“It won’t work. Deirdre lives in town. She sees your face, she’ll remember it. What happens when she sees you out cavorting with other women? It would make me even more pathetic than I am now.”
“It’s only a month. I just won’t date anyone until I have to leave.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple, Kami. I got you into this mess, let me help you out of it.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’m not the jackass you think I am.”
“I don’t think—” He gave me The Look. That would be, the no bullcrap look. “No, you’re right. I’ve pretty much thought of you as a donkey’s butt since the first day I showed up to jump.”
The funny thing, he laughed and didn’t look at all offended.
Deirdre predictably texted back: Boyfriend? What boyfriend?
“Ready?” My new fake boyfriend asked. “Our first official selfie as a couple.”
Before I even had the chance to check for puffy eyes or fix my hair, he tugged my chair closer to his, draped his arm around my shoulder, leaned his head in to look more intimate than friendly, and used his other hand to take our picture with my phone.
“Wow, I’m quite the photographer,” he said, then flipped the phone around for me to see, laughing outright at my reaction.
Because my eyes, in fact, looked puffy, although my hair looked okay. He typed in the caption: Len bought me skydiving lessons to help me get over my fears.
He sent it. Then he powered off my phone and handed it back.
“Why’d you shut it off?” My mind still tried to reconcile the total one-eighty he’d pulled from the man who sat down maybe fifteen minutes ago to now.
Len shrugged. “She’s going to have a lot of questions, which it’ll kill you to ignore. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“What do you know about my fears?”
“Nothing but what you’ve said, what I’ve observed. The ex said you were boring, wouldn’t go on adventures, and you’ve tried four different times to dive, but backed out. Not to mention, you keep calling yourself a coward. Doesn’t take a genius.”
Well since he’d been so forthcoming with his other answers, I decided to ask a more personal question. One that a girlfriend would know, one that I’d wondered about since I first met him six weeks ago. “Why Lenin? Was your mom a fan of Bolsheviks?”
He’d been laughing at me here and there since first sitting down at my table, so this one shouldn’t have affected me any differently, but as it sounded totally different from the others, it did. A deep, rumbling laugh sounding like it rose up from the pit of his belly. “Lennon, not Lenin. My mother was and remains a fan of The Beatles.”
“It’s nice. A strong, handsome name. It fits you.”
“Why Kami, did you just pay me a compliment?”
“Seemed like the girlfriend thing to do, if we want to be convincing. Where are you going at the end of the month?”
“Iceland.”
“Iceland?”
“Aside from the skydiving, I work on an eighteenth century replica schooner cruise ship. Rich folk pay big bucks for the experience.”
“Wow… you are pretty much my antithesis, with your jumping out of planes and big water cruising.”
“I climb mountains, too.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“What about you, girlfriend? Where do you work?”
“Oh, I’m a hairdresser at Affinity Salon.”
“That’s the expensive place uptown, right?” Lennon took another sip of his drink watching as I shook my head yes as if my answer held the secrets to the universe. Though, his reaction was far less intense. “Impressive.”
Not compared to skydiving, schooner cruising, and mountain climbing, but I enjoyed the work.
Summer of the Boy Page 13
