The Problem With Pretending Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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ME: Can I be awkward and say neither, but food in the afternoon?

WILLIAM: Like a late lunch?

ME: I guess so. I’m studying until three.

WILLIAM: So an early dinner.

ME: I don’t know. Don’t confuse me. I feel like I need to work extra hard to send your grandpa a copy of my thesis since he insisted on giving me these books.

WILLIAM: Believe me, it was his pleasure. He spent all of Sunday evening waxing lyrical about you to your gran.

ME: I’m sure she took the credit for it all.

WILLIAM: Every bit, yes.

ME: That sounds like her.

WILLIAM: What about three-thirty at Oscar’s?

ME: The burger bar on Raymond Street?

WILLIAM: Yes. Or do you want somewhere closer?

ME: Make it four and you’ve got a deal.

WILLIAM: I think I can squeeze you in.

ME: Squeeze me in? What? Do you have a long line of dinner dates I’m disrupting?

WILLIAM: In your dreams, Cinderella. You’re the only one I’m wining and dining.

ME: I hope you’re not planning to get me drunk at four in the afternoon.

WILLIAM: Only if you ask nicely.

ME: Well, since I know you’re paying because you have a complex about that…

WILLIAM: Hey, I wouldn’t turn down a free burger.

ME: Fine, then I’ll pay.

WILLIAM: Absolutely not. You’re not paying for our first date.

ME: See? I’m never going to pay for food again, am I?

WILLIAM: Not with me you’re not.

ME: This seems very one-sided.

WILLIAM: It’s a burger, Cinderella. You’ll live.

ME: Fine, but I’m paying next time.

WILLIAM: TWO DATES? You really are flirting with me.

ME: Oh, piss off.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN – GRACE

Full Circle

The butterflies in my belly were insane.

They were all high on crack. They had to be. There was no other explanation for how nervous I was as I meandered towards Raymond Street.

It was all the butterflies’ fault. They were making me feel like this.

Why was I so nervous? I knew William. It wasn’t like this was a traditional first date—we’d spent an entire week together, and it’d almost been like I’d lost a limb for the past few days.

Four days.

It’d been four whole days since I’d seen him last, and I was falling apart at the seams with missing him.

He’d broken me.

Seeing him again was the only balm to that particular wound, and it terrified me how much I wanted to lay eyes on him. Was this normal? Was this how people felt in relationships?

I’d never felt it before.

Not on this level.

I looked up, and my gaze found him instantly. He was leaning against the wall next to Oscar’s, feet crossed at his ankles, and he was looking down at his phone. His black coat was open, showing his white shirt that was tucked into navy blue trousers, and I glanced at his shoes.

Brown.

So he did know his colours after all.

I raked my gaze back up his body to his face, and my heart skipped when he swung his dark eyes my way. His lips curved into a slow smile, and he tucked his phone in his pocket and pushed off the wall when I approached.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

I tucked my hair behind my ear, feeling my cheeks warming. “Hi.”

He looked at me for a second then wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips to the top of my head. My eyes fluttered shut as the warmth of his body enveloped me, and all the stress seemed to seep out of my body like he was funnelling it away from me.

“Is it weird if I tell you I missed you?” he asked quietly.

“Normally I’d say yes, but not this time.”

“Why, Grace, are you admitting that you missed me, too?”

“Don’t get cocky,” I murmured, pulling back. “I was promised food.”

William chuckled and turned to get the door. “I’ll buy you food, but then you have to tell me why your day was so bad on Tuesday.”

I nodded. “You’ve got a deal. Just let me eat first. I’m starving.”

I stepped inside the restaurant and to the side so he could join me. Calling Oscar’s a restaurant was a bit of a stretch—it was more of a burger bar than anything, and it was a bit of an Americanised version of it, too. It reminded me a lot of one I’d been to when I’d gone to New York with Amber to celebrate our twenty-first birthdays.

But the food was good, and I was hungry, so I didn’t care what it was. I just cared that it served food.

We placed our order on one of the order machines, grabbed a placard with a number, and went in search of an empty table. We found a small table that was high enough to need stool-height seats instead of chairs and snaffled it before anyone else could.

It wasn’t crazily busy, but I was happy there was enough background noise that it wouldn’t feel like we were about to break any kind of uncomfortable silence.


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