TweetyGram

27 - #PSIStillHateYou

"How did you get that autographed copy of Red Moon for Almond?" I asked.

"Why? You want one?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just answer the question, will you?"

She giggled. "Well, I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who—"

"Okay, okay, I get your point. What I'm trying to say is, can you get an autographed copy of P.S. I Still Hate You?"

"That's the sequel to To All The Boys I've Hit Before, right?"

"Hated," I corrected her. "But yeah."

The highly anticipated sequel to the popular young adult romance novel was scheduled to hit the shelves two weeks from now. If I could acquire a signed copy or even just the cover of the book with the author's signature on it, then I might be able to use it to lure the Wolf out of the jungle.

"I don't know. I'm going to have to ask my friend about it," Nat answered. "Why?"

I wanted to keep my plan a secret. Unfortunately, Nat and I shared a brain cell. She easily figured out what my plan was and promised to get her hands on a signed copy of P.S. I Still Hate You. By the time I hung up the phone, I couldn't help but wonder if my plan was going to work, and more importantly, whether or not Nat could keep it a secret.

The longer I thought about it, the more my head hurt.

As the clock struck seven, I bottled up my worries. The plan was already in motion, and I could only pray the Wolf fell into the trap I was setting.

Right now, I had something more important to do.

It was time for me to play girlfriend.

***

I had no reason to be nervous. Yet I'd been standing in front of Jake's door for almost ten minutes now, and I still hadn't knocked on the door. A trickle of sweat ran down my temple, my hands were ice-cold, and my toes couldn't stop tapping the floor in a frantic rhythm. It was worse than when I'd attended the job interview at the Gazette.

Come on, Lindsey. It's just dinner with Jake . . . and his grandma.

A fresh surge of anxiety twisted my stomach, causing it to churn.

From the story Jake had told me, his grandma sounded like the world's sweetest grandma. But she was also very, very overprotective of him. Not that I could blame her. I would be too, if I almost lost my grandson to cancer.

Chewing my lips, I stared down at my dress. It was a chic, navy-blue fit-and-flare dress that had a pair of sheer, long puff sleeves with ruffled cuffs. I paired it with dark stockings to cover all the scars on my limbs. The dress wasn't as pretty as the one Jake had bought for me, and I couldn't help but wonder if his grandma would like it.

No, I wondered if she would like me.

Oh, don't be ridiculous, Lindsey! You're just Jake's fake girlfriend. Fake. So what if his grandma doesn't like you?

That didn't help. If any, it worsened my anxiety, and now I felt the urge to pee.

This is a terrible idea. Maybe I should call it—

The door swung open from the inside.

"Hey, I was just about to go to your place," Jake greeted with a smile. His eyes flicked over my dress. "Wow. You weren't kidding when you said you'd prepared the best outfit, huh? My grandma's gonna love that dress."

"You think so?"

"I know so." It was only three simple words, but it managed to ease my anxiety. He opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Come in."