’t know if he’s ever dated anyone longer than a month. Maybe six weeks tops.”
“Yeah, he’s definitely not the poster child for commitment,” Maren agrees with a laugh.
“But I’ve known him for years now, and underneath all that playboy stuff, I think he’s got a good heart.
” She glances at me, her expression turning more mischievous.
“Plus, who says this has to be some serious long-term thing? Maybe a hot, sexy summer fling while he’s in town is exactly what you need after Brandon. Some fun without pressure.”
“Oh my god, Maren!” I laugh, feeling my cheeks warm.
“What?” She grins, completely unrepentant. “I’m just saying! You two might actually be good together. You’re both adventurous, chasing dreams, and both stubborn as hell.”
“Maybe. I haven’t even had coffee yet. I can’t picture anything but caffeine.”
“Plus,” Maren adds, ignoring me, “if he hurts you, you and I will handle it. Very Dixie Chicks ‘Goodbye Earl’ style. We’ve got property with lots of trees. No one would find the body.”
I snort-laugh. “Maren.”
“I’m kidding! Mostly.” She grins wickedly. “Though my money’s on you breaking his heart. Jack acts all tough and player-ish, but I’ve seen him with his family. I suspect that he’s actually kind of a softie underneath. Meanwhile you’re over here with walls so high they’re visible from space.”
“I do not have walls,” I protest.
“Lark, you have fortified walls, and a moat. With alligators. And the drawbridge is broken.”
“That’s called being appropriately cautious after divorce,” I say.
“That’s called not putting yourself back out there,” she says gently. “Which I totally get. Brandon did a number on you. But maybe letting those walls down a little wouldn’t be the worst thing? Even if it’s just for fun?”
“Maybe,” I mutter, hating that she’s probably right.
“Look, I’m not saying dive in headfirst. Just… don’t shut it down before it starts, you know?” She bumps my shoulder affectionately. “But either way, after how relentlessly you pushed me with Calvin? I’m going to be soooo annoying about this.”
“Hey, I was completely right about Calvin though,” I counter with a grin, grateful for the shift to safer territory.
“You probably wouldn’t even be married if I hadn’t pushed you out of your comfort zone, past all that—” I throw my hand dramatically to my forehead, “‘It’ll never work! The distance! He’s too perfect! ’”
She laughs. “Okay, okay, I get it, you smug brat. Yes, it is thanks to you that Calvin and I are now happily married. I owe you my entire life. You’re the greatest friend who ever lived.”
She gives me an exaggerated bow without breaking her stride, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process.
“Damn right you do,” I say, trying to enjoy this moment despite the guilt eating away at my insides. “I’m the matchmaker queen of Dark River. I should charge for my services.”
She shakes her head, laughing breathlessly. “Seriously though, I’m really happy for you, Lark. Like thrilled. And Jack is lucky to have caught your eye. He should be counting his lucky stars that you’re even giving him the time of day.”
She starts running again, practically floating along the trail like gravity has been reduced by half. I follow behind her. The morning sunlight filters through trees, birds singing overhead. Perfect morning for a run with your best friend, except for the massive lie sitting in my chest.
I’m definitely going to hell for this.
An hour after my run with Maren, I’m in my bedroom trying to figure out what to wear. My closet feels woefully inadequate for a coffee date with Jack Midnight, fake or not.
I’ve already tried on six different outfits.
Nothing feels right. Too casual, too formal, too desperate.
Coffee with Jack is in forty-five minutes and I’m standing here in my underwear like an idiot, which is completely ridiculous.
This isn’t even a real date. So why am I stressing about what to wear?
“Because people will be watching,” I mutter to myself, tossing aside yet another pair of jeans that suddenly look too casual. “The whole point is to be seen. To look like someone Jack Midnight would actually date.”
Do I need to look more glamorous? More sophisticated? More Instagram-worthy? Do Formula One drivers’ girlfriends wear sundresses or is that too casual?