“I feel like I should say something smooth right now,” he said, leaning forward, “but all I can think about is how your coat makes you look like a very fashionable detective, like you’re about to solve a mystery and drop an album all in the same day.” His eyes went wide, and he ran a hand down his face. “That was stupid. Let’s pretend I didn’t say that.”
I bit back a smile. “I’ll have you know, this detective has excellent taste.”
“Oh, no doubt.” He gave me a shy smirk. “I mean, you asked to have coffee with me. Clearly impeccable judgment, if I do say so myself.”
I rolled my eyes and stirred my drink. “Are you always this charming?”
He tilted his head. “Definealways.”
“Like, is this an everyday thing? Or is it reserved for pop stars you pretend date on Sunday mornings?”
He grinned. “Only for you, Miles.”
“So…fake dating…”
Sawyer rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and watched me with annoyingly readable eyes. “I’m still in if you are.”
I dropped my voice, glancing toward the counter, even though I knew no one could hear us. “You really don’t have any other stipulations?”
“Nope. I’m a delight. No crazy terms.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Seriously.”
“I am serious,” he said, grinning like he wasn’t. “But fine. You want rules?”
“Maybe just one. An end date?”
He cocked his head. “Sure, if that makes you feel better.”
“Well, I don’t want to take over your whole life.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll survive, but I get it. Having a finish line makes it less…complicated.”
“Exactly.”
“So, how long does this media charade need to live to feel convincing but not, you know, spiral into joint holiday cards and matching dog sweaters?”
“Aww, you’ve thought about our future dogs?” I teased.
He tugged at his shirt. “Don’t judge. I look great in plaid.”
I tried not to smile and failed. “Okay, well, you’ve got football, obviously.”
He stretched one arm across the back of the booth. “Yeah. If we make it deep, I’m booked through late January, maybe early February. You?”
“Tour ends around the same time.” I tapped my nails against the cup. “We’ll both be on the go until then.”
“So the media blitz will be going on while we are both busy. We’ll need to be seen together when we can manage, or people will think we’re faking it.”
I arched a brow.
He grinned. “Well, more than we already are.”
I laughed under my breath. “Okay, so we start laying it on thick soon. Then what? Run the course until the Super Bowl?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Let’s say end of March? Gives us time to be in love and then gracefully implode before allergy season makes me all miserable and puffy.”
“Wow. You’ve really got the whole heartbreak arc mapped out. Okay. End of March.”
