Page 8 of Fake Dates and Home Plates (Way Off Base #1)

Chapter Eight

Theo

I spot her the second she walks out of her apartment building. Enjoying the brief moment before she sees me, I take the time to look her over.

Dressed in black pants and a pink tank top that accentuates her abdomen, she looks beautiful, a flannel wrapped around her waist. Her hair’s pinned behind one ear, the waves tumbling over her shoulder and getting caught in the strap of the bag she’s struggling to drape across her body.

When she sees me leaning against the passenger door of my Jeep, her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile.

I make a show of straightening and pulling the door open for her with a deep, theatrical bow. “My lady.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is this the full Prince Charming package?”

“Oh, absolutely. I figure I might as well give you the entire experience.” I’m absolutely going overboard, but it’s worth it just to amuse her.

Henley snorts, but climbs in. “I’m still deciding whether the plan is genius or terrible.”

Genius, for sure. My Jeep has never looked better than it does right now, with her smiling in the passenger seat.

I shut the door dramatically, run around the front, and hop into the driver’s seat. “It’s probably both, but it’s going to be entertaining. That picture you posted last night had a ton of comments.”

All of them with differing opinions—some people commenting on how fast she moved on, others trying to pick out a couple name for us.

I’m partial to Barkin, the fusion of our last names.

“Yeah, people have a lot to say,” she mumbles, mostly to herself.

Without words, I hand her the cord to play music from her phone, and even though we ride in silence, it doesn’t feel awkward at all.

Our destination isn’t a fancy restaurant or a movie theater. Even if Henley thinks this is all fake, I’m not going to waste her time with something impersonal.

It doesn’t take long to get to one of my favorite spots in the city: a bookstore with an attached coffee shop that sits at the end of the block in the less popular area downtown.

It has floor-to-ceiling shelves, and the tables are rarely occupied. It’s my favorite place to study.

Henley gives me a sideways look as we pull into the tiny lot. “Our date is at a bookstore?”

“Technically,” I say, turning off the engine, “I brought you to a bookstore slash café that serves the best frozen mocha in town. Thank me later.”

She slowly unbuckles her seatbelt. “I wasn’t expecting…this.”

I’d be disappointed if I were predictable, but I still want to make sure she’s interested. “Have I let you down?”

She shakes her head. “Surprised. In a nice way.”

Score.

I open her door again like a menace and offer my arm. “Would you like to play pretend and drink overpriced lattes while I find a book for the week?”

“Sure,” she says with a shrug, linking her arm through mine.

Inside, the space is cozy, with numerous seating options. It’s quiet, save for the soft jazz music playing over the outdated speaker system. I inhale the smell of espresso before waving at the barista.

“The usual?” he asks me.

I nod before adding, “Make it two, please.”

This guy is usually the one here on weekdays, but I recognize him from campus too. His nametag says Gavin.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Henley nervously snap the scrunchie on her wrist.

I grab her hand without really thinking and lead us to a table in the corner. “Everything alright?” I ask her.

“Perfect,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Did you run today?” Because I’m a conversational genius, I ask the girl known for running all about running. Great. The confidence I’m faking is wavering.

She hums a little laugh, tracing her finger along a crack in the wooden tabletop. “I did. Six miles at an easy pace.”

“Six miles sounds criminal,” I say, hoping to pull a real smile from her. “I don’t even drive that far unless I’m promised tacos.”

“Easy enough for me. At least it wasn’t hill repeats,” she says, more to her coffee cup than me. I raise a brow in question, and she explains. “It’s where you sprint uphill and jog back down, over and over again.”

Before I can ask another dumb question, Gavin sets down two frozen mochas. “Your weirdly specific drink order, times two.”

Henley lifts a brow as she takes hers. “Weirdly specific?”

I gesture at her drink. “Extra chocolate drizzle, blended twice so there’s no ice chunks, and topped with cinnamon. You’re welcome.”

She takes a sip, and I can tell by the way her eyes widen slightly that I’ve won again. “Okay,” she admits. “That’s actually insane. In a good way. But I probably shouldn’t have this much sugar one week into the season.”

“Oh, come on,” I say, grinning. “I’m sure this amount of sugar can only be good.”

She lifts her phone. “Smile.”

I barely have time to react before she snaps a picture of me, wide-eyed and mid-sip. Henley looks at the photo before showing it to me. It’s not my best, but it’s a genuine candid.

“Want to browse the books with me?” I tilt my head towards the aisles of bookshelves.

She stands, sipping her drink slowly, and I lead us towards the fiction section, winding around the tables and shelves until we get to my usual section.

She finds a romance novel with a baseball player on the cover and holds it up. “This you?”

“I actually wasn’t available for that photoshoot. They definitely asked me to model, though,” I reply, deadpan.

She grins and pulls her phone out again. I pose dramatically next to the book then sneak a peek of her reading the synopsis on the back.

Then, her phone buzzes.

And again.

Her eyes flick to the screen, and her jaw tightens. “It’s Dakota.”

Fucker.

She taps away at the screen and then tucks the phone into her purse without opening the messages. “Finally blocked him. Shouldn’t have waited this long.”

“Want to talk about it?” I ask carefully.

“Nope.”

I don’t press. I just walk beside her while she pretends nothing happened. She’s stubborn. I like that about her, probably more than I should.

“So what’s your major?” I ask, trying to appear casual as I grab a new release by one of my favorite authors.

This blurb on the back says it’s an angsty romance where the guy falls for his childhood best friend, a girl who doesn’t even realize that he’s completely obsessed with him.

Great, I guess misery loves company. I add it to my stack.

Henley smiles. “Original line of questioning, Baseball Boy.”

She indulges me, and we spend a few more minutes browsing before checking out and walking back to my Jeep.

The next date I plan will have to be longer. I feel greedy, wishing I could take up more of her time. An hour isn’t enough.

On the way home, she leans her head against the window, quiet but not closed off.

“I had fun,” she says finally.

I glance over at her. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am.”

I chuckle and shift into park outside her apartment. “Guess that means I’m exceeding expectations.”

She doesn’t move to get out yet. She lingers, eyes on mine. “This feels so easy, Theo. It’s comfortable in a way I didn’t expect. I think we might be pretty good at pretending.”

I nod slowly. “Don’t overthink it, Henley. Let’s just take it one day at a time.”

She opens the door before I can say anything else. “Good night, Barlowe.”

“Night, Harkin.”

And even though I know we’re faking it, I watch her all the way to the door, just in case she turns around.

She doesn’t.

But part of me still hopes she would.