Page 14 of Fake Crown

“Well done. You’ve become my senior English class in a slightly more attractive package.”

“Slightly more attractive?” I scoff. “I bet the hearts on my ex-girlfriend’s portfolio of photos say otherwise.”

“I don’t give away my hearts to just anyone.” Posey tucks in her chair and then flaps out her napkin.

“I think you might be emotionally stunted.”

“Says the guy who dated his girlfriend for a year and doesn’t know whether she’s in love with him. Your armchair diagnosis is unreliable.” She opens the menu. “Besides, I freely shared my worst memory. No hesitation.” She eyes me over the top. “You, on the other hand...”

“I didn’t share it because it’s common knowledge for super fans.”

“The only thing I’m a super fan of is your body.”

“Slightly.” I mock her claim about how attractive she finds me while the waiter fills our water glasses.

“Perhaps more than slightly.” She holds up a finger. “I never acknowledge any of her photos or yours. Not that you post much.”

“Maybe not with your finger on the button.” I lift my water for a drink. I’ve fallen behind on my hydration.

“Oh, there have been some fingers involved.” She gives me a naughty grin. “Two?” She shows me her index and middle finger squeezed together. “They just press a different button to demonstrate their approval.”

I choke on my sip of water. Did she just admit to masturbating to my photos? She could be lying to get a rise out of me, but I’m not convinced in either direction. Hot as hell, though. I could get used to these overshares—true or not. “I hope it was a satisfying experience for you.”

“To be honest, I hope other experiences prove to be more satisfying this weekend.” Her gaze travels over me.

“Than your own hand?” I tease.

“If your hand satisfies you more than someone else’s, they’re doing it wrong.” She doesn’t bother to meet my gaze as she peruses the menu. “I hope that’s not an indication of what I’ll be getting because...” She makes a thumbs down motion.

“Nice to see you’re capable of more than rotating your fingers in a circular motion around me.”

“Yep!” She purses her lips and peers over the menu again. “And if you see either happening while we’re together, you’re not winning any points.”

“Oh, there’s a points system?” I lean forward. “I do appreciate a challenge.”

“Ooh. You enjoy being treated like a child? Would you like me to create a chart? Maybe buy some stickers for it?”

The waiter appears at our table before I can say anything, not that I had much of a retort. Replies seem to drip from Posey’s tongue as though she has her witty autoreply engaged.

“Have you decided?” the waiter asks.

“We have a food voucher from a friend’s wedding,” Posey says, and she motions for me to get it out.

I pass it to the waiter.

He nods. “Ah, okay.” He rattles off the menu for starters, mains, and desserts.

“Ladies first,” I say to Posey when the waiter is done. She orders the mixed greens and rock fish. “Make it two. And a bottle of your house—” I gesture for Posey to fill in the blank.

“White.”

“Very good. I’ll bring your soup out shortly.” He takes the menus and disappears behind the serving doors.

The restaurant is quiet, and we sit sipping our water for a beat. When Posey isn’t talking, it feels like a punishment, as though she’s withholding her chatter. I’ve never been around a woman where I couldn’t wait to hear what she’d say next.

While I’m sure she can’t always be switched on, her witty banter amuses me. I’m somewhat surprised to admit it, but I’m enjoying myself. A few hours ago I met a complete stranger at the airport, and she already feels like a friend.

A slightly combative friend.