“Staring at me,” Simon said around his third mouthful, which was when I realized I’d been doing that instead of eating.
I shrugged and looked down at my sandwich, which I’d gotten as far as picking up but not actually taken a bite of yet.
“I like watching you eat.”
Simon raised an eyebrow, mouth too full to say anything.
“You like eating,” I explained, realizing that had sounded weird. I wasn’t sure I was making it sound less weird now, but since I was already digging a hole, there wasn’t much point stopping now. “I like seeing you happy.”
Simon made a sound that might have meantoh, I get it now,oryou’re so weird. Whichever it was, though, I knew it was meant with affection.
“Ilike being sure you’re not going to drop dead of starvation,” he said once he’d swallowed his mouthful. “Eat.”
I obeyed, partly to make Simon happy, partly because I really was hungry again this morning. Yesterday had been more exhausting than I’d thought. I was grateful for the coffee—burned or otherwise.
“You pass out from low blood sugarone time…” I muttered between mouthfuls, rolling my eyes. I’d been fine. It really only had happened once, when we were still in college.
It’d freaked Simon out, though. That was obvious from the fact that he’d refused to let me go hungry in his presence_—and sometimes out of it—ever since.
“And your best friend worries about you forever, yeah,” Simon said, flashing a broad smile at me, his eyes glittering with the promise of laughter. He was dressed down this morning by comparison—jeans, but new ones that fit properly, and a soft-looking linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned far enough for a tempting peek at his collarbones.
He looked…
Sexy.
There was no other word for it. And I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. While he was standing in line, a woman in athleisure wear had struck up a conversation with him, ponytail swishing as she’d laughed at something he said. The guy serving in the food truck had given him a speculative once-over before Simon had gestured at me and he turned the visible-from-twenty-feet-away flirting down a couple of notches.
“Did you tell the food truck guy I was your boyfriend?” I asked as I realized he must have.
Simon paused mid-bite, licking his lips. He glanced at my face, then turned his attention to his sandwich. “Maybe,” he told it.
A smile tugged at my lips. I nudged his foot under the table to let him know I wasn’t mad.
I wasn’t madat all. We’d pretended to be together all yesterday evening—but that was in front of my family.
This was different. This was casually turning a stranger down in favor of a fictional boyfriend.
Me.
The guy serving at the food truck thought Simon was my boyfriend.
I wriggled in my chair, taking another bite of my breakfast to avoid grinning like an idiot about that. It was just a lie. Just another spur-of-the-moment lie to avoid an awkward situation.
But the fact that it wasSimonpretending he was datingme…
“Guess we’re even now,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I think I might still owe you a favor or twelve.”
I already owed Simon hundreds of favors. He never called them in.
I wished he would. He was so good to me, but he never let me do anything for him except occasionally grab him coffee, and even that he fought me on more often than not. Even knowing now that I was coming into an absolute fortune in a couple of years, he’d still insisted on buying me breakfast this morning.
Simon licked bacon grease off his thumb once he was finished with his breakfast, sitting back and sipping his coffee. I was still working through my sandwich, always slower than he was. He never complained, or rushed me.
The beachside setting suited him, the combination of his natural summer highlights and the linen shirt giving him what I thought Delilah would call anelevated surfer chiclook. I hadn’t forgotten the glimpse I’d gotten of what his body looked like under his clothes these days, and the shirt he was wearing was just fitted enough to make my fingers itch to reach out and touch him.
I hadn’t dated in a year—since I broke up with Corey—and hookups had never held any appeal for me. No matter how much evidence I accumulated to the contrary, I always believed whoever I was dating wasit, for me. That I’d be with them forever.
