“Here, boy,” Nick calls, and Bruno and his ever-wagging tail trundle over and flop down on the floor at his feet. “Okay. Show me the reason why you chose to fake date some arrogant rugby player,” he says with a grin, his eyes lit with mischief.
“Don’t forget self-satisfied.”
“Oh, yeah. My bad. Arrogant, self-satisfied rugby player. Better?”
I grin at him through my nerves. “See? You’re a quick study.”
He lifts his shoulder. “What can I say? I’m more than just my abs.”
My eyes flick to his impressive six-pack, and I feel myself blush once more.
Where is Darcy with that shirt?
“Look, Nick, we don’t have to do this. I know you were only playacting back there to show everyone we’re really dating and all.”
“No, I’m serious. I want to see your stuff.”
I scrunch up my face. “Really?”
“Really. That way I can talk about your amazing designs and make this thing even more authentic and aspirational.” His smile spreads across his face, and my heart drops a fraction.
What had I expected? That he would be interested in me for me? How ridiculous. He’s not. He’s only playing the game, just like me.
“Sure. Okay. Good plan,” I say brightly.
Feeling thoroughly self-conscious, I point to the mannequin in the corner with the beginnings of a new dress I was working on last night. “This is going to be a work dress. It’s corporate but not stuffy. That’s the look I’m going for. And, most importantly, it will be the right proportions for non-talls.”
“You do all your creating here in your room?”
“I do.”
“It’s a little tight with your machine and mannequin and everything.”
“When I make my first million, I’ll be sure to get myself a proper studio.”
“Good plan.”
I turn and open my closet and search through the rails. I’ve no idea what to show a guy who’s only interested in seeing my designs so he can make our relationship seem more real. But really, who would? It’s not exactly a situation you find yourself in a whole lot.
I go for the closest item, another sundress, this one a cornflower blue that I always feel pretty in. I hold it up for him to see.
“I bet you look cute in that.”
My blush gains momentum. “That’s the idea.”
“What else you got?”
I return my attention to my closet, when there’s a light knock on the door.
Darcy pokes her head around the door and says, “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
I press my lips together. My reply is curt. “No, Darcy, you’re not.”
“Oh, well. Here’s the shirt, Nick,” she announces as she walks in and proffers a Barbie pink T-shirt at him.
Nick takes it in his hands and examines it. “Err, thanks.”
“I know it’s pink, but I figured a guy like you is confident enough in his masculinity to wear anything, right?”
“Sure, yeah,” he replies as he holds the T-shirt up in front of him. “I was just thinking it’s a little small, that’s all.”
Darcy chews on her lip as she inspects the shirt with fresh eyes. “It’s not quite as roomie as I thought it was, but it stretches lots.”
He slips the shirt over his head and pulls it down his torso.
I’m forced to stifle a giggle. Tight enough to look like it could run a serious risk of cutting off his circulation, it only reaches as far as his naval, the scoop neck wide and low.
I read the words emblazoned across his chest and bite back a smile. “Apparently, you’re now a badass girl, Nick, if the slogan on your chest is anything to go by.”
He pulls at the shirt and looks down to read it. Lifting his eyes back up to mine, he replies, “What can I say? If I’m gonna be a girl, I may as well be a badass one, right?”
“Totally,” I agree with a laugh.
Suddenly, seeing him sitting in my high-backed chair with the floral cushions, looking ridiculous in that shirt totally diffuses the weirdness in the room. Any concern I might have had that he’s not interested in me for me seems petty. Who really cares? We’re in this thing together, and we need to get through it as best we can.
“I like that you’re going for that cut-off, expose your midriff look,” I say.
He nods. “Oh, that is so my look right now.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Darcy waggles her eyebrows at me suggestively as she leaves, and I give my head a shake. She’s having so much fun with this.
“What else you got, Ernie?”
I turn back to my closet and pull out a 70’s belted tunic I made for when Darcy and I performed an ABBA song at Cozy Cottage Café’s Open Mic Night a few months back. I got some boots and spray painted them silver, and we wore bright blue eyeshadow right up to our eyebrows. We looked amazing, if I do say so myself. Together, we sang Mama Mia to a packed audience, and being up on stage like that, having the time of our lives, was thoroughly exhilarating.
Personally, I wish I could wear the tunic more often. It’s cute and fun with just the right amount of sexiness.
“I know you’re non-tall and all, but is that a belt?”
“Very funny. It’s more of a costume, really. I made one for Erin, too. It’s ABBA-inspired.”
“More ABBA, huh?”
“I bet you would know more ABBA songs than any other band ever.”
“The Beatles?” he offers.
“Okay. The Beatles had a lot of songs, too,” I concede.
“Queen?”
“And Queen.”
“The Rolling Stones?”
I throw my hands in the air. “All right. I get your point, if you’re trying to get to know me, knowing ABBA is my thing is important. Do you like anything other than that rap music?”
“Oh, I like everything, even Waterloo.”
I arch my eyebrows. “Everything?”
“Pretty much. I listen to rap as you know, R&B, soul, pop, a load of different music.”
“It’s obvious to me I’m going to have to educate you.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing right now. I may be wearing a badass girl tee right now, but you won’t go getting me into one of your ABBA belts anytime soon.”
“We’ll see about that,” I reply with a waggle of my eyebrows.
I pull a floor-length black evening dress off the rail. I made it a couple of years ago for the Hawks’ season Kickoff Party, the biggest event in the Hawks calendar and the one Nick and I are going to together next week. “This is one of my favorites.”
“I bet you look incredible in that,” he says with a low whistle.
I shake my head at him. “There’s no audience here, Nick. You don’t have to compliment me.”
He shrugs. “I’m not doing it for an audience. I mean it.”
“Oh.”
He smirks at me. “See? I can be nice. Genuinely nice.”
“Who said you’re not?”
“Ah, you?”
“Yeah, well. I was young and silly back then.”
“It was last week.”
“Exactly. I’m a full seven days older and wiser now, and we’ve got our truce, remember?”
He lets out a low laugh as he shakes his head. “I remember. So, what’s your business model for all this?”
“My business model? What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are your goals for your fashion business, and what plans do you have to get there?”
Goals? Plans? Right now, it’s all only a dream.
“Oh, err, well, my goal is to become a full-time fashion designer someday, and…that’s about as far as I’ve got.”
“Look, I own a commercial diving business for tourists. I bought it about a year back, and one of the things my accountant made me do was put a business plan together. It gave me goals, things I wanted to achieve, and how I was going to achieve them. It’s not a day-to-day tactical thing so much
as a high-level this is where I want my business to be in five years sort of thing.”
“I didn’t know you own a business.”
He smiles. “Is that so hard to believe? There’s more to me than throwing a ball around a field and looking good in shirts that say badass girl, you know. But I am really rockin’ this shirt, right?”
I snort with laughter. “Have you seen yourself?”
He gets up from his chair and surveys himself in my floor-length mirror. “Yup, just as I thought. Rockin’ it.”
“You see? That’s another one of your qualities: you’re so modest.”
“If it wasn’t for my modesty—”
“—you’d be perfect,” I finish for him, and we share a smile.
Wow, this is so much better than hating the guy.
“Let’s back it up a bit. Do you have a website? A social media presence?”
“Not a website, but I’ve got an Erin Andrews Designs Insta account.”
“You’ll need a website, and you’ll need to be across all social media platforms. You’ve got to get your name out there. Get a hashtag and add it to every post.”
“I was going to add Nerick.”
“That is such a horrible nickname for us.”
“I know, right? I was hoping for something much more glamorous.”
“Make sure you wear your designs whenever we’re together. I’ve been getting my dive business name out there since I bought the company, and guess what?”
“It’s doing well?”
“Yup. We ferry customers to the best diving spots around Auckland.”
“Do you dive?”
“I love to, but I really only get the chance to do it when rugby’s in off-season. I’ve got a team that does the day-to-day running of the boats, although I do pop in sometimes to see how things are going.”
“You’re the star power factor, huh?”
His laugh is low. “Something like that.”
“What’s it called?”
“Dive Time.”
“Dive Time?” I ask with a grin.
“What’s wrong with that? My mom helped me come up with it.”
“It’s cute.”
“Thank you?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Anyway, Dive Time is my insurance policy for when my rugby career is over.”
“That’s smart.”
“Are you calling me smart, Ernie?”
A fresh wave of laughter hits me. “I guess I am.”
He picks my black dress up off my bed. “You should wear this to the Kickoff Party.”
I eye the dress. “Sure.”
Bruno scratches at the door and turns to look at Nick.
“That’s my queue to take him outside,” he says, walking to the door.
“In that shirt?”
“I’m totally secure in my masculinity, remember? Just ask your roommate.” He pulls open the door, and Bruno jogs out. “BRB.”
I hang up the clothes I’d shown him and head back to the living room, where I find my friends relaxing, drinking wine, and chatting.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Sophie asks.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact Nick Zachary is here in this apartment,” Jason says with a shake of his head.
“Technically he’s not in this apartment, Jas. He’s outside with his dog,” I reply as I pour myself a glass of wine. “And anyway, he’s just a guy.”
Jason laughs. “Nick Zachary is not ‘just a guy,’ Erin. He’s an incredible player who deserves to get back into the All Blacks, he’s a game changer for the Hawks, and he’s famous!”
Sophie pats Jason’s arm. “Please forgive my boyfriend. He’s having a total fangirl experience, aren’t you, honey?”
“Jason’s right, you know, Erin. Nick is not ‘just a guy.’ He’s a guy in my girlfriend’s badass girl shirt,” Alex says with a smile.
The door buzzes.
“That’ll be Nick,” I say as I spring up and press the button by the door. “Try and act normal, Jas. Please?”
“I’ll try,” he replies with a shrug, “but he’s not ‘just a guy.’”
It’s funny that someone as cool, calm, and collected as newly-minted doctor Jason is so star struck over Nick. I guess we all have our idols, and being a Kiwi male, rugby is in his blood—although successful photographer and world-traveler Alex appears to be immune.
The front door closes over, and Nick and Bruno come back into the room.
“Hey, I’d better get going. You guys look busy,” Nick says.
“Stay if you want,” Darcy offers. “We’re about to order Thai food and watch that new Netflix show.”
“Star Junction?” he asks, his eyes wide.
“That’s the one,” Darcy replies. “We’re so excited about the new series.”
“Well, if it’s okay with all of you?” Nick’s eyes flick to mine.
I shoot him a grin. “Totally.”
We spend the rest of the evening talking, eating, and watching Star Junction together. Nick is relaxed and easygoing, and everyone seems to like him. Jason remains completely starstruck but thankfully doesn’t try to shake Nick’s hand for an awkwardly long amount of time when he leaves.
By the time everyone’s gone, I’m exhausted and ready for bed, but Nick suggesting I set up a website is whirring through my mind. As Darcy places the last of the plates into the dishwasher, I begin researching how to set up a website. There are a bunch of options, but I find one that won’t break the bank and start to work out how I want it to look.
“That looks cute. You’ll need a cute logo,” Darcy says as she looks over my shoulder at my screen. “I know a site that can do it pretty cheaply as long as you know what you want. Your logo sets the mood for your brand.”
“Oh, I’ve got a bunch of ideas.” I pick up one of my sketchpads and show her the logos I’ve been toying with for, well, a long time.
“I like that one.” Darcy points at the Erin Andrews Designs logo with the simple, written text. “It’s classic.” She sits down on the barstool next to me at the kitchen counter. “Nick is such a nice guy. He’s not at all the arrogant jerk you told me he was.”
“Oh, that was before I got to know him.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Are you telling me that your rule that all pro sports players are self-satisfied jerks doesn’t apply to him?”
I scrunch up my nose. “I guess I was a little hasty in my judgment on that.”
“I’m really pleased to hear that, babe. Braydon did a lot damage.”
I cast my eyes down as the memory of what Braydon did to me stings. “Yeah. He did.” I look up at her and let out a puff of air. “Was I that transparent that I judged all jocks by his behavior?”
“Only to me, babe,” she replies with a kind smile. “And you know what? This is a good thing. Now you can date Nick and have some fun.”
“Fake date him, you mean.”
“Yeah, sure.” Her eyes are lit with mischief. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Not in that way. We’re friends, that’s all. And he’s really sweet. He’s told me I need to get serious about my fashion design goals, hence the website. He’s got his own business, you see, so he knows about these things.”
“Smart and pretty, huh? You sure you don’t like like him?”
I shake my head in exasperation. “Just because he’s got half the female population in love with him doesn’t mean I have any feelings for him.”
“You sure about that? You two do get along really well.”
“Darce, a lot of that was playacting. We’re in a fake relationship, but Alex and Jason don’t know that, so we had to act as though we were together. That is all. Period.”
“It was pretty convincing if you ask me.”
“Darcy, I can tell you right now,” I say firmly. “I have absolutely no plans to fall for Nick Zachary. Not now while we’re fake dating, and not ever.”
Chapter 11
I spent half the night working on my website,
and although I’m still waiting for the site Darcy recommended to come back to me with my final logo, it has really begun to take shape, and I am super excited about it. Having a website is a step closer to my dream of becoming a fashion designer. Somehow, it makes a career in fashion feel so much more real, like it’s finally within my reach.
I’m tired but buzzing when I meet Nick for one of our scheduled meetings the following day.
“I like this place,” Nick says as he takes in the welcoming sight of my favorite café. “And it is right next door to that high tea place you took me to as well.” He narrows his gaze. “Is this some kind of conspiracy?”
“Absolutely. I’m trying to indoctrinate you into my way of life, and that includes indulging in a slice of one of Cozy Cottage Café’s amazing cakes.”
“Does Sophie manage this place, too?”
“No. She manages Cozy Cottage High Tea next door. Bailey and Paige manage the café, but they own both.”
“Well, that’s as clear as mud.”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it? All you need to know is that the women here are awesome and the food is great.”
He leans down and peers into the food cabinet. “Let me see. They’ve got chocolate and raspberry, apple streusel, carrot cake, and something I’m not going to even try to pronounce.”
“That’s Cassata alla Siciliana,” Paige, one of the owners, replies from over the top of the cabinet. “It’s a sponge cake layered with sweet and zesty ricotta cheese.”
I grin at her. “Hey, Paige. How’s life?”
“Busy,” she replies with a smile, her dark hair scooped up into a ponytail, her pretty eyes sparkling. “Being a new mom is amazing, but oh-so tiring. All I can say is thank goodness for Sophie managing High Tea so I don’t even have to think about it.”
“As I told you, Bailey and Paige run the café,” I say to Nick, “and as you know, Sophie runs High Tea next door.”
“The cake mafia, huh?”
Paige laughs. “I’d not thought of it that way, but I guess we are a little.”
“Paige, this is Nick.”
“Great to meet you, Paige. Nice place you got here.” Nick reaches his long arm over the top of the counter, and Paige shakes it. It’s awkward but sweet of him. I smile to myself. My fake boyfriend is nothing if not sweet.
No More Horrible Dates Page 11