Page 56
Touché.
This time, I allow my chuckle to really escape. The unintentional humor this woman has is addictive. She only narrows her eyes at my amusement.
“I’m serious. What if I could help you?”
“And how would you help me, Parker?”
Fuck, I love when she’s so worked up that she calls me by my last name. Even if thoughts of my biological one linger in the background of everything I do.
“Well, you need a place to practice and an alibi to get you there, right?”
She can’t practice with everyone else, and I have the means to find a place for her wherever we go. If she needs a way to escape her crew, what better way to get people off your back than spend time with the one person they won’t question.
Your boyfriend.
She nods, tight and uncertain.
“Date me.”
My stomach swarms. Is this what butterflies feel like?
“What!” her voice booms, fading through the music like it was an intentional ad-lib of the DJ’s set, her eyes flaring wide.
“Be my girlfriend—well, fake girlfriend,” I clarify to calm her nerves and mine.
I’ve never had one before. Even if I had, the title would be meaningless in comparison to what it could mean with her.
“You’re fucking joking.” Fia curls over, hands to her knees in a heaving fit of laughter. “I’d have to be on my death bed to voluntarily be your girlfriend.”
Has my reputation made me so undesirable, even Fia can’t fathom the thought of dating someone like me?
“Well, lucky for you, it wouldn’t be real. Just trying to help out a friend.”
Her eyes squint at my use of the word “friend,” something painful behind the emerald color that dims them just slightly.
“We’re not friends,” she insists.
“Since our work coincides, consider us colleagues, then.”
She scoffs as her glittery gold fingernails find a home on her hips. Our eyes don’t leave each other, and I keep the smile on my face as sincere as I can, hoping she’ll crack.
“How would it work?”
My insides jump at her consideration.
“I’ll find a place for you to practice wherever we are and help you get away from the rest of the dancers. If that means planning fake dates, spontaneous outings, so be it. Whatever needs to happen to get you the time you need.”
Her eyes search mine. “Mhm. And what’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“Bullshit.” Her vulgar mouth is sugar to my senses.
“I don’t need anything in return.”
She nods, but it’s not agreeable. “Ah, that makes a lot of sense. You’re just helping me out of the goodness of your heart?”
I shrug, unable to hide my smirk. “I do have one good heart.”
