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Her back is to me as she locks the door and calls goodbye to Mr. Eds. “Be a good monster. And leave my curtains alone, please. I’m not into the shredded look.”
When she turns and finally sees me, Parker jumps. “Logan! Why are you lurking out here?”
“Lurking? And here I thought I was being a gentleman, waiting to offer you a ride to work.”
“Oh,” she says, smiling shyly.
“Ohas in, sure, I’d love a ride to cut down on my carbon footprint while enjoying some fantastic company? Orohas in, you’d rather be lonely and waste gas by driving yourself like you’ve been doing?”
Parker laughs. “When you put it that way, I don’t have much choice.”
I offer her my arm, and after giving me a look I can’t quite interpret, she takes it and we head downstairs. Maple Street is a lot quieter in the mornings, and I can’t help but think back to our date. For a guy who hasn’t done this relationship thing before, I feel like I’m acing it.
Parker must be thinking about the date too, because she smiles over at me and says, “Thanks again for dinner and everything.”
“Best date I’ve ever had,” I tell her honestly.
But she laughs. “Bestfakedate, you mean?”
Okay, so she’s still going to keep lobbing that wordfakeat me. I guess if I’m not going to tell her it’s real for me, I shouldn’t be surprised. And I can’t be mad. Still—it burns.
While I was trying to sleep last night, which looked a lot like staring at my ceiling trying not to think about Parker on the other side of the wall, I debated on whether I should go over there and tell her how I feel.
That I don’t want to fake date her as some move for my career.
I want to really date her because I reallywantto.
But I’m not quite brave enough to broach the subject. Yet. For now, I’ll keep on using the guise of fake dating to show Parker how I feel.
Like right now.
“No. Best date.”
“Shut up,” Parker says, but when I say nothing else, she furrows her brow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“What about my dad’s birthday thing?”
“Every date with you gets better, Pete.”
I steer us toward Cataloochee Mountain Coffee, where I’ve got a surprise waiting.
“Oh, good,” Parker says. “I usually stop in on the way to work.”
I wink. “I know.”
Inside, Heather looks up and waves. “Give me just a second,” she says from her spot behind the espresso machine. After wiping her hands on her apron, she sets a paper bag and a drink caddy with two cups on the counter. “All set.”
“Thank you,” I tell Heather as Parker stares at me.
“You ordered ahead?” she asks as I hand her the bag. It contains two apple cider donuts. When I called, Heather said they were Parker’s favorite.
“I did.”
“But …”
“Nope. No buts. Eat your donut, Pete.”
