The Fake Dating Trope by Shore Jennifer Ann

Author:Shore, Jennifer Ann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

TEN

Aunt Marie agreed to drop me off at Lucas’s house on the way to work this morning.

It’s early for a Sunday by most people’s standards, and it feels like the entire neighborhood we’re driving through is still asleep, but it’s a normal hour for two people who work at a coffee shop.

“It’s right up ahead,” she murmurs, eyes flicking between the navigation app on her phone and the numbers on the houses.

“Yeah,” I confirm with a nod. “I think it’s this one. With the red brick.”

She lets out a low whistle as she comes to a stop.

This place isn’t particularly fancy, but it’s still a far cry from what she and I are accustomed to.

That reaction aside, she’s been relatively chill about the whole thing with Lucas—or rather, she hasn’t pried for any details about the guy who’s shown up for almost all my shifts lately.

I wasn’t planning on introducing them because I didn’t see the point, but I came out of the stockroom last week with a stack of cups to find the two of them chatting happily at the counter.

And now, every time I mention Lucas, which I don’t think is too often, she gives me a wide smile of amusement.

“Will you need me to come pick you up?” Aunt Marie asks as I unbuckle.

I shake my head. “I think I’ll be set. But thank you. Seriously. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me at all, Kate,” she says sternly. “Just focus on having fun.”

“You, too,” I say as I step out.

She smiles at me before she pulls away, leaving me standing in front of Lucas’s house, clutching my bag against my chest.

I should have brought flowers or baked goods or something because I suddenly feel a little silly just showing up on his doorstep with my tattered bag at eight o’clock—and I feel even more out of place as I approach.

The house is modest but well kept, and even only judging by the front facade, it feels like a home. The flowerbeds have already been prepared for spring, and a sign for Lucas’s baseball team hangs in the window.

The closest my own mother has come to supportive decor was when she taped my first pay stub to the front of the fridge—because she mistakenly took it for a valid check and didn’t want to forget to cash it.

I sigh as I step onto the cement path that leads from the driveway to the front door, tapping the side of Lucas’s car for good luck.

When I reach the door, I knock, rapping my knuckles against the wood three times, and count the seconds until it opens.

The woman with the same blue eyes as Lucas greets me with a smile. “Kate! Hi.”

I plaster on my most pleasant customer service grin. “Hello.”

“I’m Lauren, Lucas’s mother,” she says brightly. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“Come in,” she says, inviting me in with a wave.

“Thank you. I know it’s a bit early…” I tuck my hair behind my ears as I scope out the interior.

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