Chapter 27
If I tallied up Matt’s acts of kindness versus his moments of jerkdom, kindness might actually be pulling ahead. And that’s saying something.
I don’t take his comment of ‘I’m his girlfriend for the weekend’ seriously because why would I?
So, when we pull into the diner parking lot, he parks the truck and says, “Don’t move,” I don’t listen. When he comes to my door, I’m already hopping out.
“I said to wait,” he scolds, looking down at me.
I shut the door and say, “Who says I have to listen?”
He puts an arm around my shoulder. “You’re going to give me shit all weekend, aren’t you?”
I peer up at him. When his eyes meet mine, my heart flutters. I mock him, “It wouldn’t be fun if I didn’t. Isn’t that what you said?”
He shrugs, keeping his hold on me as we walk into the diner.
“That’s why you chose me as the perfect candidate for this weekend.”
We sit at a booth. Matt takes the opposite side of me and grabs the menu.
“So, we’re fake dating all weekend?” I ask.
He leans back, touching his foot with mine. “Yeah.”
I slide my foot up his leg as he looks at the menu. When I reach his thigh, he looks at me. I smile and keep going. It’s just my shoe, so it’s not like I would actually feel it.
He scoots his ass to the back of the booth and puts his elbows on the table. “You’re going to smash my dick.”
I playfully roll my eyes like I’m innocent. “I’m just flirting with my boyfriend.”
He rolls his eyes. “Real mature.”
“Hello. Welcome to Betty’s Diner. What kind of drinks can I get started for you?”
“Coffee for me,” Matt says.
“Same.” I smile.
“Got it. I’ll be right back with that while you look over the menu.”
“Thank you,” we mutter at the same time.
I grab my menu and look at the classic American menu. We have no choice but to order from the breakfast menu.
“What kind of breakfast food do you like?” Matt asks.
“High protein,” I answer. “It helps with my mood for the rest of the day.”
“Damn, Amby. Another thing we have in common.”
I place the menu down and turn my attention to him. “That’s a stretch,” I say only to mess with him. He keeps pointing out things we have in common like he’s surprised. “Let’s play a game.”
He leans in, intrigued. “I love games.”
“Yeah, and you sound fucking surprised every time we have something in common, so we’re going to play a game of getting to know each other. Open up our text messages.”
He reaches for his phone from his pocket. “Why?”
“No cheating.” I pull out my phone and say, “Write down your favorite color, and don’t hit send yet.” I write my favorite color. “Okay, you next.”
“This is your game,” he says, and I shoot a look at him, so he takes a moment to think of a question. He says, “Okay. Social security number.”
I laugh as the coffee is placed in front of us.
The lady asks with a pen and pad, “Ready to order?”
We place our orders and set up our coffees.
I mutter, “I’m not giving you my social security number, you psycho.”
He takes a sip of his coffee and says, “Your Starbucks order.”
I laugh, grabbing my phone to type it. “Okay. Your favorite childhood memory.”
“Easy,” he says as he taps on his phone. “My turn. Where are you from?”
I drop my phone on the table in shock at how boring that is. “That is such a dumb question.”
“What do you mean?” he asks with a smile.
“We are from the same place. Ask me a real question.”
“How do you take your eggs?”
I pick up my phone and say, “You realize we just got our coffees, you ask me what my coffee order is at Starbucks. And then now you’re asking me how I like my eggs?”
The waitress comes over and drops off our food in front of us. “Can I get anything else for you two?”
I shake my head, watching Matt. He shakes his head. “Thank you,” we say and then she walks away.
“Real original,” I mouth to him.
“Write down your answer,” he says. “And it’s your turn to ask me a question.”
“What is Matthew Pearson’s problem?”
I jot down my answer, shaking my head.
“What is your favorite candy?” he asks. His questions revolve around food, but maybe this will be good to know for later. “I got another one,” he says. “What do you like to do in your free time.”
“That’s finally a mature question. Kudos.”
He winks. “I knew you’d like that one.”
“How many people have you slept with?” I ask.
He stares blankly at the table and then types on his phone.
We both put our phones down as we take a bite of our food. He has chicken and waffles, and I have the classic bacon and eggs with hashbrowns.
“Favorite holiday,” I mutter, nodding. That’s a good one.
He picks up his phone to write it down and then he says, “One more question and then we’ll hit send.”
“Okay,” I agree because I want to eat my food.
“What’s your type?”
Our eyes connect for a moment, and I have to inhale the snicker I feel in my chest.
He puts his phone down and says, “I hit send.”
I press the button and send him my answers.
Amber:
Favorite color: Black
Social Security Number: Fuck off
Starbucks order: Caramel Frappuccino
Fave Childhood Mem: Getting suspended for tackling Matthew Pearson down the stairs
Eggs: Cooked
Matt’s Problem: Arrogance
Fave Candy: Cookies
Free Time: Cycling, Movies, New Food, Work
Number: 2
Fave Holiday: Christmas but Halloween is fun
My type? Boyfriend material
Matt:
Black
098-64-7658
House coffee with a dash of milk
Hockey
Over easy
Someone named Amber Hughes
KitKat
Hockey
Idk
Christmas
You
As I read through his list, I scoff at the fact he wrote Idk. “That’s not a valid answer. Hey,” I point at him with my two fingers. “I gave you mine. If you don’t know, use your toes.”
“I think I’m at a handful.”
I stare at my phone. “And me? I’m your type?” I scoff as my stomach drops.
“You’re my girlfriend for the weekend, so yeah.” He points at his phone. “And plus, your answer is absolutely terrible. Boyfriend material? You must have other requirements. My problem is not arrogance, Amby. We’ve talked about this.”
I stare at his list. “Right. Your problem is me. Well, good luck because there’s nothing to solve here.”
“Hey,” he says. “I love problems. They’re a reminder that we’re alive and kicking.”
On that note, I kick him under the table. “I think your bandage needs to be changed.”
He lifts his fork. “It’s all this chewing. Hurts like a bitch.”
I scroll through our lists. “We have a few random things in common, Matthew. Would you look at that?”
He focuses on his phone for a moment and says, “Yeah, but I don’t think cookies count as candy.”
I shrug. “I’ll always choose cookies.”
“Okay, but if you had to choose a candy, what would it be?”
“I actually always reach for the KitKats.”
“You’re such a liar,” Matt laughs. He throws the crumpled sugar packet trash at me. “Are you done?”
I look down at my plate and nod.
“Okay, we should get going.”
I reach for my bag.
“Please,” he says. “Don’t touch your wallet this weekend, Hughes.
You’re with me.” He reaches for his wallet from his pocket.
He touches the sleeve of his hoodie, suddenly very interested in it.
I glance down at it, wondering if he dropped food on it.
“Feel this,” he says, pinching the fabric of his hoodie.
I touch it. He stands and leaves the booth, so I grab my things.
“Smell this?” He pulls his collar out so I can get a whiff.
I lean in and smell his cologne.
“You know what that is?” he asks now that I’m closer. He hovers above me because he’s so tall. “That’s boyfriend material.”
I exhale, laughing. I push him as he steps away from me, and then in a split second, I’m under his arm.
“I’m serious, Hughes. You’re not paying for a damn thing this weekend. You’re not opening your own doors. You are my girlfriend for the weekend. You’re getting the full treatment. I owe you.”
I lean into him, enjoying the warmth of his body next to mine. And maybe, just maybe, I’m enjoying what he’s saying too.
He continues, “We have to pull this off in front of my mom. She thinks we’ve been together for months.”
He releases me to pay for the bill and then we walk out the door.
“So, I have to pretend to be in love with you?” I ask.
He glances over his shoulder at me. Our eyes connect as he says, “Yeah, that’s what a fake relationship is.”
“Great… So, you’re pretending to be in love with me?”
He grabs my hand, locking his fingers with mine. My heart thumps in my chest.
He says, “Faking it will be easy.”
“Maybe for you, but not for me.”
He brushes my hair behind my ears as he says, “Remember all those times you hated me?”
“Yeah,” I say while he leans in closer.
“Do you know that love and hate are the same feeling?”
I shake my head, staring into his eyes.
“Like excitement and nervousness. They feel the same in the body, it just depends on how you label it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, understanding where he’s going with this.
He glances at my lips. “So, when we’re faking it this weekend, pretend that your hate for me is love. And that’s how we’ll get through it.”
I swallow under his gaze and nod. “You’re right. That sounds easy.”
“Now…be a good girl and let me open the door for you.”
I step to the side as he opens the passenger door for me. I step inside the truck and then he grabs the seatbelt to buckle me in.
His cologne hits me as he leans over my lap to buckle me in. Once it clicks, he falls to his feet on the ground and double-checks the strap.
“Let’s go.”
He closes the door and walks in front of the truck. As I watch him, my breath falters.
This ridiculously hot hockey player is all mine for the weekend. The thought sends a thrill through me, followed quickly by panic. What am I getting myself into? And why do I have so many ideas about what to do with him?
When we’re back on the freeway, I ask, “Are you wearing white?”
“Yes, per the bride’s request.”
“So,” I suck in a breath. “I don’t have any white clothes. I tried shopping online but nothing was going to come in on time.”
“Okay, so we go shopping,” Matt suggests.