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“We’re at dinner in the North End, a fun little pasta place, and I’m all hyped with the idea that I might be getting engaged and that I’ll be able to plan my wedding throughout the last months of college,” she says, waving her hands several times. “And then he says, ‘Danielle, I want to break up.’ I keep it together long enough to empty my plate of spaghetti on top of his head and then leave.”

Not the twist I’d been expecting. Then again, Dani is a lot stronger than I expect.

“That sounds like an adequate response.”

She shakes her head. “Not now. I’m thinking I should’ve sat there and tortured him with my presence a bit longer. Made him pay for the meal and then headed out of there.”

I grin. “Personally, I wish I’d been there for the spaghetti dumping.”

A few seconds pass as we both finish our crepes and head outside into the warm summer air. More like humid.

“I’m not sure it was a slip but you just called yourself Danielle. Is there a reason you’re so against the use of your full name?”

Dani blows out a breath and frowns. “Everyone else in my life calls me Dani, except my ex. He’d called me Danielle from the very beginning and I thought it was sweet, endearing even. Now it just makes me want to throw up as it reminds me of him.”

I nod, understanding more than I thought I would. “I have similar problems. Not with my name, but random things that make me mad when I see them, all because of my ex-girlfriend.”

We walk several steps, heading closer to the harbor.

“So, back to your original proposal,” Dani says before her cheeks go a lovely rosy color. “I mean, uh, your business proposal. How long are you thinking? A couple weeks?”

I rub my chin, feeling the whiskers there even after the clean shave hours ago. “I hadn’t thought that far just yet. Would you be up for at least until the middle of August? That’s when most of the parties and events slow down. Well, until they pick up again in the fall.”

“That’s like what? Ten weeks?” She nods and says, “Yeah. I’m game. We’ll have to establish a few rules first, but this could be fun.”

“Rules like what?”

She blinks a few times and says, “I don’t know. My only frame of reference for a fake relationship is that teen movie about the girl whose love letters get sent to all her old crushes. There were definitely rules in that one.”

I shrug. “I’ve never heard of it, but yeah, sounds good.”

She squints her eyes a bit as she faces me fully. “Can I ask one tiny little favor?”

And all the great feelings I’d had spending the afternoon with her on a not-real date blow out like a storm on a windy day. This is what always happens. I get close and then they start requesting favors. Money. Gifts. Then again, she is agreeing to help me out.

“Sure. What do you need?” I say, trying to keep my voice light.

“The reason I originally called you today was that you’re on the list of ‘acceptable’ candidates to invite to our mixer at BU in a couple weeks. Will you come?”

I pause, surprised. “Of all the things you could’ve asked for and that’s it?”

Her lips part, like she wants to say something but isn’t completely sure what just yet.

“So, that’s a no?” she asks, her lips turning down.

“No, that’s a yes. You’re helping me out. The least I can do is make your job a little easier.”

She blows out a long breath and gives a quick squeal. “Thank you, so much. You don’t know how much that means. My boss has been on me to find more people to draw in so it will eventually benefit the university, which I think is lame. But I guess funding and all that is kind of important in a career like mine.”

I chuckle as she babbles on. “It would be my honor to escort you to my alumni mixer.”

Dani laughs. “Okay, Sir Miles of the Round Table. It’s a deal.”

“As for the rules,” she begins, and I have to laugh.

I nod. “Okay, let’s go over those. We’ll probably want to keep it low key, not telling anyone about it. I don’t need my mother thinking I’ve lost my mind.”

“Well, you just did propose to fake date. That either means you’re crazy or your mother is way too involved.”