Meet Fake (Meet Cute #2) Read Online Abi Sabina

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Meet Cute Series by Abi Sabina

Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)

How difficult could it be pretending to be in love with a virtual stranger?
I’ll do anything to get my trust fund on my twenty-fifth birthday, even if it means striking a deal with the new barista.
My parents think they can manipulate me into being the robot they deem acceptable to society by withholding my trust fund, but the joke’s on them if they think I’ll give in to their demands. I’m a Remington, which means stubborn is my middle name.
Sage is perfect for the role of fake girlfriend, but at some point, pretending to date her turns into real feelings that make me question every dream I’ve had.




I rip the button from the cuff of my dress shirt sleeve and roll up the offensive material. My arms feel constricted in it, like a straitjacket keeping me locked in a role that isn’t mine.

Someone stares at me as I pass them on the sidewalk and quickly moves out of my way. It’s either the scowl on my face, my mumbling like a madman, or a combination of both that makes him rush away.

My dad’s words still echo in my mind. The money will be yours as soon as you do what we’ve asked.


A cleansing breath of fresh air fills my lungs and clears the frustration rolling through me.

I can’t believe I’m back in Hartville, even temporarily, crashing in my brother’s spare bedroom. If someone had told me this five months ago, I would have laughed and looked for the hidden camera trying to punk me.

I left after high school for a reason—to get far, far away from my parents and the Remington name. Timbuktu wouldn’t be far enough.

Yet here I am, trying to gain access to my trust fund from my parents. After another unsuccessful meeting with my dad today, I’m not sure it’ll ever be mine. Not after the stipulations they added, which include settling in one place and working for the family business—hard pass—or at a similar job they deem worthy.

I refuse to work at an office. A tie feels like a noose. It’ll be the death of me.

Victim: twenty-four-year-old man chasing his dreams.

Perpetrator: fabric string.

It leaves me with the other option—a relationship that proves I’m settling down.

I swing open the door to The Bean and breathe out when I realize the coffee shop isn’t full of people. I don’t want anyone coming up to me and welcoming me back to Hartville. I’m not here for the long term.

“Would you like a double shot of happiness to get rid of the grouchiness?”

I snap my head up to see the barista smile and finish off her mimed rimshot.

“Ba-dum-tss.” Her smile remains in place.

Laughter bubbles out of me, and I slap the counter.

“Ah, it worked.” She nods proudly.

“You’re new.” I tilt my head.

“I am. How can I help you?” Her voice is cheery.

“I’ll have a large coffee and a slice of the quiche.” I point to the display. “Thanks for the joke. I needed that.”

“It seemed like it.” She taps the screen on the register. “Do you want your coffee black?” She looks back at me.


“Can I have your name, please?” She holds up a black Sharpie and a cup.

“Tristan.” I smirk.

Her short hair lands right below her chin, one side tucked behind her ear, showing an earring in the shape of an aqua beaker that hangs from her ear. I smile at the quirky earring. I guess she likes science.

“Great.” Her big brown eyes look at me, and her gaze is penetrating and deep.

Clearing my throat, I hand her my card so she can ring me up, keeping my eyes on her.

“Your name is Sage?” I read the name tag on her burgundy apron.

I may have traveled around the world, but I’ve never met someone named Sage. Look at that, Hartville is providing unique experiences.

“Yeah.” She nods slowly, pointing to the tag. “Let me guess, you read it here?” Her eyes widen, a teasing smile curling her lips.

I laugh and nod. “Are you as wise as your name?” I tease.

My stress begins to melt away.

“Ha, ha. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that joke.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t stress about my bills,” she mumbles, clearly not intended for my ears, but I hear it anyway.

“Money trouble?” I question.

She just started working here, so I’m not sure why she’d be afraid of that.

“No.” She shakes her head at high speed, like a mixer on turbo.

“Are you sure?” I lean forward with my hands on the counter. “You just started this job.”

“I’ve had a hard time keeping past jobs.” Her tone is clipped.

Her face burns a dark shade of red, similar to her apron, and she turns her back to me, using the excuse of filling my coffee cup to hide.

“Here you go.” She practically slides the cup to me. “Your quiche will be served in a second.” Her eyes avoid mine.