Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Finally, I take a deep breath. “I’ve had a rough night,” I say, glancing around, hating that people are now staring at us.
Can this get any worse?
Date number two and I’m already causing a scene. Some help you are. At this rate, I’ll be fired within the hour.
“So…you wanna leave?” There’s that bite again. He’s definitely annoyed with me.
My face contorts, and my cheeks heat. If I keep up this behavior, we’re going to get into a fight, as is people are starting to notice that we’ve stopped moving. I can only imagine what this looks like to the outside world since my body language screams defensive. Shit. I’m going to blow this sham of a relationship up. I’m about to answer, probably making this moment even worse for us, when he swoops down and pulls me into his chest, getting so close to me, I feel his breath skim across my nose. I glare up at him, and he smirks.
Asshole.
He leans into my ear for only me to hear his next words.
“Congratulations, Cassidy. We’ve had our first public fight. We’re officially official to everyone in this room.”
I pull away, eyes narrowed in on him. “What?”
“We’ve had a relationship in secret for some time. Arguments occur. We just happened to have one tonight, brought on by the stress of that asshole reporter.” He glances around. “Every guy here hates the press more than the next. They’ll sympathize and won’t want to upset you by prying or poking at you.” He bends down and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. “You’re welcome.”
I’m speechless.
That was…all an act? To save me from interrogation? The fact that he could read me so well…that he knew why I was struggling, just goes to show that he sees way too damn much.
I can’t do this. Before the night’s out, that little faux argument is likely going to be on social media. People were gawking at us. Thrilled to find that Aiden Slate is open to dating.
I could see it in their eyes. Hunger.
They were probably giddy at the prospect that we’re already fighting.
Dear God, what is wrong with me?
It feels like my life is spiraling, and things that haven’t bothered me in years are suddenly rearing their ugly heads again. I’m concocting stories about the women around me, making them villains when they’re just here having a good time with their friends.
I’m losing my shit.
It was one thing to think I could pretend once or twice, but the reality is, I’m no good at it, which spells trouble. If I throw myself all in as the girlfriend. If I allow him to let me in piece by piece under falsities, and he ever finds out the truth…
“Hey, Cassidy. How’s it going?” I hardly register that Aiden’s friend, Hudson, has spoken. He bends down, waving a hand in front of me. “You alive down there?”
“Give her a break, man. This is new to her. Hell, some jerk of a reporter bombarded us on our way out of dinner.”
His eyes widen. “Shit. That sucks,” he says, running a hand back through his hair. “This is why I don’t do relationships.”
“That’s why?” Aiden asks, snickering.
“Well…one of the many.” Hudson smirks. “It’s frustrating as hell. I bet you were ready to throw down.”
“Now you know why I choose not to go out.”
“I hate being here as much as you do. Not my scene.” This time, it’s Dane who speaks as he steps up to where we’re gathered. He looks out at the throngs of people and frowns. There’s something sad in his stare, and I wonder what his story is.
“Why don’t you get your girl a drink?” Hudson says.
“I’ll go with you,” Dane offers before glancing at Aiden. “She’ll be fine here. It’s roped off.”
Aiden holds my stare, waiting for me to give the okay. “Lord knows I want one.”
He smiles. “Sure. I’ll grab them with you. What do you want?” Aiden asks me.
I go right for the strong stuff. “Tito’s on the rocks with some lime juice.”
“Got it. I’ll be back.” He and Dane step away, and I’m left standing with Hudson and feeling awkward.
Hopefully, he doesn’t try to make small talk before I’ve gotten my drink.
“I still can’t believe you’re dating my boy.”
Great. So much for that. I escape one inquisition, only to be left to fend off another.
I straighten my back and prepare to be barraged with questions. “What’s there to believe? He’s a great guy.”
He steps around so that we’re face-to-face. He’s handsome, in a boy-next-door sort of way. But he looks like he should have been an all-American football star as opposed to a hockey player, with his dirty blond hair and translucent blue eyes.
“That he is.” He pulls one side of his mouth up. “He tells me everything, and this was a surprise.”
“Turns out, I’m his best-kept secret.” The irony of those words isn’t lost on me.