BIRDIE | NH |

TWELVE

Wren

"You're telling me that was fake?!"

Macy looks at me from across the table, breakfast food spread out between us.

Instead of looking her in the eye, I pick up the overstuffed burrito on my plate and reach for a small cup of salsa— anything to keep myself busy. "Yeah, I told you it was."

"Right, right." Rolling her eyes, she takes a bite of her omelet. "If you say so."

"It is." Heat travels up my neck as the words tumble out, my hand coming up to the base of my neck to trace the diamond pendant. "You're just seeing things."

"So me watching that man put his hands all over you must have just been a mistake on my part? My contacts must have fallen out for a second." Macy says with a deadpan tone.

"Must have been the alcohol." Shrugging my shoulders and taking a bite almost too big for my mouth, I send up a tiny prayer that she would change the subject.

Because I needed to change the subject.

Badly.

Last night needed to be as far away from me as possible.

When I threw on my favorite jeans and grabbed an old hockey shirt out of my drawer, not once did it cross my mind who I would see inside of that venue.

If it had, the last person I would have picked would have been Niall.

The two of us gravitated to each other like opposite ends of the strongest magnet, not a single damn thing we could do to keep ourselves from meeting in the middle of that crowd.

Feeling his hands on my skin, his lips ghosting over my neck, the words from those same lips whispered in my ear— God.

It was all I could do to keep myself from begging him to take me anywhere where we could be alone.

Just the two of us.

I was attracted to Niall and the more time that I spent with him the more I had to tell myself over and fucking over that we had made an agreement.

A plan.

This relationship between us wasn't real and nothing would ever come from it.

Nothing could come from it.

He was Niall Horan, retired professional golfer and owner of one of the most prestigious golf courses in the world.

Me? I was just Wren Jacobs.

The girl who's family catered to her little sister and the girl who worked in marketing.

There wasn't anything about me that would make him choose me in a regular scenario, in a real dating atmosphere— it was fake.

Fake, fake, fucking fake.

Yet there was a small part of me that let myself imagine if it wasn't. Like right now as Macy tells me about work and I do my best to concentrate and listen.

"Saturday night is the event at the Lakes, right?" Signing the check she refused to let the waitress split, she smiles at me before grabbing her purse.

I nod, reaching for my wallet. "Yeah. It starts at seven but I have to be there around five thirty."

"I'll be there at six in case you need anything. Besides, maybe I'll be able to properly meet the man who had his hands all over my best friend." Shooting me a wink, we push out into the sunshine of the morning.

Sliding my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose, a sound between a laugh and a scoff falls from my lips. "Oh my god, you are the worst."

Her laughter makes me want to shove her over and hug her right all at the same time. Opening my car door, I watch her walk up to her car next to mine. "Make sure you text me when you get home."