I want to say yes, of course I do, but for as excited as I thought I’d be when, and if, Adam ever asked me out, I’m so thrown and torn about how my very real feelings might complicate the situation, that I’m quiet for several moments. Will I be more disappointed if I go on a fake date with him or if he takes someone else? The answer to that is a no-brainer. “What would I say if they asked about us?”
“It won’t be like that. No interrogations, just free drinks and mingling. I’ll handle any questions that might come up, and as a bonus, I get to be the guy with the hottest date.”
“Now you’re just buttering me up.”
“Is it working?” His grin is boyish and charming. Like I could ever say no to him.
“Yes. Okay. I’m in.”
Seize the freaking day.
6
Reagan
Cancer—it’s better to leave the party early than to be the last one standing. Walk away and leave them wanting more.
The mixer is held in the back room of Araceli’s. The restaurant sits up in the foothills and the scenery from the wall of windows along the room is breathtaking. So is my date.
Adam’s wearing a classic black suit, and the combination of the suit with his longer hair is really working for me. It’s definitely an added benefit of going on this fake date. He’s serious arm candy, and tonight he’s mine.
The event itself is amazing too. These doctors know how to do it up right. Small, high-top tables are set up all over the room. There’s a bar on one side and a buffet on the other. It’s all so classy, so elegant, so rich.
I on the other hand am a mess. Sure, I look good—several hours of primping guaranteed that—but I’m so nervous that my hand shakes as I accept a drink from the bartender.
I have to tell Adam tonight. I should have told him last night before agreeing to come, but I couldn’t force the words out of my mouth. And a night out with Adam was too good to turn down. So tonight is the night. For real this time.
“Okay, now what?” I ask as we make our way to the center of the room. “How do you want to play this? Casual date? Serious date?”
He places a hand at my lower back. “Relax.”
His touch pretty much guarantees that isn’t possible. “I need to know my part.”
If I don’t turn on Stage Reagan soon, I’ll be this bumbling, anxious girl all night and I am not going to spend the evening with the guy I’ve crushed on for two years being shy and unsure.
He ducks his head and speaks quietly so only I can hear, “Just be you. Beautiful, talented Reagan.”
“You went to a lot of trouble to bring a date for this event for me to be myself.”
“It’s possible that appearing to be in a serious relationship will help my chances, but that’s a long shot and I don’t expect you to pretend to be in a relationship with me.”
“I insist. Otherwise, I might as well duck out of here and leave you to fend for yourself.”
“Please don’t do that. I need at least one friend in my corner tonight.”
“Then let me be both—your kick-ass friend who is also pretending to be in a serious relationship with you.” If I can be anything but what I am, a girl on a fake date with her real crush, then this night will be a lot easier to get through.
He looks uneasy, but a man steps to us and says hello to Adam, and then I’m on.
“Professor Picke, this is Reagan.” Adam places a hand at my elbow to bring me into the conversation.
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” I shake his hand.
He smiles and nods, but his attention goes back to Adam. “Big game Saturday night.”
“Yes, sir. We’re ready.”
“Good, good.” He slaps Adam on the back. “Congratulations on the scholarship.”
“It isn’t mine yet,” Adam says. “But here’s hoping.”
“You’re a bright young man.” The way he says it makes the whole thing seem so insignificant, but I know this is important to Adam.
Speaking of, my date seems uncomfortable with all the praise. Adam’s hand goes in his pocket and his gaze falls to the floor every so often. Especially when Professor Picke starts talking hockey again. Interesting. I guess his discomfort with attention isn’t just with eager girls trying to catch his eye.
I finish my drink and then hold it up. Adam notices. Of course, he does. He’s a very good date. “Well, looks like my date needs a refill.”
“Yes, yes of course. See you in class tomorrow.”
“Thank you for that.” Adam dips his head to whisper as we walk away.
“You’re welcome, but I think I need to get water if I’m going to have to slam drinks to get us out of any more conversations.”
“Let’s hope that isn’t necessary. I need to convince these people I’m the right person for the scholarship, not chat about the season.”
“I’ve got you,” I say. I order a water from the bartender and we hang off to one side. “Who’s our next target?”
He chuckles. “Take your pick. I need to talk to pretty much everyone in this room.”
Wow. This might be a long night which I don’t mind, but I feel a little bad for him. “How about the woman on the far left? Gray updo, gray dress, standing by herself.”
“Dr. Hunt.”
“Is she a professor?”
“She teaches biology. I’ve taken a few of her classes.”
“She has great taste in shoes. Love the red pumps. Has she ever asked you about hockey?”
He smiles. “No.”
“Great. Let’s go say hi.” I link my arm through his and do my best to ignore the shock of electricity zipping up my side.
Dr. Hunt smiles as Adam and I draw near. “Mr. Scott. Good to see you.”
“You too, Dr. Hunt. This is Reagan.”
“Hi,” I say and extend my hand. “I love your shoes.”
“Oh.” She looks down after shaking my hand. “Thank you. I didn’t realize that students were invited tonight as well.”
Adam’s throat works as if he’s thinking about what to say.
“Only the two scholarship nominees,” I say proudly.
“Right, right. Of course.” Dr. Hunt smiles. “You’ve made it very hard for us to choose this year. It isn’t often we have two candidates so equally deserving.”
“Thank you.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other.
Her gaze flits back to me and narrows. “You look familiar. Are you premed too?”
“Oh gosh, no.” I laugh. “I’m a theater major.”
Her face lights up. “That’s where I know you. The Christmas play was beautiful. You looked like a real angel up there.”
“Thank you so much.”
Adam grins down at me. “Reagan’s ridiculously talented.”
My face warms.
“It was wonderful to meet you, Reagan. Adam, good to see you again. I’m afraid I have to make my apologies. My husband is beckoning from across the room.” She points and Adam and I swivel to find him. He’s staring in our direction but otherwise, I can’t make out any cry for help. He’s standing slightly outside a large group of men, with a drink in hand. By all outward appearances, he seems to be okay. Maybe a little bored.