More Than I Could (94)

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Flirt - Chapter One





Want more from Adriana Locke?

Read Chapter One from her bestselling novel, FLIRT.



Chapter One

Brooke




WANTED: A SITUATION-SHIP

I’m a single female who’s tired of relationships ruining my life. However, there are times when a date would be helpful. If you’re a single man, preferably mid-twenties to late-thirties, and are in a similar situation, we might be a match.

Candidate must be handsome, charming, and willing to pretend to have feelings for me (on a sliding scale, as the event requires). Ability to discuss a wide variety of topics is a plus. Must have your own transportation and a (legal) job.

This will be a symbiotic agreement. In exchange for your time, I will give you mine. Need someone to flirt with you at a football party? Go, team! Want a woman to make you look good in front of your boss? Let me find my heels. Would you love for someone to be obsessed with you in front of your ex? I’m applying my red lipstick now.

If interested, please email me. Time is of the essence.



My best friend, Jovie, points at my computer screen. The glitter on her pink fingernail sparkles in the light. “You can’t post that.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “And why not?”

Instead of answering me, she takes another bite of her chicken wrap. A dribble of mayonnaise dots the corner of her mouth.

“A lot of help you are,” I mutter, rereading the post I drafted instead of pricing light fixtures for work. The words are written in a pretty font on Social, my go-to social media platform.

Country music from the nineties mixes with the laughter of locals sitting around us in Smokey’s, my favorite beachside café. Along the far wall, a map of the state of Florida made of wine corks sways gently in the ocean breeze coming through the open windows.

“Would you two like anything else?” Rebecca, our usual lunchtime server, pauses by the table. “I think we have some Key lime pie left.”

“I’m too irritable for pie today,” I say.

“You don’t want pie? That’s a first,” she teases me.

Jovie giggles.

“I know,” I say, releasing a sigh. “That’s the state of my life right now. I don’t even want pie.”

“Wow. Okay. This sounds serious. What’s up? Maybe I can help,” Rebecca says.

Jovie wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Let me cut in here real quick before she tries to snowball you into thinking her harebrained idea is a good one.”

I roll my eyes. “It is a good one.”

“I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version,” Jovie says, side-eyeing me. “Brooke got an invitation to her grandma’s birthday party, and instead of just not going—”

“I can’t not go.”

“Or showing up as the badass single chick she is,” Jovie continues, silencing me with a look, “she wrote a post for Social that’s basically an ad for a fake boyfriend.”

“Correction—it is an ad for a fake boyfriend.”

Rebecca rests a hand on her hip. “I don’t see the problem.”

“Thank you,” I say, staring at Jovie. “I’m glad someone understands me here.”

Jovie throws her hands in the air, sending a napkin flying right along with them.

Satisfaction is written all over my face as I sit back in my chair with a smug smile. The more I think about having a situation-ship with a guy—a word I read in a magazine at the salon while waiting two decades for my color to process—the more it makes sense.

Instead of having relations with a man, have situations. Done.

What’s not to love about that?

“But, before I tell you to dive into this whole thing, why can’t you just go alone, Brooke?” Rebecca asks.

“Oh, I can go alone. I just generally prefer to avoid torture whenever possible.”

“I still don’t understand why you need a date to your grandma’s birthday party.”

“Because this isn’t just a birthday party,” I say. “It’s labeled that to cover up the fact that my mom and her sister, my aunt Kim, are having a daughter-of-the-year showdown. They’re using my poor grandma Honey’s eighty-fifth birthday as a dog and pony show—and my cousin Aria and I are the ponies.”

“Okay.” Rebecca looks at me dubiously before switching her attention to Jovie. “And why are you against this whole thing?”

Jovie takes enough cash to cover our lunch plus the tip and hands it to Rebecca. Perks of ordering the same lunch most days. Then she gathers her things.

“I’m not against it in theory,” Jovie says. “I’m against it in practice. I understand the perks of having a guy around to be arm candy when needed. But I’m not supporting this decision … this mayhem … for two reasons.” She looks at me. “For one, your family will see any post you make on Social. You don’t think they’ll use it as ammunition against you?”

This is probably true.

“Second,” Jovie continues. “I hate, hate, hate your aunt Kim, and I loathe the fact that your mom makes you feel like you have to do anything more than be your amazing self to win her favor. Screw them both.”