I swing by Isla’s parents’ house in the early evening. As I walk up the stone pathway I try not to think about what I did to her—nearly did to her—against their house the other night. It’s a little weird picking her up at her parents’ place. It feels so…old-fashioned date-ish.
That’s what you wanted when you suggested practice-dates—to learn how to date again.
That’s not entirely true though. I simply wanted more time with her. And I’m getting it.
I pass the silver reindeer on the way to the porch and lift my hand to knock on the door—when it swings open.
“Rowan!” Isla’s dad’s Santa hat sits jauntily on his head, the bowl of popcorn in his hand smelling like butter and the movies. “Are you going to join us tonight? We’re watchingThe Naughty List,” he says with a wink.
And…I’m thrown off as I say, “I don’t think so.”
“Darling,” his wife chides from inside.
“Dad!” Isla groans from somewhere down the hallway.
“What?” her dad asks, all innocence.
“You didnotjust invite him to watch a racy Christmas movie,” Isla says, stomping down the hall.
Her dad grins impishly at me. “Oops.”
“Sweetheart,” her mom says, sliding up to him and gently smacking his arm, “Don’t do that again.”
“Because it’s date night,” he says to her, a little heat in his voice. “And you want me all to yourself.”
“Exactly,” his wife purrs, running a hand up his chest, and—holy shit—Isla’s parents are frisky. This is both very cool and completely mortifying.
“You two are embarrassing, and this must stop now,” Isla declares as she rounds the corner.
And…wow.
She’s not just wearing a skirt. She’s wearing a cream-colored sweater dress that hugs her curves.
My jaw hits the floor like a cartoon character’s. My skin heats. My mouth goes dry. I’m trying to remind myself this is fake, but the way I want her is all too real.
“You look…incredible,” I say, past the gravel in my throat.
Isla’s mom swings her gaze to her dad, and unspoken sentences—entire novels—pass between them.
When Isla reaches them, she says, “Don’t get ahead of yourselves. We’re dating for a few nights, then just going to the gala together.”
Ouch. For a few seconds, I feel like I’ve been slapped.Just the gala.But of course, that’s what our fake-dating deal is for—we’ll do this till Christmas Eve, then walk away as friends.
Too bad I can still feel the sting from those words.Just the gala.
“Right. Of course, dear,” her mom says, then flashes a small grin. “Which is why we got you a gift.”
Isla tilts her head, looking confused. “A gift because we’re…dating?”
Her dad snort-laughs. Her mom says with complete sincerity, “Yes. That’s exactly it. A dating gift. Let me go grab it.”
Isla swivels around to face her dad. “Do you know what this is?”
“I agree with your mother,” he says, faux robotically, and making it clear he knows what side his bread is buttered on.
“Dating gifts aren’t a thing,” she adds.
“Your mother is always right,” he continues.
