This was so fucked up.
So. Fucked. Up.
It didn’t matter what I wore. I was going to meet these people twice. None of them cared what I wore. None of them even needed to like me by the end of the weekend.
So why did I care?
Were Tina and Madi right? Was it because I had a crush on Mason?
Oh, my God.
They were.
I did.
I had a crush on Mason.
My cheeks burned, and I clapped my hands over them. Like that would stop it happening. I was mortified at myself and the fact it’d taken me so long to figure that out.
Of course I had a crush on him! He was handsome. I was attracted to him. He made me laugh. And I had to pretend to be his girlfriend… After setting boundaries that he wasn’t allowed to kiss me.
Breaking news: Lauren Green was a Class A moron.
Probably not breaking news to my friends who had, apparently, figured this out before me.
How had I not even noticed? Was I so focused on faking everything that I was ignoring my very real vagina tingles toward him?
I was.
I was a terrible excuse for a fake girlfriend.
Sweet baby Jesus, this whole thing was going to Hell in a handbasket, and nobody was navigating it.
Now, I had to pretend like I didn’t want to make out with him like a couple of teenagers.
Great.
There was so much fakery going on even a reality show would be embarrassed to air this.
Oh, come on. Everyone knows reality shows aren’t actually real.
Three loud knocks sounded at my front door.
“Shit!” I was still standing in my underwear with my hands on my cheeks. I was officially out of time. Mason was here, and I was panicking in the middle of my room like standing here and doing nothing would solve all my problems.
Spoiler alert, it would not.
Two more knocks.
“Hold on!” I yelled as loud as I could and grabbed the nearest dress to me, which happened to be the pink one.
The one with a zip on the back.
I didn’t have time to tie a string around the zipper to pull it up, so I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I yanked the dress up my body, pulled the zip up as far as I could, and ran to the front door, holding the fabric over my bra.
Which I still had to take the straps off.
Oh, my God.
This was a nightmare. I would be mad, but it was entirely of my own making.
Apparently, organization and decision-making were not my strong suits.
I opened the door, clutching tightly at the top of the dress. “Hi,” I said breathlessly.
Mason dropped his eyes to where I was holding my dress. “Problem?”
“Yes. The person who thought of putting a zipper on the back of a dress was either a sadist, a contortionist, or a man.”
“Probably a man.” He was trying not to laugh as he stepped inside. “Turn around. I’ll zip you up.”
I blew out a breath and swept my hair to the side so he could. His fingers brushed up my spine as he dragged the zipper pull up to the top, and the warmth of his breath tickled across my shoulder before he stepped away.
“Done,” he said in a low voice.
I swallowed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” It was a little gruff, and he cleared his throat as he stepped back. “Is that the dress you wore to the reunion?”
Pausing, I looked over my shoulder. “Yes. Why?”
He shrugged. “Just wondering. It looks good.”
My cheeks flushed. “Thanks. Give me a second, and I’ll be ready. Did you already pick up your aunt?”
“No, but she’s called five times.”
“Am I running that late?”
“No. I’m ten minutes early. She probably wants me to smuggle in tequila so she doesn’t have to pay the restaurant prices,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s why I’m ignoring her.”
I laughed and turned. “Give me two minutes. I swear I’m nearly ready.”
“Don’t rush.” He smiled and sat down, leaving me to run into my room and finish getting ready.
I ran the brush through my hair and swept on some pink lipstick before I headed back out into the living room with my purse. “I’m ready.”
Mason looked up from where he was petting Henry on the sofa with a smile. “You look beautiful.”
Another blush.
Damn it.
“Thank you.” I coughed and looked away from him. “Shall we go?”
“Yep.” He gave Henry one last scratch under the chin that I caught out of the corner of my eye. “Hey, do you have any tequila?”
I stopped at the front door. “I thought you were trying to ignore your aunt.”
“Yeah, because I’m not buying her an entire bottle of tequila. She’s already plotting a group line dance for Saturday night. She doesn’t need to bring that shit to Thursday night, too. If you have some, I can ration her.”