Miss Belief: A Fake Relationship Romance (The Miss Series Book 3)

When I’d suggested we have deeper conversation, I’d meant about him. If I was to get over this crush, then I needed to know more than his favorite color. It was orange, by the way. Whose favorite color was orange? It was the color my nightmares were made of, a color I’d never be caught dead wearing with my red hair.

Yet despite learning his poor favorite color choice, my crush was far from abating. Especially when he had to go do something thoughtful like get me my favorite coffee drink. Therefore I was actively hunting for a deal-breaker. The one thing that would be an instant turnoff and rid me of my feelings once and for all.

He took a seat next to me on the couch, his nearness doing funny things to my insides. “Tell me why you’re so wary.”

I decided to be honest, curious as to what type of reaction it would illicit on his part. “My mother was a meth addict. She was always making promises she didn’t keep. Same thing went for anyone else she brought around. So over the years, it became harder for people to earn my confidence.” I didn’t mention my high school boyfriend who’d crushed all my teenage hopes by telling me I wasn’t good enough for him or his rich family.

Reid visibly swallowed. “What about your sister? Is she someone you trust?”

“Always. Tory was always there for me growing up. We’re close.”

“And your niece is how old now?”

“She’s four. She was quite sick this past year with leukemia.”

His eyes went wide. “Christ. Did she beat it?”

“So far, it appears so. She’s the bravest person I know.” I hadn’t meant to share so much, yet Reid was easy to talk to. “So that’s as deep as I go. Now then, what’s your favorite kind of music?”

His grin was contagious. “Ah, all of a sudden my list is appealing again?”

It was indeed. The surface stuff was safer. And who knew? Maybe I’d find out he loved country music, and my crush would go poof, gone. “How about we compromise and do one deep conversation per day?”

“Deal. And I’m fond of jazz music.”

I crinkled my nose. Jazz was even worse than country. “But you’re under sixty—how is that possible?”

He chuckled. “It’s possible because I have an appreciation for real music. I also love classical. None of this pop rap crap.”

“You do realize pop and rap are two different types of music?”

“Most of them meld together these days. And have you ever listened to jazz? Real jazz from a vinyl record?”

His unapologetic love for his horrible taste in music was sexy. Dammit.

“How old are you again?” I teased.

He grinned. “Thirty-two. Thirty-three on September tenth. When is your birthday?”

“September ninth if you can believe it.” I’d always thought it was funny our birthdays were one day apart. “But of course, I’m eight years younger.”

“Only seven years on September the ninth.”

“And who says one day doesn’t make a difference?” I joked. “Okay, now we know we’ll never agree on music because I love pop, let’s talk movies. What are your favorite types?”

“All types really. Of course I like action flicks, but I prefer the black-and-white classics.”

“And now I’m convinced you’re older than you look.”

He shrugged. “I have an old spirit. And they don’t make movies like they did back in the day, I promise you. Matter of fact, if we were actually dating, I’d make you come over and watch one and listen to jazz music.”

“If we were actually dating, I might pretend I was excited about a black-and-white movie and old-person music.”

He chuckled. “No, you wouldn’t.”

I joined in his laughter. “You’re right, I totally wouldn’t.” Instead I’d give him a hard time just as I was now.

His face suddenly took on a serious expression. “I’ve had a lot of fun these last few days.”

“The gym is your idea of fun?”

“No, but hanging out during our work lunches has been.”

My eyes pricked with tears from the pang of longing which suddenly hit me. For a moment I could picture truly falling for him. I pushed to my feet, walking over to take in the view from his window to keep him from seeing my stupid, unexpected emotion. “Hanging out with you has been fun too,” I said. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. We could do a light lunch, then maybe something bigger for dinner?”

“Lunch and dinner?” I turned to face him. Were we spending the entire day together?

He got up off the couch and strode into the kitchen. “Sorry, I’m being presumptuous. You probably have other plans.”

“You’re looking at them. I have to say it’s been quite boring without Chloe. My apartment feels empty, so it’s nice to get out.”

“When will they assign you another roommate?”

“It could be any day.”

I hoped whoever they placed with me was laid-back and sweet like Chloe had been. I was the type of girl you either hated or loved. There was no in between. My “extra,” as people called it, was definitely an acquired taste. I tended to get overly excited about mundane things and overly sensitive about other things. When I was a child, the teachers had called it ADD, but as an adult, I preferred to think of it as having a lot of enthusiasm.

Reid pulled takeout menus out of a kitchen drawer and walked over to hand me a few. “As you can see, I have quite the pick of restaurants who deliver.”

The thought of spending an entire day with him had me giddy. But this wouldn’t do. I had to dig a little deeper into Reid Maxwell and hope for a disgusting habit or some other turnoff. Hadn’t my sister said the quickest way to rid me of my crush was to really get to know the man?

I decided on my next round of questions over a lunch of turkey sandwiches and tomato soup.

“Was Vanessa your first time?” That would’ve meant he’d waited until college, but I could see him holding out for her.

His adorable face turned the same color of the soup. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Anyone else you were ever serious about?”

He sighed. “Is this relevant to our fake relationship?”

No, but I wanted the details for my own selfish get-over-my-crush reasons. “Definitely. I’d want the details of who you’ve ever been involved with.”

“Fine. There were a few others when we were on breaks.”

Interesting. “Anyone serious?”

Another long, exasperated breath. “For me, no. For one of them, a little bit. I don’t enjoy talking about this.”

I suddenly had a clear picture. “You dated someone while on a break, she fell for you, but you were still in love with Vanessa and got back together with her.”

“I’m not proud of it. That’s why this”—he motioned between us—“is so much better. The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone or risk another rebound relationship.”

“Is there a chance you’d take Vanessa back?”

His jaw clenched. “No. Not this time.”

“Because she cheated on you?”

“Yes.”

I wondered if it had been a long-term affair for Vanessa or only a single night. “Was your brother into her over the years?”

He shook his head. “No. Quite the opposite. She crushed on him in high school, but all the girls did. He was cool while all the other teenagers were awkward. Anyhow, he didn’t pay Vanessa any attention. In fact, when I got together with her, he was vocal about his displeasure with it. Ironically, he’d warned me she might cheat. Then he turned out to be the one she cheated with. Anyways, how did we end up rehashing this tired subject?”

“Guess I had some residual questions.”

“How about you? Who was your first time?”

It wasn’t relevant to our whole fake dating scheme, but I thought it was only fair to reciprocate. “Johnny Mills in tenth grade. I was rebelling, and it was nothing worth remembering except that it was my first.”

“Anyone serious for you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I had a high school boyfriend for, like, three months.” Before I’d realized he was too ashamed of me to tell people we were dating. “Guess I’m not one for commitment.” Because commitment meant trusting someone wouldn’t leave. It meant being vulnerable. And it meant there was a good chance they’d let you down in the end.

“See? One more reason this arrangement is perfect.”

Right. Because he wouldn’t have to worry about me getting attached. My eyes wandered around his apartment, looking for a lifeline, anything to change the subject. “Is that a game controller?” I could see it under his television and was instantly curious. But I was even more surprised by the way he reacted.

He jumped up as if the discovery was offensive and quickly shoved the device into a drawer.

I caught a glimpse of a gaming system before he got the drawer shut again. “Do you have an Xbox?”

He turned, his face red. “Yeah, but I don’t play it. Much.”

“Right. You just leave the controller out.” I was up and pulling the drawer open before he could stop me. In it was an Xbox, a headset, and two controllers. When I opened another drawer, it revealed a number of games.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re extremely nosey?”

I threw a grin over my shoulder. “All the time. Care to revise your earlier statement about not playing much?”

His face was still red. “It’s to kill the solitude, ya know.”

I took out two controllers. “I do know. Now pick your poison. Which game should we play?”

He stared at me. “You want to play?”

“I’d love to.” I’d always wanted a video game system while growing up, but it was a luxury we couldn’t afford. “I may not be very good.”

He seemed to relax. “I’ll teach you.”

I decided to let go of my mission to find a turnoff and just give in to the moment. Getting over my crush would have to wait for another day, because discovering this secret side of Reid was definitely not doing it.

Two hours later we’d gone through all of Mortal Kombat, and currently I was getting my ass kicked in some kind of survival game. We spent the entire afternoon laughing while he taught me all the moves and tricks of the games. “Sure, you hardly play. You’re a gamer, Reid Maxwell.”

His adorable face heated yet again, making me put the controller aside.

“Yet, you’re weirdly embarrassed about it. Why?”