A Not So Meet Cute(70)

Giving it some thought, I finally ask, “Dream concert to attend?”

“Dead or alive?”

“Both,” I answer.

“If I could resurrect Freddie Mercury, I’d pretty much give my soul to do so. To see him live, to watch him perform . . . God, it would be the ultimate dream. But to watch alive . . . hmm, right now . . . probably Fleetwood Mac.”

Surprised, I say, “I was not expecting that answer. From everything you’ve said, I would’ve thought you were going to say Foreigner.”

“I mean, they are on top of the list, but I’m obsessed with Stevie Nicks, and the new collabs she did with Miley Cyrus . . . ooo, so good. And they’re just chill music, you know? You can listen to them on a rainy day or when you’re at the beach. And ‘Dreams’ . . .” A smile crosses her face. “I think it would be the perfect make-out song. The tempo, the feel of it. It’s so good. Are you a fan of Fleetwood Mac?”

I nod. “I am. I’ll play them while working sometimes.”

She holds up her hand in surprise. “You listen to music while you’re working?”

“Every day.”

“Wow.” She pushes my shoulder. “See? This is what I needed. To see you act like a human.” She lets out a deep breath. “I feel better.” She picks up her spoon and digs back into her soup.

“You feel better? Just like that?”

“Yup. You should know, Huxley, I’m pretty easy.”

“Yeah . . . found that out last night.”

“And would you look at that—he jokes too. Amazing.”





Chapter Fourteen





LOTTIE





I check my watch to see what time it is. A little past one. We ate lunch early today because Kelsey had a meeting with a potential client at one thirty. I’ve been working on the website for the past hour and a half and I need to take a breather.

Leaning back in the uncomfortable dining chair—we’re going to need an office space at some point, rather than Kelsey’s small studio apartment—I pick up my phone and open my text thread with Huxley.

Yesterday was a roller coaster. One minute I’m impressed with the man in how he kept his promise and set up another meeting for Kelsey, not to mention finding out how he cared for his employees, defying the negative image of him I had in my head. Next, he has me going to some creepy pregnancy class that put me far outside of my comfort zone. It didn’t help that he couldn’t just be fun in the moment. That was the worst part of it—if he’d been laughing with me through the awkward encounter, it would’ve been a moment to remember, but he was like a robot, and it made it that much worse. And then we ran into Angela.

God, could she be any worse of a human?

I despise her.

The nerve she had to say, let’s work something out, when she saw I was dating Huxley Cane—fake dating, I know, but still. She’s been showing her true colors lately. But what was even worse than running into her was the way Huxley reacted.

He was protective.

He defended me.

He took hold of the situation.

This man that I’d despised for the past week or so suddenly came through for me, without me even asking. I don’t think I’d ever been more confused.

He was just . . . there. Holding my hand, making sure I was all right.

But while we were in the car, he turned back into a robot.

Stiff set to his shoulders, tight grip on the steering wheel. He shut me out in the blink of an eye.

And I have no idea why.

Now, that robot persona carried over into dinner. I couldn’t take it anymore; I was fed up and almost walked out.

Like the mercurial man he is, he dipped and showed that generous personality again, the one I saw while we were at Chipotle.

And he offered me two questions a day and night, something I wasn’t expecting either. I’m not sure he thought I was serious about asking them, but I am. It’ll make things so much easier if I actually get to know this man. I’ll feel more comfortable and, like Kelsey said, maybe I can make things more believable between us.

I send him a text.

Lottie: What are you listening to right now?

When I see the dots appear next to his name, I’m surprised.

Huxley: “The Chain”—Fleetwood Mac. You put me in the mood yesterday. Been listening to them all day.

I smile to myself and text him back.

Lottie: Me too. Just got done singing my heart out to “Rhiannon.” My computer mouse was my microphone and I used the flashlight on my phone for mood lighting. Did you do the same?

Huxley: No.

Lottie: Baby steps, I guess. Go ahead, ask me one of your daytime questions.

Huxley: Is that what’s happening right now?

Lottie: Yes, you said I get two questions during the day, two at night. So . . . go ahead.

Huxley: Craziest thing you ever did in college?

Lottie: Throwback question. Okay, uh . . . well, I wasn’t really crazy in college. I know it seems as though I might have stories to tell, but I really don’t have many, just one claim to party fame.

Huxley: What is it?

Lottie: There was this bar we went to a lot, the Chicken Leg. It was a hole in the wall. They accepted any form of ID, and they had some of the best music ever played, and when I say best music, I think you know what I’m talking about. Old school rock. They had a lip-sync wet T-shirt contest one night. Prize was one thousand dollars.