How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,10

shoot and drink. It was work, but I’m not going to lie—we consumed a lot of wine on our Friday sessions, which was why Dean always found something else to do. “You know, you should let me pay you,” Holly said. “The site’s doing really well. I feel like an ass.”

I shrugged. I probably should make Holly pay me, but it felt weird to charge my best friend, who was launching her own business and whose talent I truly admired. “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Make me a dress.”

She lit up, her blue eyes going wide. Her dresses were custom and she sold them for a lot of money, so it was a pretty big favor. “I’ve offered to do that a dozen times! You mean you’re taking me up on it?”

“I am,” I said. “Because in two weeks, I have to go to a wedding.”

“Okay.” Holly pressed her palms together, looking at me speculatively. There was nothing she liked better than the chance to make a dress. “A September wedding. Something light, but not too light. Not cotton or linen. Knee length, because you have great calves. I can work with that.” She blinked, coming out of her reverie and noticing my expression. “You don’t look very excited. Whose wedding is it?”

“My cousin Stephanie’s,” I said, biting my lip. “And you’re right, I’m not excited.”

“Why not?”

I cleared my throat. “Because the groom is sort of my ex.”

Holly blinked. “Oh.”

I looked down into the black surface of my coffee. “Stephanie’s mother is my aunt Janice. I spent a summer at Aunt Janice’s place right after my mother died. Stephanie was there, and so was Kyle. He lived a few blocks away.”

Holly slumped a little in her chair, guessing where this was going. “Go on.”

“Kyle and I hooked up,” I said. “I really liked him. We went out for a month.” I cleared my throat again. “He was my first, and then he dumped me. Just told me it was over, no warning. Two weeks later, he was dating Stephanie. And now they’re getting married.”

Holly was quiet for a minute, thinking. “You like Stephanie?” she asked.

“I do,” I said. “I don’t think she even knows about what happened with me and Kyle. She has nothing to do with this.”

“So it isn’t the bride who’s the problem, it’s the groom.”

“He isn’t exactly a problem,” I argued. “It was a long time ago.”

“But you thought it was serious. At least then you did.”

I shrugged. I had a hard time talking about personal things, even with Holly. Especially when they had anything to do with that time around my mother’s death. I hated being reminded of that time at all. And the wedding was going to remind me.

Holly sipped her latte for a minute, thinking this over seriously. This was my favorite thing about her, the thing that made her my best friend—Holly always thought things over before she said them, and she always knew when to take something seriously. “So you want to go, but you don’t,” she said. “I get that. Maybe just go and show him how awesome you are, then get out quick.”

I smiled. “That’s the other problem. The stupid thing is being held on Cape Cod. And it’s going to be really swanky. Stephanie has a lot of money.” I thought of my run-down wardrobe and shitty car and winced.

“Well, I’ll make you a dress that looks like a million bucks,” Holly said loyally. “I have some nice vintage jewelry I got from estate sales. Shoes, too. And cheap out on the gift, because who cares anyway? You just need to bring a really, really hot date with you, just to show them.”

I smiled at her. I didn’t have a hot date, of course. I didn’t have any date at all. I was about to say that when the coffee shop door swung open behind Holly, and Dean walked in.

Holly had probably texted him where we were. He’d come from his job at a big greenhouse in the area, and he was wearing worn jeans, a black Henley, work boots, and a baseball cap. Dean had spent four years in the Marines alongside Jason—the two best friends had enrolled together—and he had the body to show for it. He had tousled brown hair and deep hazel eyes, along with a sinful mouth and a sexy scruff of beard. There was no denying that Dean Madden very ably filled out the hot requirement. And he was off-limits, which was