Page 12 of Pick Six

“So step one of us getting along is probably you not reacting to everything I say and do as though it's revolting…” he calls out through the wall.

My hands pause on the first shirt in the drawer, and I stare down at the pile. I guess he has a point. But trying to find as much about him as revolting as possible has been a self-defense mechanism I’ve used since the day we met. It’s going to be difficult to undo all that hard work.

“I’ll work on it!” I call back.

SIX

Harper

“I’msorry I fucked up and you’re stuck in the middle of it. Truly.” He looks over me once and then his eyes drift out toward the water. “If I knew another way…”

We’re sitting on the deck of a burger place under the awning off in a corner. I’m mostly just praying he’s not recognized because I’m not ready for that side of things yet—maybe never. But especially now when I have a cut and bruised lip that I don’t feel like showing off, I’m extra cautious. I glance back toward the inside of the restaurant and everyone seems lost in their own worlds and conversations so I’m not too worried, but it still makes me nervous.

“The owner here won’t let anyone bother us. She’s a good one.”

My eyes snap back to his, realizing he can read my thoughts. I don’t like the little whisper of curiosity I have at how he knows the owner or how she’s a “good one”. I can guess. Probably the same way he knows most women in his orbit.

“And she’s a married friend of my sister’s. So don’t get fuckin’ ideas.”

I frown at the fact he’s read my mind twice in the same number of minutes.

“Stop reading my mind,” I grumble, eating another French fry off my plate.

“Stop being obvious about what’s on it.”

I glare at him for half a second for being right and then look out at the water.

“How is the lip, anyway?”

“It’s fine. A lot better than it was. How’re the knuckles and the side?”

“Fine. Nothing I don’t get most weekends anyway.”

There are a few moments of silence then, as we both eat our food and watch people walking down the pier.

“So how does this work anyway?” I ask finally, wanting to know what my fate’s going to look like if this is a thing we’re doing.

“I’m gonna talk to Drew and my PR team later after we’re done here. Let them know the situation. I’m sure they’ll have thoughts.”

“That’s good, minus the Drew part. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“So you’re sure you want to tell him this is fake?”

“Yes. Better that than telling him it’s not and having him find out. Let’s go the route of least humiliating for me, shall we?”

“As you wish.” He smirks, and I give him a look.

“So what does this look like in practice though, between us? We just have to go out on dates a few times and be seen or whatever?”

“Something like that. I did a stint a few years back with some actress that was coming up because my publicist Sam thought it would be good. It was basically that. Just going out. Doing some couple things. Making sure cameras saw us.” He shrugs.

“Okay.”

“I have a few things we can do. A friend’s bar is opening and there’s another fundraiser event this week. Then I can get you tickets to the first game.”

“This week? Okay.” This week sounds soon. Too soon.

“If there’s anything you want me to go to with you, just let me know.”