“You’d think our mutual dislike of people would bring us together, but…it’s also what keeps us apart,” I say.
“Oh, look who’s here,” Becca says five hours later when we arrive back at our house.
I turn off the car before glancing at the large figure sitting at the top of the steps, his bright white T-shirt reflecting the late afternoon sun and drawing my eyes to him like a beacon.
Fuck. I thought I was ready for this, but I’m not. I’m not ready for this.
“This was a bad idea,” I say to Becca in a hushed tone, frantically searching for a way to leave without making it obvious that I’m simply fleeing. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
Becca glances at Jaxon, clearly noting the way he’s now standing on the top step, apparently trying to decide if he should come over to the car or not.
“Jaxon is the easiest way to get what you want: a date to your sister’s wedding. And even though you refuse to admit it, you actually like the guy. It’s not going to be a big deal.”
“Right,” I say, taking a deep breath and opening my door. “I can do this.”
I can totally fake date my ex-best friend.
Chapter nineteen
Jaxon
“Hey,”Isay,unsurewhat to do with my hands as Izzy and Becca approach the house. Do I go in for the hug? A handshake? Instead, I shove them in my pockets, opting for a closed-lip smile and head nod.
“Jaxon,” Becca says, mimicking my head bob. She continues past me and into their house, stepping over the takeout bag sitting in the middle of the stairs.
Izzy’s dark brown eyes meet mine. It feels so familiar and yet, something about the way my heart speeds up is a completely new reaction to Isabel Harper.
“Hey,” she says, a cautious smile on her lips.
I move slowly, trying not to scare her away. I can tell one wrong move might send her running.
“I brought takeout,” I say, picking up the bag.
“Thanks,” she replies, looking anywhere but at me.
“I did promise I’d feed you.”
“It’s a top five requirement of a fake boyfriend,” Izzy says, biting her right thumbnail. “Do we feel this is more of a kitchen-table conversation or a front-porch conversation?”
I take in her front yard, and despite having sat here for the last forty-five minutes, I’m suddenly seeing it through a new lens. The light-tan house sits behind a big grass lawn, divided perfectly by a narrow sidewalk. The street is in a part of town I didn’t frequent much growing up, despite being just a few blocks away from the middle school. There’s space between the houses, but not enough that they won’t overhear us if we talk too loud.
“Inside seems safer from town gossips,” I reply.
Izzy shrugs like she couldn’t care less. “I had them convinced I was fighting with an ex-boyfriend who wanted to get back together after I yelled at you on Sunday, but based on the way you’ve made yourself at home on my porch, I’m going to assume it’s too late for that.”
I follow Izzy into the house, stopping to toe off my shoes when she does.
“I may have been waiting for a little bit,” I confess.
“Well, I hope you’re ready for everyone to know you’re back in town and spending a lot of time with me. Though, that ship sailed the first morning you picked up coffee for me at Wild Brews.” She seems to be considering it. “It’ll probably work out well for our fake-dating charade, though.”
“No one came out of their house since I’ve been here,” I reply. “I’m not sure any of your neighbors are home.”
From the disbelieving look on her face, Izzy seems to disagree, so I continue, “No one came and asked me for an autograph. That doesn’t happen if people are around.”
She snorts, though lifts a hand to her mouth like she’s trying to keep it in. With a shake of her head, she starts to clear a pile of mail off the small, four-person table.
“Make yourself comfortable, big shot,” she says on a laugh as soon as the table is clean.
