Chapter Three
Luke
Gorgeous was the first word that came to mind when I thought of Meg. Uptight came in at a close second. She strode into Maebelle’s, hips swaying, scowling as if she was angry at the world. More than likely she was just angry with me.
“You’re late. And your malt is melting.” I slid my paperback into my backpack but not before she caught a glimpse of the title.
“The Handmaid’s Tale? Sounds scintillating. Or more like the sort of book a guy who creeps around in the bushes would read.” She smirked down at me, refusing to take a seat.
“Or,” I said, smirking back, “it’s the sort of book one is forced to read for AP English. Given your lack of knowledge on the matter, I’m guessing you aren’t cut out for AP classes.”
Her mouth slammed into a frown, and I felt a stab of guilt. Had I offended her? She didn’t seem like the sort of girl to take offense to much of anything. In fact, she seemed like the sort of girl who could hold her own in just about any situation.
I wasn’t sure what was up with the all black, all the time. But she wore it well. Every inch of her, from her amazing red hair, the creamy shoulder peeking out from her sweater, the tight fit of her leather pants, to the sexy boots on her feet.
“What?” she snapped. She finally flopped into the seat across from me.
I pulled my eyes back up to her face. I hadn’t meant to so blatantly check her out.
“I’m just trying to figure you out. You going for an emo look or something?”
She wrinkled her face at me.
“Ninja?”
She gave me an Are you crazy? look.
“Late-night graffiti artist.”
She huffed, “You are really obnoxious.”
“I’ve got it. Hot biker babe?”
Not even a smile, though she did roll her eyes.
“I guess I’m wondering what’s with all the black.”
“And I’m wondering why you think it’s any of your business,” she said coolly.
I’m not gonna lie. Her refusal to warm up to me kind of dented my ego.
“So, this is a joke, right?” Her brown eyes held no amusement.
“Not a joke.” Unfortunately.
“Why would you need someone to pretend to be your girlfriend? Luke Prescott, spoiled rich kid can’t get a girlfriend for real?” Her tone was harsh.
Luke Prescott, spoiled rich kid. She clearly had no idea how offensive that was. But I wasn’t about to tell her. It wasn’t as if I was a Prescott by choice. Very few people knew how much I hated living under the dark shadow cast by my father. My family’s reputation was severely—and deservedly—tarnished because of him. I couldn’t wait for college. Couldn’t wait to get away from him.
“I don’t want a real girlfriend.”
“What if I don’t like boys?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Seriously?” I hadn’t considered that complication. When I’d asked around about her, I hadn’t been able to come up with much. No one seemed to know a thing about her past relationships. “Doesn’t matter,” I decided. “You just have to pretend to like me.”
“Pretend. Right.”
“So you’ll do it?”
She met my gaze. “Hell. No.” And she began to slide out of the booth.
“You’re lucky you’re not eighteen. A pretty girl like you, I don’t think you’d do well in jail.”
She froze at the edge of her seat. The word “jail” had nailed her in place. Her tough act slipped. I saw real fear in her eyes.
“I’ll be seventeen for a while longer,” she said quietly.
“I’ve heard juvie’s not much better.” The statement sounded harsh, but I couldn’t let this girl slip away. She might think I was just messing with her, but the truth was I needed her. And if she couldn’t deal with the consequences, she shouldn’t have been painting the graffiti in the first place.
“You would seriously turn me in?” She looked at me with such disgust I felt my gut twist into a knot.
“Meg, if you would give me a chance, you’ll see I’m not such a bad guy.” It’s not like I wanted to do this. Not really. Lately, almost everything in my life had me feeling like I was backed into a corner. Meg could be my way out.
“Really? ’Cause if that’s the case, you can prove it to me right now. You could say, ‘Hey, Meg. Remember that thing I saw you doing? Let’s forget I tried to blackmail you and let’s both go on our merry ways.’ Because that,” she said, “would definitely make me believe you’re a nice guy. This blackmailing? Not so much. So can we forget this happened?”
Her pleading tone made me cringe. “I can’t let this go.”
“Not can’t…won’t.”
I leaned across the table, and she pushed back in her seat, as if she couldn’t stand to be any closer to me. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?” I growled.
She stared at me in disbelief. “I’m sorry. Should I thank you for blackmailing me?”
“You could thank me for not turning you in. Not only would Mr. Prichard like to know, but while I was in his office I heard mention of cooperating with the police.” I took a sip of my malt, giving her time to think it over.
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” I tamped down a sigh of relief. I didn’t want her to know that this actually meant a lot to me.
“Are you at least going to tell me why?”
I couldn’t blame her for asking. Didn’t mean I had to answer. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business.”
“I’d make a better pretend girlfriend if I knew why I was pretending. Are you trying to make Jaclyn jealous?”
The thought made me cringe. “No. I want the opposite, actually. I broke up with her. She’s having a hard time accepting it.”
Meg motioned for me to go on. I chose my words carefully.
“Her dad works for my dad. Our moms have been friends forever. They’ve practically been grooming us for marriage since we were in diapers,” I explained. “I wouldn’t be surprised if those two have started planning our wedding.”
“That’s kind of disturbing. You’re not even out of high school yet.” She shrugged. “So date someone else. I’m sure you could find someone who is actually interested in you.”
“I don’t want someone who is interested in me. I want you.”
“Why?”
“No one in my circle would dare go out with me right now. Jaclyn would make them miserable. Also, I don’t want to deal with something as time intensive as a real girlfriend. I have too much going on with baseball and school. Plus, I don’t want to lead anyone on. You know?” It was a partial truth, so I didn’t feel too bad.
“So it’s okay for her to make my life hell?”
“She won’t. You know why? Because you don’t care what she thinks. The other girls do. But that’s not really the point of this. What I want is a girl I don’t have to get emotionally involved with.”
“So don’t date anyone.”
It sounded like a rational suggestion. But Meg didn’t know the whole story. And I wasn’t about to tell her.
“As long as Jaclyn thinks I’m single, she won’t let up.”
“Poor baby.”
“Look, she cries to her mommy, who in turn lays it on thick to my mom, who in turn tears me a new one every time I walk into the room. She can’t understand why I won’t get back together with her. Especially since I’m not seeing anyone else.”
The fragment of truth I gave finally looked like it clicked into place. “But if you were seeing someone else, you’d have an excuse. Jaclyn wouldn’t come on so strong. And your mom wouldn’t press you as hard.”
“Exactly.” I waited, clenching my fists at my sides, wondering if the explanation I gave would be enough for her. It would have to be. There was no way I could tell her everything. She would never understand.
“If this is happening, we need rules,” she said.
I relaxed now that her inquisition was over. “Agreed.” I tugged a notebook out of my backpack and slapped it down on the table. A pen was crammed into the spiral binding. I pulled it out.
“All right, Meg,” I started, keeping my tone light. “What are our rules of persuasion?”
She gave me a blank stare. “Our what?”
“How are we going to persuade everyone that this is real?” I tapped the pen against the paper.
“Those weren’t the sort of rules I was talking about. I was thinking more about rules for you,” she clarified.
Rules for me? What did that mean?
She twirled a lock of that fiery-red hair around her finger. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
I decided to start simple. “You eat lunch with me.”
“No. No way.”
“No way?” She looked at me as if I’d asked her to dance on the lunch table. What was so wrong with sitting with me? Did she really think I was that horrible to be around?
“No,” she repeated.
I frowned.
“Look.” She rested her elbows on the table. “I like eating lunch with my friends. Eating with you? It would be awkward. Besides, I would feel like a cling-on. Think of it this way. If I give you some space, your friends will think better of me for it.”
“How so?” I couldn’t see where she was going with this.
“I don’t want your friends, or mine, to think I’m using you to edge into your snobby inner circle. And I like eating lunch with my friends.”
Maybe she had a point. Though I took issue with her use of snobby. “Fine. You don’t have to eat lunch with me.”
“Also, no kissing.”
She had to be joking. How could we date without at least a few kisses? Is that what she meant by making rules for me? “That’s not gonna fly.”
A slightly panicked look landed on her face.
“Hey,” I said lightly, “we need to make this believable. I’m not saying we have to have a full-on make-out session at my locker every morning.” She shivered. In relief? I tried not to take offense and pushed ahead.
“But if the situation arises, it’s going to look suspicious if there isn’t at least a little PDA. Like you said, we come from different circles. My friends, and yours, are going to need some persuading. We’re going to have to work at selling this.”
She blinked at me, those big brown eyes silently pleading.
“Wait.” I studied her face and winced as I read her displeasure. “You have been kissed before, right? Like kissing me wouldn’t be your first time? ’Cause I could see how you would want a first kiss to mean something. If you’ve never kissed anyone, I don’t want to push you into doing something you don’t want to do.”
She frowned. “Of course I’ve been kissed before. But thank you for making me feel like that’s so hard to believe.”
“I don’t find it hard to believe. In fact, I find you very kissable.” I hoped a bit of flirting would soften her up, cause that tough facade of hers to crumble a bit. “In case no one has told you before, you’re really kind of beautiful.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she quickly snapped it shut.
“Moving on.” She tapped my notebook with a pink fingernail. “No embellishing our relationship.”
“Right.” I grinned. “No telling them we’re planning a trip to Vegas to elope.”
She glared at me. “Not funny. You know what I mean.”
“I was teasing. You should try lightening up.” I tapped the pen against the page and wrote down the next rule. “No embellishing our love life.”
“You pay for everything.”
“Done.” Covering our dates was a small price to pay, considering what I had riding on this, if all went according to my plan.
We spent nearly half an hour squabbling over the specifics of our arrangement. Meg had a knack for fighting me every step of the way. When I requested we spend four evenings a week together, she thought one was plenty. We settled on three. I was insistent she meet my parents at some point. She would have to, for this plan to work. She was adamant that we leave hers out of it. I was determined our friends could never learn of our plan. She argued that she had to tell her friends because they’d never believe she was interested in me. Again…ouch. But whatever. If she needed to tell her friends in order for this to work, I really couldn’t argue too much.
“Anything else?” I asked.
She looked longingly at her empty malt glass. I was glad I’d ordered her one. At least I’d done something right.
“Nothing I can think of right now.” She glanced at my notebook. The first hint of a smile appeared. “You condensed our entire conversation down to two rules? How typical of a guy to cut out the fluff and get to the point.”
“Well, yeah. Why bother with…fluff?” I didn’t see the need to complicate matters.
The rules were simple enough:
I flipped the notebook shut and wrangled it into my backpack. “I guess we’re done here.”
“Finally.” Her smile evaporated again. “I guess I’ll see you later.” She slid out of the booth, not waiting for a good-bye.
I yanked a few bills out of my wallet and tossed them on the table to cover the malts with plenty left for a tip. Grabbing my backpack, I darted out of the restaurant.
I didn’t need girls to be falling at my feet. But I wasn’t used to them acting as if I wasn’t worth their time. Meg’s indifference rattled me. As I watched her head to her Rebel—as if she couldn’t get away from me fast enough—I felt the urge to rattle her right back.
“Meg!”
She twisted around slowly.
I sauntered up to her until there were only inches between us. To her credit, she didn’t back down.
“I thought we were done,” she said. Was it my imagination, or did she sound slightly breathless?
“Not quite.”
She cleared her throat and took a step back. I reached for her hands, tangling my fingers around hers as I reeled her back in. “We forgot to seal the deal.”
“Seal the deal?”
“Seal it with a kiss.” I shrugged. “You’re going to have to kiss me eventually. Personally, I’d rather have our first time be without an audience. Wouldn’t you?”
She winced, clearly knowing that I was right.
“I guess it would be best to get the awkwardness out of the way,” she grumbled.
I decided not to focus on the fact that she sounded less than thrilled. Instead, I took it as a good sign that she didn’t elbow me in the gut and storm away.
I moved in slowly, not convinced she wouldn’t bolt. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her hands slid up my arms, clutching at my biceps. When her lips met mine I swear something ignited between us. My hands gripped her waist and as the kiss lingered, the tension melted away.
She had acted so cold toward me, the last thing I expected was for the kiss to be so hot.