Page 15 of Breakaway Hearts
“Safe words?”
The server comes back around, and Callie blushes when he looks at her oddly.
“Does everything taste alright?” he asks.
“Yup.” I grin. “Mygirlfriendloves it.”
Callie shakes her head and rolls her eyes when the kid walks away. “You’re ridiculous.”
I shrug. “What? Youaremy girlfriend—as far as he knows, anyway.”
“Safe words,” she continues pointedly, getting me back on track. She jots down several notes on the piece of paper. “Mine is umbrella.”
“Got it. Mine will be… dachshund.”
“Random.” She chuckles and writes it all down, finishing with a flourish of her pen. “Look at us. Seems like we have a semi-workable game plan. Should we put a time limit on it? Or are we pushing toward a result without a specific timeline?”
“You sound like a real professional, damn.” She gives me a look, and I try to hide my grin. “I hope we don’t have to do this for very long. But I’m honestly not sure. Once Sienna realizes what she’s missing, once she sees us together and comes to her senses, I think she’ll want me back. Hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” Callie repeats softly, twirling her pen between her fingers.
I soften a bit in the shoulders and push the rest of the milkshake toward her. “Thank you,” I say sincerely.
She shrugs. “Standard best friend stuff. I’d do it for anyone.”
“I’m serious.”
She smiles and puts the straw to her lips, tapping her foot against mine beneath the table. “Anything for you, Sutton.”
My heart thuds somewhere between my chest and my ears.
This is it. We’re really doing this.
Chapter5
Callie
I stare at the wall in the teachers’ lounge, twirling a Twizzler around in my mouth as I try to ignore the raging butterflies flapping around in my stomach.
It’s Monday, and the Aces have a game tonight.
It will be the first time I’ll be publicly masquerading as Reese’s girlfriend. The first test of our fake relationship.
This is crazy. What was I thinking? Fake girlfriend? PDA? I’ve been to plenty of Aces games, but never like this. I’ve even worn a jersey with Reese’s number before, but not his personal jersey. Not one that he keeps at home. God.
I feel like I’m gonna be sick.
“You okay, Callie? What are you thinking about?”
I just about choke on my Twizzler at the sound of Peg’s voice. The older teacher laughs and takes a seat next to me on the couch.
Peg is a sweet woman, in her early sixties, with a shock of white hair on her head. Her wrinkles are minimal, and despite my best efforts, I’ve been unable to wrangle her skin care routine from her. The only thing she’s been pushing to give me is her rigorous workout routine, a not-so-subtle drag at my weight, but I’ve told her time and time again that I love my body. I love the soft curves of my stomach, the plump apples of my cheeks, and the thick, sexy outline of my breasts, butt, and thighs.
She’s from a different generation, I know, so I don’t push it too much. Just enough that she only offers a free pass to her yoga class once a week instead of every other day.
“Sorry,” I say, leaning back against the couch cushions. “I was zoning out.”
“I could tell. You were so far gone.” She chuckles, leaning forward to steal a Twizzler from my bag on the table. They’re my favorite snack, and I always have a bag stashed in the teachers’ lounge. “Got a hot date tonight?”