chapter twenty-one: ulterior motive

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               I knew there was an ulterior motive

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I knew there was an ulterior motive. I didn't expect it to be something like this.

Fake dating? What is this, a cliche RomCom? Are we the new Sandra and Ryan? What's next, he's going to propose and suddenly I have to go with him to Alaska to meet some estranged family so I don't get deported?

As icky as it sounds, I'm intrigued by it all. Maybe this will be fun. Butting myself into his life and gaining some girlfriend practice, though I doubt it would do much for my actual urge - or lack thereof - to be a real girlfriend.

I'm not unwilling to learn but I... am unwilling to learn. Or at least I have been.

I can only imagine how exhausting it must be to balance everything else someone has going on with a relationship. It feels like one way or another, something is sacrificed. Sometimes to the point of no return. I guess, after college — after I find my place in the world, I'll have to settle down, but right now feels too hectic.

Too sudden.

"So what's the backstory? Who are we telling? Who do we have to lie to?"

"You know, I didn't think about that." Marshall is leaning back in his seat, his legs parted widely as the car is in cruise control at 75 mph. His left arm is lifted up and over the back of his seat, grabbing hold of his headrest so he can stretch. He's been sitting like this for ten minutes and I've had to stop myself from staring.

Of course, he makes driving sexy.

I sigh, "I expected as much, boo bear." My phone vibrates with a notification and I quickly check to see that it's from my family group chat.

Birth Giver
AHHHHHHHHHHH, I see you're in town, my babyyyyyyyyyy. Pls come and save me from London's constant rapping. They've been doing it since 7am.

He glances at me, "Boo bear?"

"I'm testing out nicknames." My fingers tap my phone screen as I return my mother's text. "What about sugar dumpling?"

Drake Dupe
She's being dramatic. I started at 7:30. I gotta gig after break.

Me, Who Else
I feel like she's not being dramatic at all

The chuckle that escapes him has me trying to force the warmth back down my neck. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

"Better than most. Would you prefer asshole, jerk, or, my favorite, good ol' Ranger Rick?"

"Well," He smiles, "I do have an affinity for baby."

"I'm not calling you that."

"Why not?" He scoffs in disbelief. Why is he shocked?

"Too intimate."

He rolls his eyes and adjusts his position. His hips shift and for some convoluted reason, my mind has this twisted thought of what it would feel like to sit on his lap when he did that. Naked, maybe. Considering I already know how he looks shirtless, it's not much of a stretch to visualize the rest.

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