Rock Bottom Girl(84)



“I got some Lebanon bologna, too. Other than that, your only choice is some kind of furry Chinese takeout that’s so old I don’t remember ordering it.”

“I’ll stick with the Os and the bologna.”

“A wise choice. We can eat on the couch,” he said, pushing one of the bowls toward me.

We dined on childhood favorites on his couch while watching reruns of Cheers and Parks and Rec on his gigantic flat screen.

“So how am I doing so far with this dating thing?” he asked, taking my empty bowl and adding it to his on the coffee table. I guessed they’d sit there for a week or two.

Oh, right. We weren’t actually dating. I was just grooming him to date someone else. He’d be coaxing orgasms out of a new woman and making her canned food by Valentine’s Day, I predicted.

I ordered the canned pasta to stay in my stomach and not projectile vomit across the room.

I cleared my throat. “Good.” Great.

Homer trotted in and shoved his head in my lap.

“You’re in his spot,” Jake explained and slid me a couple of inches closer to him. Homer hopped up onto the couch, circled the cushion, and flopped down with a heavy sigh.

“You’re doing great,” I admitted. Eh. I’d worry about the stickiness of our consummated fake relationship later. I snuggled up against his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

He pulled a throw off the back of the couch and handed it to me.

“I think I’m ready to meet your parents,” he said while I was busy spreading the blanket out.

“You already have,” I pointed out, baffled.

“No, I mean like dinner and talking. Not just picking you up and being charming for five seconds.”

Okay, it was one thing for me to get a little wrapped up in our arrangement. But I didn’t want my parents falling for the guy only to have us fake break up right before I left town.

“Seriously?” I mean, I guess I owed the guy the complete girlfriend experience. Even if it hurt to deliver.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I want this to go the distance.”

He didn’t realize how real he was making us sound, I told myself.

“You know I’m not an expert on relationships, right? Obviously, none of mine have worked out,” I reminded him.

“You’re more experienced than I am.”

“Meet the parents. Got it. Anything else?”

“Okay. What about gift-giving?” he said, pausing the show on Ron Swanson’s frowning, mustachioed face.

“Gift-giving?”

“Yeah, like how do I know what to buy you and when? What’s the budget for birthdays and holidays? How does being a couple at Christmas work? Do I buy your family presents?”

“Uh. Those are valid and very specific questions. And that’s all going to depend on the relationship. For instance, you and your girlfriend might decide that she buys for her family and you buy for yours. The main thing to remember is it’s important to talk about things like that in advance. You don’t want to go all out and buy her diamond stud earrings for Valentine’s Day when she just gives you a coupon book for massages and hugs.”

“It all comes back to communication, doesn’t it?” Jake asked with a yawn. His fingers stroked my arm under the sleeve, leaving the skin deliciously sensitive.

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

He was quiet for a minute. The silence was punctuated by Homer’s nasally snores and the beat of his tail as he dreamed good dreams.

“Why are you leaving, Marley?” Jake asked.

I blinked and shifted to look at him.

“Because I don’t belong here. I want something bigger. Something more than Culpepper can offer.”

“Do you like teaching? Coaching?” he asked.

I thought about it. About the wins. The makeover. The girls. Most of the rest of the students. Floyd. Vicky. Haruko. Jake. “Yeah. I do,” I decided. “But it’s not the plan.”

“And there’s no way this could, I don’t know, end up being what you want?” he asked.

I snorted. Find what I’ve been looking for in Culpepper? The place I couldn’t wait to leave as soon as that diploma was in my hot, little hand? “Trust me. Culpepper and I are better off apart,” I told him. “Why do you ask?”

I wanted it to be because he liked me. Because he’d miss me if I were gone. But he’d replaced me once. What were the odds that he wouldn’t do it again?

He gave a shrug. “No reason.”

He hit the play button, and we turned our attention back to Leslie and Ron.





50





Jake





I woke from the best night of sleep of my life to an empty bed. My bliss instantly evaporated, and I bolted from my cocoon. She’d been here. She’d gone to bed with me. We’d argued good-naturedly about the quality of my linens and pillows. To be fair, she had a point. I was nearing forty with a good job, and these cheap-ass sheets were rough enough to exfoliate.

It was time to upgrade.

Uncle Lewis was going to fucking love Marley if her influence got me into a store with sheets and curtains and shit.

I heard a clunk from downstairs and a short bark followed by a laugh.

She was here.

Lucy Score's Books