‘Sneakin’ out of a girl’s bedroom,’ he jokes. ‘I’ve seen that in the movies.’
We leave the room together, heading for the door where Jake grabs his things.
‘I’ll just tell them you had to head out early,’ I say. ‘Will you be okay, getting back to Rosewood? I guess you could stay…’
‘Ah, that’s alright, I can take a cab,’ he replies. ‘But thanks for the offer.’
I suppose I should be relieved, I’ve avoided a cliché, the old ‘there’s only one bed’ that crops up in romcoms. I need to remember that my life isn’t actually a romcom; I’m only pretending it is.
‘I’ll see you there tomorrow, for the meeting?’ he checks.
‘I’ll be there,’ I say.
‘I guess now would be the time I’d kiss ya, if anyone was watching,’ he says with a smile. ‘Good job we got those boundaries, huh?’
‘Haha, right,’ I reply. ‘Goodnight, Jake.’
‘Night, Whit.’
I lock the door behind him and lean against it, exhaling.
Wow, I don’t know what it is, but I simply cannot be cool around him. Hopefully, it helps us sell the story of the two of us, if I’m all googly-eyed, but still.
I know, I know, it’s all fake. But imagine if he had kissed me…
18
You know, generally speaking, I felt like my life had become a little predictable as of late. Don’t get me wrong, I loved living with Andy, playing video games, watching movies and eating takeaways, and going out drinking with JJ, but really that’s all I did for fun. Otherwise I just worked – or tried to get work – or went on underwhelming dates. Either way, rejection was a recurring theme.
So it’s hard to wrap my head around the way things are all of a sudden. Pretending to be engaged. To a cowboy, no less. Him helping me secure a book deal, me helping him buy a house and a business. We shouldn’t need to go this far, to get what we’ve worked for, but here we are. Oh, and then there’s the small matter of my best friend, who I have recently decided I’m in love with, tying the knot out of the blue. I used to lie in bed and wish that life would get a bit more exciting – this was not what I had in mind.
Here I am, in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck (because he’s not going to hire a car for his time here, that wouldn’t be sexy enough, right?), watching the city disappear behind us as we head out into the countryside, to Rosewood. He offered me a ride – eventually I realised he meant a lift. Don’t ask where my brain went.
‘You okay?’ he asks me.
I suppose we’re too familiar now – on paper, at least – but I do kind of miss him calling me ma’am.
‘Yeah,’ I say, sighing as I look down at my phone.
‘Still blowin’ up?’ he asks.
‘Big time,’ I reply. ‘I can’t complain, my author socials have never been so active, but I might actually have to turn my notifications off. And maybe have someone pre-read my comments, because every now and then one is horrendously mean for no reason.’
‘The internet,’ he says. ‘I don’t really use social media. Never seen the point.’
‘For an author, it’s basically a requirement,’ I reply. ‘Not so much for my day job, my biography work, but if I want to be a successful novelist, then I’m going to need a fan base, one I can connect with.’
‘How did authors cope before?’ he asks. ‘Before social media?’
‘I don’t know, but I bet they never had anyone in the comments telling them they needed Ozempic,’ I reply.
‘I’ll pre-read your comments,’ he suggests. ‘See if anyone dare to say anything bad about me.’
‘No one has anything bad to say about you,’ I reassure him. ‘Anything that isn’t complimentary is just incredibly horny instead.’
He laughs.
‘And this is why I’m not online.’
