Not If I Date You First

Chapter 25

LIAM

I stand in the back corner of the restaurant, holding the single, red rose I bought from the street vendor out front as Ada winds her way through the tables covered in crisp, white linens. The sunshine streaming through the massive skylight overhead catches in the chaotic, wavy strands of her purple ponytail. All I can think about is getting my damn hands in that hair.

Heads turn as people decked out in their finest designer threads watch her pass. She definitely stands out in her yoga pants and sneakers, camera dangling around her neck. She's the only authentic person in a sea of posers and social climbers.

She sees me and stops walking, head cocked to the side, eyeing the rose in my hand. I thought if she walked out of here holding it, the photographers would go nuts.

After my visit with my dad this morning, all I wanted to do was see Ada. I told myself it was so the paps could get more shots of us together in case he decided to talk to the press despite the cash I gave him. But I should've already texted Julian, so he could tip the photogs off about us being here.

Part of me—a very stupid part—wants to just hang with this girl today and see what happens. Between that kiss at the carousel and the way she blocked the paparazzi from photographing Faye outside Rockefeller Plaza the other night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. That was shockingly cool. Definitely not what I expected. It's got me wondering if maybe she isn't like the rest of them at all.

"Are you auditioning for the next season of The Bachelor or something?" Ada's mouth curves into a grin.

I laugh, holding the flower out to her. "Ada Datchery, will you accept this rose?"

She studies me for a beat then plucks it from my hand. "I guess. But next time you decide to invite me to High Tea at the freaking Plaza, maybe give me a heads up, so I can change." She gestures at her clothes.

I want to tell her she looks gorgeous just how she is, but instead, I clear my throat and say, "Right. Sorry."

Striding past me, she sets her camera down on the table. My hand brushes hers as I reach to slide her chair out for her.

She rolls her eyes at me. "I can get my own chair."

"I know you can, Ace."

She looks over her shoulder at the other diners, but a row of potted plants blocks us from view. "No one's watching," she says. "You can drop the act."

Her words are a reality check. None of this is real. It's all a show. The thought is weirdly disappointing.

"Humor me." I gesture toward the chair.

She sighs dramatically but sits down. A waitress appears and takes our drink orders. Ada asks for a Coke, and I request my usual.

"An Arnold Palmer? Seriously?" Ada's eyes crinkle with amusement. "My great-grandpa used to order those."

"Hey, don't mock it till you try it."

"I'll take your word for it." She smiles, and for a second, all I want is to be the guy who makes her smile like that all the time. I've got to pull my head out of my ass.

I open my menu. "So, how's work going?"

"You want to talk about my work?"

"Isn't that what people usually talk about during business lunches?"

She quirks an eyebrow like she sees right through me. All the conflicted feelings I have for this girl are probably written all over my face.

"If you must know, work is pretty craptastic at the moment." She flicks her menu open.