“That must’ve been hard to hear.” He reaches out and rubs my upper arm in a gesture of comfort. I don’t know why I’m telling him all this. I’ve only ever told my closest friend this story. What is it about Ant that makes me run my mouth? First, all that stuff about my name, now this. “It’s interesting she gave you a Hindi name.”
I’ve always wondered that myself. But no matter how I approached the question, Mum has always been a vault.
“She’s never explained that. She just clams up and refuses to talk about it if I ask. Maybe it was a last act of rebellion. I don’t know. Whatever her motivations were, Grandie shortened my name to the acceptable Lili. And by the time I was five, Mum had married the kind of man Grandie approved of and redeemed herself.”
“Your grandmother sounds scary.” Ant shudders dramatically, making me laugh despite the painful topic.
“Yep. Grandie is not the kind of woman you cross. Normally, I can keep her out of my personal life. But with my cousin—who is much younger than me—getting married, she’s on a mission to have all her granddaughters married off and ‘respectably’ settled. And I think maybe Mum is wanting grandbabies.”
“Oh, well, if they’re wanting grandbabies, we’re going to need to do a lot more than hold hands.” He leans back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head and stretching out his long legs until they bump mine under the table. The contact sends a rush of warmth up my leg to settle, well, everywhere.
“What part of fake dating are you not getting?” I snap while I struggle to control my physical reaction to him.
“I just want to do a good job. I was the lead in the school play in year six. I have a reputation to uphold. And I’m a method actor.”
He’s got to be kidding. Right? But his trademark smirk is missing. He looks, well, if I had to describe it, I’d say earnest.
I guess my thoughts show on my face because suddenly he’s laughing again.
“You’re really going to need to read me better if we’re going to pull this off, Flower.”
“Flower?”
“I need a nickname for you, obviously. And sweetheart and darling are so overused. I need something different. Unusual. I’m not your regular bog-standard boyfriend, after all. I need to be something special to snag a woman like you.”
Based on previous boyfriends—all three of them—special must mean self-obsessed and condescending, but whatever.
“Would it be too much to ask that you take this seriously? Lili will do just fine.”
“Oh, I’m very serious. And you’re stifling my creativity here, Flower. Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Flower is a bit cumbersome. I’ll workshop it.”
I don’t dignify that comment with a response. I’m learning that conversations with Ant are like a fast game of ping-pong. He’s managed to take me from talking about a very painful subject to being exasperated and, at the same time, amused by him. I choose to ignore the attraction that runs underneath it all.
“Did you at least read my bio?”
“Yeah. Nah.”
Of course he didn’t.
Back to exasperated.
Chapter Six
Ant
If people’s blood really did boil, there’d be steam coming out of Lilavati’s ears. Lilavati. It’s a pretty name. And it might not be a good descriptor for her, but I’m still as intrigued as I was when she stomped off across the car park the day we met, back straight, sun shining on her hair like black glass.
Maybe more.
After she left the café last week, Nathan grilled me and gave me all kinds of shit about how hot she is. And I don’t know why, because Nate and I are good friends and I’ve never been the secretive type, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the fake dating. So now he’s under the impression we’re actually dating. Or that I’m at least attempting it. Which is why he’s so curious, because it’s been a while since I’ve shown anything more than a passing interest in anyone.
There are some men who like women who are amenable. Turns out I’m not one of them. I love how Lilavati gives me attitude. I’m living for the banter with her right now. Especially coupled as it is with what she seems to think are sneaky looks.The way her eyes worked their way up my thighs and across my belly earlier did not escape my notice. But best not think on that too much, or I’ll embarrass her in the middle of her workplace cafeteria.
“Anyway, let’s get you some food before our hour is up.” I stand and hold a hand out to her, which she ignores.
Today she’s in ugly green scrubs and rubber clogs. How does she manage to make them look sexy? Her arse is perfection as we head over to the cafeteria line to make our selections. And I don’t know where a tiny woman like that puts it, but she orders a chicken burger with chips and a piece of lemon meringue pie. I slip the cashier my card before she even has time to consider paying for the meal.
“This is not a date,” she grumbles as I load the dishes onto a tray and carry them to our table.
