Novel & Cerita Don't Date Him Name Search

I G****e him in the parking lot. I sit in my car with the heat running and my phone in both hands and I type his name into the search bar like a woman who needs to understand what she just walked into. Dominic Sinclair. The results come back in under a second. Pages of them.

His name was Rex Wilder. I couldn't help thinking the name fit. There was something untamed about him. Right there in the theater, he had me pressed back against the seat, kissing me while his hand slid under my clothes, tracing along my waist. The way he kissed me was intense, almost overwhelming. It left me a little breathless. My face burned as I glanced around, trying not to make it obvious. Luckily, we were tucked into a corner. No one seemed to notice what was going on.

She might be annoying at times, but she's still my sister. So now I'm telling her about this handsome guy called Nathan Carmello, who doesn't look real, who shouldn't be real, someone I'm not supposed to date. But here I am, and tomorrow we're going to spend time together, and I can't wait.

He waited as saw the typing icon. Then the text dropped. “Please don't kill me” The text came with a smiley emoji, “Actually, I set you up on a date with this dude that has been begging me to link you both up. He's nice. You'll like him. Please don't kill me when you get back.” Luke gritted his teeth in utter exasperation and cursed under his breath. That imbecile! He should have known! He should leave as soon as possible before the date arrives!

Because I don't think I can anymore. The three dots appear, disappear, and appear again before her reply finally comes through. *I don't know what we're doing anymore. But I know I can't stop thinking about last night.* Something loosens in my chest, hope and terror crashing through me at the same time. *Good,* I send back. *Because neither can I.* I set my phone down on the counter and drag both hands through my hair, staring out at the dark city skyline. Somewhere between the fake dates, the charity gala, and a stolen kiss in a freezing hallway, I fell completely for the one woman I was never supposed to want. And for the first time in years, I have absolutely no intention of fighting it.

“And I can help end it. Tell everyone we're dating and no one will pay attention to what happened in the locker room and the dorm. They'll even think it's an invasion of privacy and take down their articles.” “Not Kelsey though.” “Come on. Let's give it a shot. You won't know till you try it.” “I’m not dating you.” “Then I'll leave.” “Fine,” I hissed. “Jesus. I'll date you. Fake-date you.” “Yay.” Jericho giggled and threw her arms around me. I barely caught myself and we tumbled to the floor. Just then, I heard the sound of a camera click and turned. Kelsey Sawyer had taken our picture and this time she winked.

I don't think he knows how she has been messing with me. “ So, you don't remember the girl you went on a date with at my workplace, then canceled it?” I explain. "Oh, her," He mumbles. "I can't even remember her name. I can't be expected to remember every random person I have been with." My eyebrows shoot up. He is really something. A typical example of a fuck boy. He can't even remember the name of someone he has been with, and yet has the nerve to refer to them as "random people."

“With the girl you’re in love with.” “I didn’t say that.” “You don’t have to. Your face does.” I throw a sock at him. He catches it. “Okay, real question. Do you remember how to go on a date?” “Yes.” “Are you sure? Because you don’t usually date. You… appear. Charm. Disappear.” “That is not true.” “That is extremely true,” he says. “You’re a romantic comet. Very bright. Very brief.” I glare at him. “I can handle this.”

I ignore her. I open I*******m first, fingers flying with impatient precision. I scroll through my explore page like I’m hunting for a ghost—faces blur together, influencers posing, rich boys flexing watches and cars, men who would fall at my feet with one smile. None of them are him. I go to the search bar. Fuck! I don't even know his name. I type random letters. Delete. Type again. Delete again. Nothing feels right. My chest tightens. I switch to F******k, my last real hope.

“I’m um…I’m looking for someone, we’re supposed to meet up at the bar. You’re coming from there, right? Can you help me find her?” I actually didn’t want to do that, I just wanted to walk away and sit at a table in the corner and drink until my date showed up or not. But there was something about this guy that I just…he had captured my attention fully. And I felt like he could ask me to do anything right now and I would do it. Pretty privilege, I guess. “Do you know her name?” My annoyance had faded at this point. “Not really,” he chuckled the words out. “We met on a dating app. So I only know her user name.” He shrugged.