Chapter 7 The Wrong Question
Her fingers locked around his firmly. She didn’t look back as she pulled him toward the exit. The café door chimed wildly as she pushed it open, the morning air hitting her face in a rush.
She didn’t stop walking. Her grip on Nathan’s hand remained tight as she moved down the sidewalk, steps sharp, breath uneven.
Her thoughts spiraled.
He’s Connor. So what? Am I supposed to disappear because we broke up? Does he own the café now? Did I sign a contract when I dated him?
Nathan let her drag him several steps before he stopped abruptly.
She jolted as his arm resisted, turning sharply to look at him.
He glanced down at their joined hands. A slow smirk tugged at his mouth.
“You should hold my hand more often.”
She followed his gaze and her breath caught. She was still holding him.
She dropped his hand instantly, wiping her palm against her jeans like she’d touched something dangerously hot.
“That was,” she said, clearing her throat and adjusting her glasses, “a mistake.”
Nathan’s lips twitched. “Sure it was.”
She crossed her arms defensively. “What was that inside?”
He blinked innocently. “Coffee?”
Her eyes flashed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He studied her carefully now, less teasing. “You ran into your ex.”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not.”
“You said I was your girlfriend.”
“And?”
“And?” she echoed incredulously. A couple walking past slowed to glance at them. She lowered her voice but not her intensity. “Do you just say things to create chaos?”
His smirk faded. “You think I was joking?” he asked calmly.
“I think you enjoy drama.”
“I think,” he replied, voice firm now, “I don’t like people disrespecting you.”
She scoffed, but her expression flickered. “I didn’t ask for help.”
“You were about to cry.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I was not.”
“You were,” he said evenly.
Her jaw clenched as she looked away. She hated that he noticed.
“You should’ve stayed out of it,” she muttered.
He stepped closer. “Did you see Connor’s face?”
She remained silent.
“Did you notice how uncomfortable he got?”
Her lips pressed together. Of course she had.
Connor had gone from confident to shaken in seconds.
Nathan’s voice softened slightly. “He didn’t like that.”
“I don’t care.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Amelia.”
The way he said her name made her look up.
And suddenly, without warning, Nathan pulled her toward him.
She gasped, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Connor’s coming out,” he murmured near her ear. “Watch him.”
Her heart pounded violently.
She could feel the steady rise and fall of Nathan’s chest beneath her palms.
Connor stepped out of the café and froze.
Nathan’s arms tightened slightly around her waist, possessive but controlled.
Amelia swallowed.
Connor’s eyes darkened.
Nathan lifted one hand slowly and gently cupped Amelia’s face.
Her breath hitched.
“Nathan.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips against her forehead.
Her entire body went rigid. The world seemed to narrow to the point of contact.
Connor’s expression changed completely. The smirk disappeared. The confidence cracked. For a fleeting second, something raw flickered in his eyes hurt, maybe. Then anger. Then blank detachment.
The girl beside him whispered something, but Connor didn’t respond. He turned abruptly and walked away.
Nathan didn’t release her immediately. He waited, watching until Connor disappeared down the sidewalk.
Only then did Amelia shove him.
“That wasn’t necessary,” she snapped, stepping back quickly, as if distance would steady her heartbeat.
Nathan watched her carefully. “It worked.”
“That’s not the point!”
“What is the point, then?”
“You kissed me!”
“On the forehead.”
“That still counts!”
He folded his arms, studying her reaction. “You didn’t pull away.”
Her face flushed instantly. “I was in shock!”
“You were shaking.”
“I was angry.”
“You were hurt.”
She looked away sharply, her throat tightening.
He stepped closer again, but slower this time. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I don’t like people talking to you like that.”
Her stomach flipped. “That’s not your job.”
“It is if you’re with me,” he replied evenly.
“I am not with you.”
He held her gaze steadily, not backing down.
The teasing edge was gone now.
“Then let’s be,” he said.
She blinked. “What?”
He took a breath, eyes searching hers.
“Can we fake date?” he asked calmly.
Amelia stared at Nathan as if he had just calmly suggested they rob a bank in broad daylight and grab coffee afterward.
For a full three seconds, she didn’t blink.
“Are you insane?” she finally asked, her voice caught somewhere between disbelief and offense.
Nathan slid his hands into his pockets and rocked slightly on his heels, almost casual, almost relaxed like he hadn’t just detonated a social bomb between them. “Probably,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened further. “That’s not reassuring.”
“I wasn’t trying to reassure you.”
She let out a sharp breath and dragged her hands down her face in frustration. “This isn’t a movie, Nathan.”
“I know.”
“Then why,” she demanded, throwing one hand into the air, “does this sound like a terrible script from a low-budget romance drama?”
He didn’t smile. No teasing tilt of his lips. No arrogant smirk. He just looked at her.
And the sudden seriousness in his expression unsettled her more than the suggestion itself.
“Because it’s simple,” he said quietly. “You need Connor off your back. And I need my reputation fixed.”
She blinked, thrown by the abrupt shift in tone. “Your reputation?”
“Yes.” His jaw tightened slightly. “My reputation.”
She folded her arms instinctively. “You mean the playboy reputation?”
“Yes,” he said evenly. “That one.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “And that can be fixed? You think you can just… rebrand yourself?”
He looked at her directly, his gaze steady. “It has to be.”
“Why?” she pressed, narrowing her eyes. “Why now?”
He hesitated. Then he exhaled slowly. “Because I’m on the verge of being kicked off the team.”
The words didn’t register at first.
Her brows slowly pulled together. “What?”
