The Accidental Girlfriend

LAUREN: Yes. You. Several times. Are you sure you’re not seventy-eight with that memory loss?

MASON: You’re feisty tonight.

LAUREN: I’m feisty every night. I think I was a redhead in another life.

LAUREN: Or an English king. Those guys were feisty AF.

MASON: They also pretty much tried to take over the world in a murderous rage.

LAUREN: Wow. I’m really not as mysterious as I thought. Can’t you leave some secrets between us? To keep the magic alive?

MASON: Sorry. I’ll pretend I don’t know about your secret plans for world domination.

LAUREN: Thank you.

LAUREN: I have to get back to work. Keep that a secret and I’ll see that my fleet of white tigers make sure they know you’re not dinner.

MASON: You’re so generous, Your Majesty.

Her final response was a series of winking emojis with their tongues out, and I burst into laughter. In fact, I’d laughed so fucking hard the entire time I’d basically done an abs workout.

And my pizza was cold.

Goddamn it. The woman was a distraction. A fucking hilarious, beautiful distraction.

I was in so, so much trouble with her. There was no use denying it. She was a little ball of quirkiness in a sarcastic, playful bow. I had no idea where she came up with the shit that came out of her mouth, but I didn’t think we’d had a single conversation where she hadn’t made me laugh.

I didn’t let pizza go cold for just anyone.

I hadn’t even realized it was going cold.

I’d just sat down and replied to her, and now, here I was, thirty minutes later, with a cold fucking pizza.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I needed a miracle if I was going to get through this unscathed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN – LAUREN

“Help me out, you jerks!” I shook my phone as if to make my point.

Tina leaned forward on the screen. “Are you wearing your good bra?”

Madi did the same, and I got an unfortunate look up her nostrils. “That’s the good bra! I thought you weren’t being physical with him?”

I scowled. “I’m not. Can’t a girl wear a good bra on a fake date with her fake boyfriend?”

“I don’t know. Are there rules on fake boyfriends?”

Tina shrugged. “Never needed to know. Anyone want me to Google?”

“This is ridiculous. Do not Google it.” I shook my head and propped my phone up on my dresser so they could still see me but I had my hands free. “Look. Black dress with the twirly skirt, or the pink dress I wore to his reunion.”

Madi wrinkled her face up. “The pink looks great on you, but won’t he think you don’t have another dress?”

“Do guys even notice that?” Tina asked, cocking her head. “Honestly, when I dated that guy, Keiron, I wore the same dress on our first and third date by accident and he didn’t notice.”

“That’s because it was the blue dress that shows off your boobs,” Madi replied. “None of Lauren’s dresses show off her boobs.”

I scowled. “We’re not dissecting my wardrobe and what it does and doesn’t show. Which. Dress?”

“Oooh, you’re testy tonight. The pink one.”

Tina nodded. “I agree. The pink does look really good on you.”

I sighed. “I know. But, Teen, the only reason Keiron didn’t notice about the dress is because he was a fuckboy. Mason isn’t a fuckboy.”

“And you base that on, what? One date and a chat in your bar?” Madi asked.

“No. I base it on one date, a chat in my bar, lunch, and an hour at my apartment, plus a bunch of text chats.”

“You’re spending a lot of time talking for people who are fake dating.”

She was not wrong.

We were.

I didn’t quite know how I felt about it, to be honest. We had to have a certain ease with each other so that his parents would believe we were actually dating, but it was… too easy.

Like binge-watching an entire season of your favorite show for the fiftieth time.

Easy. Comfortable. Natural.

I was terrified.

I was probably the only woman I knew who didn’t have a type. Dark hair, light hair, no hair—tall, not so tall, muscular, lean, whatever. All I cared about was that someone could make me laugh.

Anyone who could handle my weird sense of humor and make me laugh was a winner in my book.

AKA, that was Mason.

Which meant Mason was a problem.

A tall, dark, sexy problem.

“Listen, jerks,” I said, waggling my finger at my phone camera. “We’re not talking about that. He’s going to be here any minute, and I don’t have anything to wear!”

Tina rolled her eyes. “You have plenty to wear; you’re just not wearing it.”

Madi nodded. “Go with the pink. It’s your color. It’s the dress you feel most confident in!”

“And you need to be confident when you meet your fake boyfriend’s family, especially since you’re crushing hard on him.”

“So hard.”

“We’re done here. You can both fuck off. You’re not helping at all.” I hung up, but not before the sound of them both laughing filled my room. My phone beeped as the call disconnected, and I groaned, dropping back onto my bed.