Page 65 of You Again

Zev: There is no way I’m letting you go alone. If you are insisting on going, I’ll be there.

And just like that, Zevulun Hayes does not unfriend me but comes to my rescue like the calming, muscle man, superhero he is.

Zev offered to pick me up, and I told him to stay in the car, that my grammy would have questions—ones he wouldn’t want to answer. The truth is, I don’t want her asking all her questions or referring to him as “the redhead” or possibly flirting with him. Surprisingly, when I told her that he wouldn’t be coming up to the door, she didn’t complain. I don’t know how I got so lucky. Because Grammy would normally be full of things to say about a man staying in his car for a woman rather than knocking on her door.

Maybe she’s just glad I’m going out.

“You look nice,” Zev says as I slide into his passenger seat. But he doesn’t exactly sound happy with the compliment.

“Thanks.” I peer down at the red blouse and denim skirt I’m wearing.

Zev’s jaw clenches. “Did you dress up for him?”

I swallow, my throat tight. “For Robert?”

“Yeah. Is the blush on your cheeks—that you never wear—for me, Robert, or yourself?” His brows lift. “Only two of those answers are acceptable.”

Whoa. How does he know I never wear blush? Zevulun Hayes is way too observant. “Is there a reason you’ve decided to snarl tonight? You’ve put on your judgy pants and you’re criticizing my makeup. You don’t get to do that.”

“I’m not snarling,” he says with a most definite snarl. “I’m just thinking about this date with your ex and his wife.”

My pulse thrums faster. Margo. I’m about to face Margo. Can I do this?

Ugh. “Well, when you put it like that, of course it sounds bad.” I grind my teeth, my nerves rising. I count and breathe like Dr. Case taught me. And I talk rather than process my anxious feelings over Margo. “Are you going to act like this all night? I’ve never seen this side of you before. And as your fake girlfriend, I feel like it’s my job to tell you that it’s less than adorable.”

Zev grunts, which is also not adorable, by the way.

“Great time for our first fight,” I mutter.

“It’s hardly our first,” he grumbles back.

I cross my arms in a tight fold. “Whatever that means.”

A low rumble tremors in his throat and he runs his fingers along the straight line of his jaw. “Sorry.”

“Are you going to be okay?” I shut my eyes and pull in a breath. “I know I coerced you into this date and I’m making you pretend and… it’s less than ideal. I’m sorry about that.”

He huffs—he might be turning into a dragon, there is so much invisible steam snarling from his nostrils. “Rosalie. I don’t care about any of that.”

I give him the side eye—because, frankly, I don’t believe the dragon. “You don’t?”

“I care about you. And this doesn’t feel healthy.”

That’s what Fran would tell me, too. I press my lips together. “I don’t know how to explain this—” Especially since Zev doesn’t know my current situation. “But I need to do this. If Robert and I can be friends, maybe I can feel some sort of closure. Maybe I can move on.”

His cheeks puff as he blows out a long, fireless breath. “Fine. What’s our story then?”

Nothing flits through my brain except for the story of how I met Robert. And that one is taken. “Can we just make it up as we go along?”

Zev shifts the car into drive. “You’re living on the edge, Conrad.” And just like that, the dragon is gone; my friend Zev is back.

“I’m guessing they won’t ask about us.” I lean back in my seat and we’re off.

I spot Robert the minute we enter the restaurant, a tiny woman with long auburn hair beside him. A woman I do not know. A person who is going to know me.

Crap.

“Wait,” I halt, taking two steps back toward the exit, my heart racing.