Page 73 of Hate to Love You
“Fake girlfriend,” I correct because it feels like I should. Not necessarily because I want to point it out. Maybe I’m trying to remind myself of it. Who knows? It’s my birthday, I’m not going to think about it tonight.
Brody holds the glass door open as we make our way to the hostess station located inside the restaurant.
“Hi. I have a reservation under McKinnon,” he says, flashing his trademark smile at the girl working behind the desk.
Her eyes widen as she drinks him in like a tall glass of lemonade on a scorching hot August afternoon. Not once does her gaze deviate from him. I’m tempted to roll my eyes. His effect on the opposite sex is ridiculous. I’ve never seen anything like it.
No wonder he’s slept with so many women. All it takes is one look aimed in their direction—one flash of his dimples—and they’re putty in his hands, willing to do whatever he wants.
Thank goodness, I’ve never felt that way about him. I’d be in so much trouble if I actually gave a damn about this guy.
She perks up at the last name. You can almost see the lightbulb going off in her head. Although I’m not going to lie, the wattage seems dim. Okay, now I’m just getting bitchy.
“Oh my God, your Brody McKinnon!” she gasps. “You play defense for Whitmore!” She leans across the desk, looking as though she might crawl over it to reach him. “I’m your biggest fan! I was at every single home game last season and all of your preseason scrimmages this fall!” Her hand flutters to her heart. “You are so completely amazing!”
Brody takes a small step back but keeps the smile firmly in place. “Thanks. We always appreciate our fans coming out to support us.”
Her smile grows impossibly wide as she bounces on the tips of her toes like an overexcited child. “Would you mind signing this menu for me? Then we can hang it on the wall.” She gives him a sly look from beneath her lashes. “Or maybe I’ll take it home and hang it on my bedroom wall.”
My brows skyrocket across my forehead. I don’t even want to think about what she’ll be doing while staring at that menu. Ewwww.
“Sure, no problem,” Brody says, looking like he doesn’t mind at all.
She opens a drawer and hands him a black Sharpie. Hostess-With-the-Mostest looks completely starstruck as Brody scribbles his name across the plastic.
“Feel free to write your number on there,” she adds huskily.
And he does. I feel like I’ve been slapped as he scrawls something across the bottom.
I look away and fight back the sting of hurt and jealousy blooming throughout my body. In all honesty, I have no right to feel this way where Brody is concerned. We’re not together. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re friends. Sort of.
I shouldn’t be surprised by this. The hostess is cute. Actually, she’s more hot than cute. She has raven hair and gray eyes. And a curvy body. This is exactly the kind of girl I’d expect him to be with. Someone with big boobs, tight clothing, and a highly excitable personality.
Unwilling to have a front-seat view of her shameless flirting, I take a step back, away from them. Letting Brody talk me into going out tonight now feels like a mistake. I just want to go home and dive headfirst into that carton of ice cream that’s sitting in my freezer. The happiness that had zipped through me on the ride over feels like a distant memory.
I keep my gaze focused on them, forcing myself to watch the interaction. If anything can kill the budding attraction I feel for Brody, it’s him flirting with this girl right in front of my face.
Hostess-With-the-Mostest is all giddiness and smiles until she peers more closely at the menu. As she stares, her brows beetle together in confusion before she glances up again.
“Oh, I meant your other num—”
“Yeah,” Brody says, his voice hardening. The easiness that had threaded its way through his tone earlier is now long gone. “I know what you meant.”
His smile is strictly polite as he slips an arm around me. “We’re here for my girlfriend’s birthday.”
For the first time since I’ve been standing at his side, her eyes swivel to me. Color floods her cheeks as she snaps to attention. “Oh, of course! Let me show you to your table.” She grabs two menus from the holder. “Right this way.”
Brody glances at me as we follow her into the restaurant. Sorry, he mouths behind her back.
I shrug, pretending that what happened doesn’t bother me in the least. But it does. My gut is still burning. I can lie all I want to him, but I can’t deny my feelings to myself.
Watching other girls flirt with Brody is maddening.
When did that change? For three years, I’ve watched girls fawn all over him and never felt this way.
My mind spins as we walk through the main dining room. When I was younger, this was our go-to place to eat. The food is delicious, and it’s always crowded. So, I’m not surprised to see all the tables filled and servers rushing around with trays of food and drinks.
As much as I hate to admit it, what just happened a few minutes ago has brought my relationship with Brody into sharp focus. I’m not going to dwell on the ramifications right now. I’m going to enjoy dinner. But later, when I’m alone, I need to think about what’s going on between us. Obviously, feelings are coming into play. And that, I can’t allow.