Chapter 15
Penny
Saturdays in small-town New England during fall mean one thing: football.
Though I never played sports, or even tried out for the cheerleading squad, I love this tradition as much as everyone else in Hope Harbor.
There’s something about the camaraderie of cheering on our neighbors.
I also love the spiced apple cider, hot chocolate, and cinnamon churros that are served at every game.
Okay, they’re my favorite part; my mouth is already watering.
Standing in front of my closet at home, I pick out a short-sleeve shirt in the golden color that represents our town and pair it with black jeans.
Then, with gold face paint, I add a little firefly—the town mascot—to my cheek.
A touch of mascara, some clear gloss, and after running my fingers through my bangs and teasing each section of my thick braid to make it look purposefully messy, I’m ready for an Instagram post.
I never show my face in the photos I upload to the page. My bangs have made appearances, but I normally cover the rest of me with a book.
Today, I hold up my favorite fake-dating romance. It involves a hockey goalie who convinces his best friend to pretend to date him so she can get revenge on her cheating boyfriend—who also happens to be his coach.
He calls her pumpkin because it’s her favorite fall flavor—just like mine—which means it’s the best book in the series.
I position the book so that only my cheek is showing and snap the pic. After hopping into the Instagram app, I blur the background and pick the golden filter before typing out my caption.
apennyforyourbooks: Living out my own romcom. Guess who got herself her very own book boyfriend.
Excited, I hit post and set the book down.
Today is day one of convincing the residents of Hope Harbor that Monty and I are a real couple.
And it’s also Monty’s first lesson. I spent far too much time over the past few days creating a list of the things Monty needs to know so that he can write the perfect romantic hero.
I even included examples from my favorite books and book recommendations for him.
It’s probably overkill but it’s better than thinking about the actual fake-dating portion of this deal.
Because that also starts today.
***
Tally: Hi, hello, it’s me, your sister. You know the one you’ve been avoiding for the last few days. I want the dirt and I want it NOW!
I choke on a laugh. She’s not wrong, I am avoiding her. Only because I’m still not sure how the hell this is going to work. I need to see Monty and how he acts before I figure out how I’m going to play this with everyone else.
Me: I’m not hiding or avoiding you. I’ve been busy. But I just got to the game so I’ll see you soon. Monty’s coming. Don’t act weird.
The sound of the trumpets blaring “Tequila” by the Champs floats across the parking lot as I get out of my car.
Glittering gold-and-black writing welcomes me to the first Hope Harbor Fireflies game of the season.
The autumn sun warms my skin as I walk toward the field, which is already teeming with people: players, coaches, and cheerleaders mill about, as do parents and other students.
The redbrick high school building is set back from the field and the entire area is surrounded by large oak trees whose green leaves are starting to transform into a burnt orange.
As the season progresses, firepits will be set up by the trees to keep crowds warm during the game, but today, that isn’t necessary since it’s a balmy sixty-eight. Perfect weather for an afternoon football game.
My first stop will be the food tent, where I know my mother is working with some of the other Liberty Ladies.
Even if I didn’t know where they set up every time, the smell of cinnamon and sugar would lead me there. And the scent of popcorn—I’d forgotten how they always salt it to perfection for each game.
There are candy apples and cinnamon donuts lined up on one side of the tent and hot dogs and popcorn on the other. In the middle, the group of Liberty Ladies are dressed in matching black T-shirts adorned with a glittering Hope Harbor mascot.
My lips twitch into a smile as I spot my mother laughing at something Babs says. She’s wearing a yellow apron to hold money and her mostly gray hair is pulled back into a ponytail that makes her look younger than her fifty-five years. Or maybe it’s because of the way she’s smiling.
The moment she spots me, my mom’s face lights up even further. Though I miss my daddy terribly, it’s nice to see her finding a place for herself in Hope Harbor without him. Finding a new way on her own, rather than just as one half of The Darlings.
I was incredibly lucky to be born into our family, to witness a love like theirs. Everything I know about love, about devotion, I learned from my parents.
My father only became his full self when he saw my mother across the room.
Her cheeks, just like mine, can’t hide her emotions.
When she’s mad, boy do you know it. But whenever my father looked at her, the apples of her cheeks would glitter with delight—you could see her warming from the inside out.
I want that sort of love.
I’ve learned that I’d rather be on my own than settle for a love that was less than what my parents had. I’d rather read about those epic love stories than be with someone who made me feel the way Dick did.
The worst thing—something I’ve never admitted aloud—was that not only did my relationship with Dick not measure up to that real kind of love, but he made me feel smaller than I ever felt by myself. When I was with him, I shrunk rather than shined.
He’d make snide comments about what I enjoyed the most. Books were frivolous, he said, especially the ones I read. He made comments about my weight and all but asked me to go on a diet for the wedding, though of course he claimed it was so we would both be the healthiest versions of ourselves.
I didn’t realize it at the time but I was deeply unhappy toward the end of our relationship.
I just didn’t know how to get out of it.
I suppose a part of me believed him, too—I did enjoy my books more than the real world.
I was addicted to the rush I felt when the banter between the two main characters was off-the-charts, when there was conveniently only one bed in the hotel room they booked, when the enemies finally became lovers.
And witnessing the first kiss? God, that moment is addictive.
The tension building up to it? Orgasmic.
It’s not the spice that draws me into romance books; it’s that feeling of chemistry snapping between the two main characters that I chase.
Of course, the sex scenes are a necessary part of any romance book—and I enjoy the hell out of a well-placed good girl—but it’s the heart-pounding, showstopping, epic love story that I’m looking for.
When I was with Dick, I thought maybe he was right about some things. Maybe if I changed—if I lost the belly, didn’t use as many throw pillows, and stopped reading as much—we’d have that kind of love.
I hate thinking how much I bent for Dick, though a year on, I am thankful for that version of love, because it taught me the greatest lesson of all—if I don’t love myself enough, then I’ll never be treated the way I deserve.
So, I’m taking the time to fall in love with myself, rather than looking for someone to fall in love with. And at least Monty’s plan will allow me to do that without everyone questioning me every five minutes.
“Hi, Penny,” Babs calls to me now, spotting me just after my mother does. “Look how cute she looks, ladies. It’s almost as if she’s got a date today!”
“Oh, leave her be,” my mother says, moving out from behind the table and wrapping me in one of her incredible hugs.
The perfume she’s always worn—something by Rosie—never fails to comfort me.
She pulls me tight to her, mumbling in my ear so that no one else can hear.
“You’ll have to tell me what’s really going on when we don’t have an audience. ”
I glance at her, a doe in headlights, knowing I can’t hide the truth from my mom. Not that I want to. But I do want her to believe I’m okay. I want her to focus on her and not worry about me so much.
“And where is that new boyfriend of yours?” Rayna breaks the moment between us, her discerning brow raised.
“Monty is meeting me here. He had to help his father with something.”
“I always knew you two would end up together,” Babs says.
“It was clear as day she had a crush on him,” Rayna agrees. “I remember you following that boy around in high school with hearts in your eyes.”
My cheeks burn. Was it really that obvious?
“Funny, I don’t remember that at all,” Monty says, taking me by surprise.
I spin around to find him standing right behind us, a black T-shirt with the famous tongue of the Rolling Stones on it hugging his chest and exposing all the gorgeous ink on his forearms. His green eyes glitter when they meet mine; the way he’s looking at me, his gaze so intense, his focus only on me, makes it feel as though he can’t look away.
I let out a breathy laugh and wave my hand out in front of me. “I did not have a crush on Monty at school.”
Monty catches my hand, using his strong grasp to tug me forward. The move takes me by such surprise that I stumble right into him. He wraps an arm around my waist so that we’re only a breath apart when he murmurs, “Your cheeks turn such a pretty pink when you lie.”
My chest flashes hot and my cheeks grow tight as I sink farther into the soft fabric of his shirt and inhale the warm scent of him. Like caramel coffee and the end pages of my favorite book.
His lips curl into a smirk. “Xuxuzinho, stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I whisper, my eyes searching his face, taking in his olive skin covered in days-old scruff, his black glasses that make my stomach tighten, the full lips he wets with the tip of his tongue.
“Like you want your boyfriend to kiss you hello.” His words are filled with teasing, but his voice sounds like gravel just the same. It scratches at somewhere deep within me, making it hard to breathe.
“That’s not today’s lesson,” I croak.
Monty’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. “Pity.”
Then he releases me, but not before snatching my hand and waffling our fingers together.
“So what are we having?” He points at the display of food in front of us. “One of everything?”
“I shouldn’t.”
Monty’s teasing expression slips, and his eyes burn into mine. “Why?”
I shrug, not wanting to say anything further. “I’ll take a hot apple cider.”
Monty stares at me for another beat before turning to face the group of ladies.
“I’ll do a hot chocolate,” he tells them. “And can you also give me one of those cinnamon churros and a popcorn, please?”
“You don’t want a churro, too?” my mother asks me.
Monty is the one to answer, “Oh, my girl and I are going to share.”
My stomach swoops. While a good girl always makes me hot under the collar, a well-placed my girl is my ultimate catnip.
Jake Montgomery is better at this game than I expected. Shit.