by Emma Hart
Bingo. I’d hit the nail on the head and hammered it right in.
“I came over to be polite and see how you are.” She pushed hair from her eyes and resumed her holier-than-thou look.
“Well, now you’ve seen,” Lauren said brightly. “You’ve made conversation and know he’s just fine. I don’t see that you have much else to talk about considering you aren’t bothering to introduce your date. But, oh wait, that would be awkward, wouldn’t it, since they’ve already met?”
Claudia’s lips pursed. “And you’d know all about that, would you?”
Lauren shrugged. “Enough that I can’t decide if you’re brave or stupid, given the last time you all saw each other, your date was balls deep inside you. Looks like he left them in your purse, too.”
Well, shit.
Claudia took a step forward, but Lauren didn’t even twitch. Instead of reacting to Claudia’s intimidation tactics, she sipped her wine, smiled, and looked at Claudia’s date.
“No offense,” she added in a chirpy tone.
He looked thoroughly unamused, his eyes darkening as he focused on her for a moment. “Claudia, let’s go.”
“I—”
He didn’t give her a chance to finish her reply before he took control of the situation and spun them around, sweeping her away before she could do any more damage.
Lauren tilted her head to the side. “You know, if we were monkeys, she’d be the kind of person I’d fling my poop at.”
The mouthful of beer I’d just taken shot straight up my nose and burned, and she pulled away, biting her bottom lip.
“Sorry.” She tried to hide her giggles. “For what it’s worth, she’d probably fling it at me, too.”
I bashed my fist against my chest and nodded. “You’re probably right. Also, this whole thing was worth it just to see you shoot her down like that.”
Lauren sighed. “I’m a woman. I’ve had years of dealing with bitches. I deal with one on a regular basis.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Myself.” She paused. “We’re all bitches. Some of us just hide it a little better than others, which is why it’s a surprise when we let the bitch flag fly high.”
I raised my eyebrow, smirking. “Was that you letting your bitch flag fly high?”
“Oh, no. That thing was only waving at half-mast. If it was fully up there, she’d be on the way to the emergency room to get treated for some burns I’d deliver.”
Right. Because she hadn’t already done that.
She smiled brightly before holding out her glass. “Could you please hold this for a second? I need to use the restroom.”
“I’ll hold your hair while you throw up after that performance.” I took the glass from her. “And I’m not even kidding.”
Laughing, she turned on her toes and stalked away, sweeping her hair around to one side of her neck. She glanced back at me with a little grin before she disappeared between two small groups of people.
Slowly, I shook my head.
She was beautiful, funny, and had the ultimate take-no-shit attitude.
Jesus.
If this date were real, I’d be fucked seven ways to Sunday.
“Why do you look like you just fell in love?” Trev reappeared with a beer in his hand. “Where did Satan go?”
I snorted. “Lauren ran her off. Literally. She told her that we were done talking here because the last time we saw each other, her nameless boyfriend was balls-deep in her and that he’d left his balls in her purse. He dragged Claudia off before she could start a fight.”
“Well, shit,” he breathed. “Seriously, if you’re not going to date this girl for real, I’m gonna.”
“No, you’re not,” I said firmly. “Just because I’m not dating her doesn’t mean you can.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s too good for you, you pervert. That’s why.”
Trev sighed. “Think Kirsty will find me a hot fake date like her?”
Laughing, I leaned back against the wall properly and said, “I don’t think there is another fake date like her.”
CHAPTER SIX – LAUREN
We’d both only had one drink each, so by the time we left the bar an hour later, both me and Mason were two things: hungry and thirsty.
Instead of hanging around and risking running into Claudia again, we got into his truck and headed for the one place you could always count on being there for you.
McDonald’s.
That’s right. Our fake date was officially over, technically, and McDonald’s was the last place you’d ever take a girl on a date if you were over the age of fifteen.
So to McDonald’s we went. Honestly, the idea of a double cheeseburger had me almost drooling over his dashboard. I was so ready to load up on carbs and regret it the next time I tried to put skinny jeans on.
It took us only a few minutes to get from the bar to the restaurant, and Mason slowed as we entered the parking lot. “Eat in or use the drive-thru?”
“Drive-thru,” I said without thinking. “There are people inside.”
Laughing, he changed gear and moved the car into the lane for the drive-thru. “Do you know what you’re having?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods? This is McDonald’s, man, not a fancy steakhouse. Everyone knows what they’re getting when they come to this place.”
“True. Sometimes I change it up, though. Big Mac or a cheeseburger?”
“Both good,” I replied as we moved forward. “Depends if you fancy something cheesy or saucy.”
He flashed me an amused look, lips twitching to the side. “Well, I’ve got saucy in the next seat, so I guess cheesy.”
A laugh exploded from me. “Saucy? Really? I don’t think anyone has ever called me saucy in my life.”
“Ah, well, you’re bold and flippant, so that means you’re saucy.”
“Ooh. Handsome, unavailable, and a smarty-pants. Aren’t you walking temptation for women?”
It was Mason’s turn to laugh—and he did. Hard. “That’s only half of it. You should—”
“Hello, what can I get for you?” The voice boomed through the speaker, startling us both.
“Shit,” he hissed. “Uh, hi, I’ll have a large Big Mac meal with a Coke and… Uh, Lauren?”
“I’ll have a medium double cheeseburger meal, two servings of bacon, extra cheese, add ketchup, but hold the pickles, mustard, tomato, onion, and lettuce, and a strawberry milkshake, please,” I rattled off my regular order.
What? I was a fussy eater. As in, I liked my junk food without vegetables or salad.
“All right, move through to the window, please.”
Mason eyed me as he did just that. “Really? Is ordering a burger that complicated?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m picky. About burgers, underwear, and men.”
“Three valid things to be picky about,” he said, amusement tingeing his tone. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re something else?”
“Yes, but it’s usually not a good something.” I side-eyed him.
“This is a good something. If this date were real and I had any intention of actually dating for real, I’d say this was a successful one.”
I held up my hand for a high-five. “I agree. Except for the altercation with the ex, that is. I wouldn’t advise that for a future first date. Or any kind of date, really.”
“Completely agree. I’d avoid it otherwise, too.” Mason pulled his wallet from his pocket.
“I can pay mine.”
“No, you’re good. Think of this as a thank you for letting my sister rope you into this nonsense.” He handed his card through the window before I could argue. “And I know you were partially to blame, but still. You didn’t have to agree.”
I made a noise that he could take as either dissension or agreement. I wanted to pay my way because this wasn’t a real date and I was stubborn, but a free cheeseburger was a free cheeseburger, and I wasn’t going to turn one down.
Yes,
I was, in fact, in a serious relationship with food.
It was always there for you. Good news, bad news, no news—it was a loyalty I could get behind.
We rolled forward to the next window and waited. Our drinks were handed to us, and we pulled up into one of the parking spots allocated for the drive-thru.
“I miss the plastic straws,” Mason said, eyeing the cardboard one in his hand.
“You ever tried to drink a milkshake through one of these? It’s like sucking the soul from a devil,” I replied, shoving the cardboard straw into the cup and showing him exactly what I meant. My cheeks were completely hollowed out by the time I got my first mouthful of frozen shake.
Mason stared at me for a moment. “You have one hell of a way with words.”
“I’d bow, but there’s a dashboard in the way.” I grinned. “And thank you. It’s one of the things I pride myself on.”
He chuckled, putting his drink in the holder. “You know, this could have gone so much worse. I didn’t want to do this at all, but now a part of me is glad I did.”
“Only because I took your ex’s stiletto and stuck it up her ass.”
“For all intents and purposes, yes, but what other reason would there be?”
At that moment, the McDonald’s worker appeared and handed the bag full of food to Mason. He passed it to me so he could reverse out of the waiting spot and pull into one of the regular spaces.
I split the food. “I don’t know,” I said. “My stunning personality? My quick wit? How great this dress makes my boobs look?”
His eyes drifted down to my chest.
“Hey. Up here.” I snapped my fingers.
He jerked his eyes up. “Look, you basically offered me a glance there. I was taking it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. So this night was good because I shot down your ex and my boobs look good in this dress. I’m not as bothered by that as you’d think.”
I’d had worse real dates, never mind fake ones.
“Well, if it makes your night better, Trev wants to date you for real.” He took a huge bite out of his burger.
Me?
Well, I choked on my fry. “I’m sorry, what?”
Mason wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand and swallowed. “He said that if I didn’t want you, could he have you?”
“I’m not the last pre-packed sandwich at the store.” Fucking men. “Besides, wasn’t he asking after Stella?”
“Yeah, but just in case it wasn’t glaringly obvious, he’s a fucking man whore.”
“Really,” I drawled, grabbing a few fries and dipping them in my ketchup. “I couldn’t tell.”
Mason glanced at me sideways. “So I can definitely tell him no?”
“You can definitely tell him no,” I confirmed. “I’m all good there, thanks. I don’t want to date anyone right now.”
“You and me both.”
“Well, any fake date that contains a bit of bitchiness to an ex and ends with a cheeseburger is worth my time.” I met his eyes and grinned, raising my milkshake. “Cheers.”
He tapped his Coke against my cup. “I’ll drink to that.”
***
Yawning, I spooned a can of wet food into Henry’s ceramic dish. He sniffed it for a minute before he turned away and stalked into the living room.
Fussy little shit.
I put the can aside to recycle and tossed the spoon, then washed my hands before I turned on the coffee machine. Nobody needed their coffee cup to smell like cat food. I slid my mug asking, “Does running out of fucks count as cardio?” beneath the machine, then I hit the button for it to go and eyed the gray smudge of cat as Henry quietly plodded across the kitchen.
I shook my head.
He was fussy, but he was still hungry. And a cat, which meant he was a pain in the ass by default.
I took my cup from the coffee machine and poured in some cream before I added a lump of sugar. While I hadn’t stayed out late last night for my fake date, it honestly felt like it’d lasted forever.
Or maybe that was just the part where I’d gotten a little too into being Mason’s girlfriend and shot his ex down.
Look—it’s already well established that I’m not perfect. I’m not always the best at thinking before I speak, and sometimes, I battle bitchiness with bitchiness.
Yes, yes, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, but I don’t want to catch flies.
I want to swat them.
Which was exactly what I did with Claudia last night. I swatted her bitchy little behind until Mr. No-Balls took her away before she made a fool of herself. Well, a bigger fool than she already had.
That had happened the second she’d thought it was a good idea to go and talk to Mason.
I blew out a deep breath and put some bread in the toaster. Thank God it was over and not my problem anymore, meaning that Claudia wasn’t either.
She was hard work.
That didn’t mean I was fully against everything. Actually, in a weird way, I was a little gutted I wouldn’t see Mason again. He was exactly the kind of guy I would have picked off a dating app—which meant it was probably a good thing I wouldn’t see him again, given my disastrous track record.
Still, we’d had a fun time. At least, I’d had one. Not only was he hot as hell, but he made me laugh, and we’d gotten along really well, in my opinion.
Shit happened, though. He wasn’t ready for a relationship, and I didn’t blame him. Claudia cheating on him aside, she struck me as the kind of woman who had the mentality of, “I don’t want him, but you can’t have him, either.” Getting into a relationship would probably be more hassle than it was worth for him.
And that was fine by me. I didn’t particularly want one right now either—some people were happy being single, thank you very much. Even if I did want a relationship, I most definitely didn’t want one that came with a pain in the ass ex.
I already had my sister and two best friends to be that for me. I didn’t need anyone else’s problem.
My toast popped and I pulled it out to butter it while it was still hot. When it was done, I picked up one slice and leaned against the counter, looking out of the window.
It wasn’t much of a view. Half a brick wall and some trees that occasionally gave me an elusive glimpse at the Gulf of Mexico wasn’t much to write home about, but sometimes, swaying leaves were calming.
Ugh. I was too poetic this morning. This was why I didn’t go on dates. They made you mushy and shit—and I was not mushy. I was not baby food, even if I did enjoy the odd spoonful of applesauce.
My grandma made a boss applesauce.
I was getting off track.
The morning was beautiful. The kind of morning that sadistic directors in romantic comedy movies ruined by sending stupid texts or having an idiot knock at the door. You know, that stereotypical bullshit where the birds were singing and the sun was shi—
And three knocks sounded at the door.
I almost dropped my coffee cup.
“I have carbs!” Madi’s voice was muffled as she knocked again.
Ah-ha.
There was the idiot who knocked at the door.
“What kind of carbs?” I shouted back.
“All of them!”
I’d take it. “It’s open!”
“Ugh.” Madi shoved the door open. “You made me stand there like an idiot, why?”
I shrugged and grabbed another coffee cup, this one emblazoned with the phrase, “This is probably alcohol,” to make Madi a drink. “It was for my own amusement. You’re awake early.”
“Ugh,” she repeated, tucking her hair behind her ear. “The couple upstairs were having a blazing row at six a.m., so I went for a run and decided to come over here.” She set a big, brown paper bag with my favorite bakery’s logo on the side on the island and slid onto a stool. “How did your non-date go last night?”
I groaned, pushing her coffee toward her. “He was beautiful, Madi. It was as though he’d walked ri
ght out of a wet dream and materialized at my door.”
She choked on her mouthful of coffee. “All right, then. And the rest?”
I gave her a quick run-down of the evening before launching into my rant about Claudia. “Honestly, she’s the kind of person you’d throw your shoe at. I swear to God; she’d make a saint contemplate murder. She was just…catty.”
“And you sound like a regular nice girl right now.”
“Oh, come on. I’m not always a bitch.”
“Only days that end in ‘y’, right?”
“Right.” I dove my hand into the bakery bag and pulled out individually packed pastries. “But I’m, like, your friendly neighborhood bitch. I’m here for your side-eyes and your resting bitch face and the occasional catty comment. She’s the smug bitch who saunters around on a horse so high that, when she falls, she’ll hit the ground so hard that she’ll go straight to hell.”
Madi took a pastry, laughing. “You’re right. You are the friendly neighborhood bitch. You should put that on one of your beloved mugs.”
I glanced at my cupboard full of slogan mugs. “I might just do that.”
“Right, while you order that, tell me more about Mason. He sounds like a snack and a half.” She tore her croissant in half and waved one half at me. “He’s the kind of guy I’d like to lick up and down with—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “I know. He is. Honestly, if I wanted to date, then he’d be the perfect guy. But I don’t, so he isn’t.” I pulled my own buttered croissant out from the bag. Screw the toast I’d eaten—there was no such thing as too many bread products. “Besides, did I mention his ex cheated on him? He said he doesn’t want a relationship.”
“And you’re totally fine with all that?”
“Mad, I went on the date because you, Tina, and Iz made me. You guys are the only reason I ever put that bullshit ad up.” I held up a bit of my croissant. “Without that, it never would have happened. Was Mason hot? Yes. Was I attracted to him? Yes. I can move on and live my life perfectly fine without ripping off his pants and riding his penis like a motorized bull.”
That’s what dirty dreams and vibrators were for.
“Can you?” Madi asked. “Because that was pretty intense.”