Imperfect Love: Unsupervised (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Cora Kenborn

Author:Cora Kenborn [Kenborn, Cora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kindle Worlds
Published: 2017-06-03T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Laken

The Scribe & Scholar ends up being a low-key bar filled with dark furniture, dark lighting, and over twenty taps of beer. It’s the kind of place where patrons go to unwind after a long day on Wall Street, which pretty much describes most of the clientele. Men in pressed business suits crowd the round booths, slamming shots and nursing dark stout beers. They keep to themselves mostly, quietly chatting with friends, laughing over a joke here and there and loosening their ties. The place is relatively small, and definitely not designed for the overexuberant, drink till you puke crowd. I appreciate the darkness. If I run into anyone I know from NYU with this rock on my hand, I’m fucked.

Now ask me why I haven’t taken it off since he slipped it on my finger.

Go ahead. I’m waiting.

Notice I haven’t answered? The reason is because I have no fucking idea why.

The minute he slipped it on my finger, it was like the band fused with my skin. My mind knows everything is fake, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t like the way it sparkles on my hand—or that I didn’t sit and write Mrs. Niall Mackay twenty-seven times with little hearts around it like I was back in eighth grade and crushing on the cute boy in class.

Keep rolling your eyes. Do you know about the first rule of marketing? If you don’t believe in what you’re selling, the buyer will see right through you. That’s Advertising 101, and it works in all facets of life. Don’t believe me? Look it up.

Yep, eleven thousand dollars per semester to learn how to delude myself. I’m living the dream here, folks.

I sit quietly alone in a booth in the back, while Niall steps outside to call and check on Sophie. I had a moment of panic when he asked if I needed to check on Preston as well, and I stuttered, making up some shit about having just sent a text and he was fine.

Hell. I’m going to hell for that one.

As I glance around the bar, my eye catches a patron who’s nursing a highball at the bar and staring at me like I’m on the menu. Now, I’m not holier-than-thou—as you can see, I’m a prime example that those who live in glass houses cannot cast stones. However, one fake relationship per month is my limit, so deciding to use my newfound status to my advantage, I run my fingers across my face and make a huge production of flashing my ring. Diamonds are like anti-kryptonite to some men, and I’m not shocked when he turns around in a huff.

Drumming my fingers on the table, I’m just about to check my watch again when the door opens and Niall smiles as he makes his way over. Without hesitating, he slides in right beside me as opposed to across from me. Normally, I’d roll my eyes and make some comment about personal space. I mean, tell

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