Chapter 16
sixteen
Music hits my ears before I’ve reached the door to our apartment and fished out my keys. Coming home to Miles in this good of a mood is one of my favorite things. Before I even open the door, I know there is an eighty-five percent chance he’s dancing somewhere in the apartment—possibly in his underwear.
The music pours into the hallway as I slip inside, and he doesn’t hear me set my stuff down. I’m not complaining. From here, I have a great view of him with one leg hitched on the kitchen barstool while he twerks and raps along with Nicki Minaj.
Crossing my arms, I take a moment to fully appreciate the scene in front of me. He isn’t in his underwear today, but his shorts are short enough to be mistaken for some, and his tank top has pictures of crabs all over it.
I love this man.
Heading into the kitchen, I make sure to walk around so he can see me. His eyes lock on mine, and his performance only escalates. Popping myself up on the kitchen counter a few feet away, I let my feet dangle and shake my head with a bemused smile.
He reaches for the speaker and turns down the music. “Thank you. Thank you,” he says with a slight bow. When his eyes lock on me again, he says, “Where have you been?”
My smile comes out more like a grimace. “I might have a lot to tell you.” Reaching out my leg, I tap him with my foot. “But I want to hear about your date first.”
“Oh, I’m going to marry this man.” I raise my eyebrows, and he shrugs. “Either that or I’ll stalk him. The point is, if this man ever gets married, I. Will. Be. There.”
“You know I’ll help either way,” I say with a grin. “When do I get to meet him?”
He leans his head from side to side as he thinks about it. “I don’t know.”
My eyebrows furrow. Miles has gone on a lot of dates, and he has never once brought up weddings. “Won’t you see him again?”
“Oh, definitely.” He gives me a reassuring nod. “He’s just new to being out, so it might take him longer before he’s comfortable coming over here and meeting anyone as my . . . anything.”
“That’s fair.”
He bites his thumbnail. “It is. I’m just excited and want to scream it from the rooftops.” He turns around to open the fridge and pulls out a High Noon. “I mean, I’ve been out since I knew the Pink Power Ranger didn’t do it for me, so it’s a little hard to wrap my head around, but I get it.”
“Give him time,” I say with a laugh. “He’ll come around, and when he does, I’ll be very excited to meet him. What makes this guy so different, anyway?”
“He just feels like a breath of fresh air. You’ll love him.” He takes a sip of his drink. “So, what’s all this stuff you have to tell me? Does it have anything to do with coffee guy’s penis? ”
“Somewhat.” His face lights up, and I point a finger at him. “Don’t get too excited.” Hopping down from the kitchen counter, I open the fridge and grab my own drink while I catch him up to speed on all things Chase, fake dating, and Christmas parties.
“And he said it’s fancy?” he asks once we’ve moved to the living room and relaxed on the couch.
“Yeah, so I might need your help picking something to wear.”
He shakes his head. “We’ll go shopping. Nothing in your closet matches that description.”
My eyes narrow, but I can’t argue with him.
“You know you’re playing with fire, right?”
My head falls back against the couch, and I stare at the ceiling. “I know.”
“I mean, you have a decent poker face. I’ll give you that, but you like this guy.”
“I hardly know anything about him.” It’s true. With all our texting and meet ups, I haven’t asked him any of my usual date questions. I know nothing about his family, his upbringing, and I have no idea where he sees himself in five years.
“But you still like him.”
Just thinking about my time with Chase makes my chest warm, and I know Miles is right. Maybe not knowing enough about Chase is just making me like him more. Because without concrete facts to shape him as a person, I’m left only with how he makes me feel. And for whatever reason, the amount of fun I have around this man is unmatched. Blowing out a breath, I relent. “I do.”
“And you’re going to get wrapped up in this.”
“Or,” I say, perking up. “Maybe this will get rid of whatever illusion I have.” Sitting up, I turn to face him and tuck my feet beneath me. “I mean, I barely know him. You know how someone always seems great on the first few dates, but then they aren’t.”
He looks unconvinced. “Yeah.”
“Well,” I say, getting more eager to share my theory. “This is a great way for me to realize he isn’t as great as he seems without having to dump him. We’ll go on a few fake dates, I’ll get to know him, and I’ll probably find out I don’t want to be with him anyway.”
“You might . . .” he says with a slow nod.
“I will.” I have to. Because if I don’t figure out what will turn me off for good, I am going to get wrapped up in this. I might be good at guarding my heart, but Chase has already broken down the barricades, and I’ve only known him for a few days.
Miles stares at me for a moment. When he speaks, his words come out slowly, like they’ve been carefully chosen. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”
To be fair, I’ve never felt like this, but Miles doesn’t need to know that. I open my mouth in a pathetic attempt to defend myself when my phone vibrates on the couch between us.
Miles arches an eyebrow. “Him?”
Reaching for my phone, I turn it over and look. “Yeah.”
Chase:
Let me take you out this week.
“What did he say?”
I glance at Miles before looking back down at my phone. “He wants to get together this week.”
Pursing his lips, Miles takes another sip. “Of course he does.”
Candace:
For practice?
Chase:
Of course. Strictly practice.
“You look disappointed.”
Miles’s voice makes my head snap up. “No,” I say too quickly. “I’m just trying to figure out my schedule.”
“Mhm,” he mutters, seeing through my lie.
Candace:
Does Tuesday work?
Miles watches me closely, but I also know Chase will answer in a matter of seconds, so I keep my eyes trained on my phone.
Chase:
Tuesdays aren’t good for me. My boss always makes me work late.
How about Thursday?
Candace:
Sure. Same place?
Chase:
No. I’m picking you up and taking you to dinner.
Dress nice.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Miles asks, and I let out a laugh.
“Nothing.” I let a smile stretch across my face. “Nothing at all.”