Page 48 of Somehow You Knew

Hazel snorts and I shake my head, but I’m fully aware that one month of our arrangement is almost over, inching us closer to the finish line. Not that I’m counting or anything.

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I’m writing to inform you of your first task. This one is fairly easy, in my opinion.

I want you to go on a date. All the bells and whistles included: hold hands, dress up for each other, share a favorite meal. And Gage, you need to open Hazel’s car door and pull out her chair. Be a gentleman.

BUT, the key component of the date will require you to go thrift shopping. While at the store (Judy will be expecting you), you have to choose outfits for each other and then have a photo shoot in your new get-ups. (Hazel, I know you know your way around a camera, but for this, let Gage take a few pictures, honey. If he breaks your camera, just know you’ll have enough money in five months to replace whatever you need, okay? Relinquish the control.)

I huff out a laugh. “Clearly, my aunt anticipated every argument that was about to come out of your mouth.”

She elbows me in the ribs, making me fold over with a grunt. “Too bad she didn’t anticipatethat.”

I stand tall again and put a bit more space between us, but the grin on my lips won’t go away.

Fuck, this girl is something else.

When you’re done with your photo shoot, you need to pick out and purchase something for your home. I assume you’re living at Hazel’s place, but part of living together means making the space yours—together. Find a new chair or piece of art to hang on the walls. Buy a new set of dishes and toss the old ones out. Buy a used board game that you can play on quiet nights at home. Whatever it is, make sure it’s something you agree on.

You have one week to complete the task and submit your proof to Timothy.

I love you both and hope this date night brings you closer.

Love,

Diane

Hazel folds the letter and sets it on the counter. “I just got a little nauseous, did you?”

“I’ve been nauseous since this started, Spitfire.” I chug down half of my soda as we stand there, processing what we just read.

“Honestly, this doesn’t sound too bad. I was expecting worse,” Hazel says.

“I think she’s just easing us into this.”

Hazel shrugs. “Well, whatever comes next, I know I can handle it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she glares up at me. “Can you?”

I take a step closer to her. “You know, now that I think about it, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy picking out something ridiculous for you to wear.”

“Right back at you, dickhead.”

“There’s that pet name again.”

“It suits you,” she says, her eyes dipping down to my mouth.

Instinctively, I mirror her, watching the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips, leaving them glistening under the kitchen lights. “When shall we commence this torture?”

“As soon as possible.”

“How about Thursday since that’s technically our one-month anniversary?”

She shrugs. “Sure. Makes it all the more poetic.”

“I’ll tell you one thing—don’t expect flowers or poetry from me on our date,” I say, dipping my eyes down to Hazel’s cleavage just long enough to catch a glimpse of her nipples hardening right before my eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think every time we spar like this, it turns her on.

Well, that makes two of us.

I feel my cock begin to swell against the zipper of my jeans as Hazel glares at me harder.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She takes a step back, shaking her head. “Well, this night just took a turn, and I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with it. I’m going to bed.”