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“No. It’s different for everyone. And…you’re not there yet. You’re…”
“Unfuckable?” The word slips before I can stop it. But I'm so offended that I don't even care.
“What? No.”
“Pepper seems to think we’d be perfect for each other.”
“How’s that?”
“Not sure,” I snap. “When I go out with him, I’ll let you know.”
He chuckles. “Is this between you and Pepper or is he in on it too?”
“He’s in on it,” I say with a snarl, and I sound like a schoolgirl who's been accused of having an imaginary boyfriend.
I don’t know if I’m angrier at myself for making shit up as I go along or for him finding this funny.
“He doesn’t know anything about you,” he argues.
“Good. It’s a fresh start.”
He pauses and sits back. “Is that what you want? Is that why you’re leaving?”
I glance at the waitstaff inside the restaurant. “He doesn’t see me as a cheater.”
Fiona approaches our table with a delicious-smelling apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream. “Dessert?”
He keeps his eyes on me and hands her his card. “Looks great. Thank you.”
She walks off and Noah leans across the table. “For the record, I never did either.”
16
Not Ready."
It’s been two days since my dinner date with Noah and I have been a raging inferno since we left the restaurant.
How dare he suggest I’m not ready to go on a simple fucking date?
A date that is not happening, but he doesn’t know that.
I mastered the silent treatment all weekend. Which is hard to do. Especially hard when I came home Friday night to find brand new lavender sheets and pillowcases on his king-sized bed.
I thanked him dryly and retreated to my room for the remainder of the weekend. Only stepping out for nourishment and fresh air.
The most Noah and I spoke was when he asked to borrow my car for a quick errand this morning.
On the bright side, I was able to finalize a lot of wedding details and have a list prepared to run through with Pepper when I see her later.
It’s Sunday, the night of Chase and Pepper's post-season party. The same one I originally said no to, but after Noah basically told me I’m undatable, what’s a girl to do but put on her hottest outfit and own it like the slut everyone thinks she is.
Everyone but Noah, obviously.
“Because you can’t be a slut if you’re not ready to have sex,” I mutter out loud as I slip on a sleeveless black dress and a pair of pumps.
Pepper threatened that if I come in a cardigan or purple striped socks, she’s making me change into her Ice Queen uniform.
I toss my phone and mints into my purse and search for my car keys before remembering Noah has them.
