Fake Boyfriend Wanted: High School Christmas Romance (YA Fake Boyfriends for all Occasions Book 1)

by Sarah Pointe

  My mom nudged me and then moved aside.

  “Oh! Right. Come on in. We’re just about ready to leave.”

  “We have a few minutes. Let me get you two something to drink.”

  He nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.” His voice was so much deeper. Everything about him was…him…but so much more. I didn’t know what to do with this new Pete.

  “You look great.” He smiled.

  And I may have put my hand on the wall to steady myself. Wow. He was like, seriously model hot. I kept thinking that over and over and it was making it impossible for me to speak.

  I had to say something, anything. “Remember when you dumped apple sauce in my lap?” The words came out before I could even stop the train wreck that poured out. “I mean…” I put a hand on my forehead. “That’s not what I meant to say.”

  “Yeah, I remember that.” He gave me a kind of strange look, but then nudged my shoulder. “This is kind of weird, isn’t it? Seeing each other after middle school?”

  “Right. Who wants to be remembered only by middle school awkwardness? I mean, not that you were awkward. I didn’t mind the applesauce…” I needed to stop talking right now. It’s not like I even cared about the applesauce. I literally hadn’t thought about it in three years at least. “Sorry. Hey, come on in.”

  He followed me and then sat on the couch next to me.

  My mom was taking absolutely forever. And I suspected she was doing that on purpose. But I couldn’t be like, time to go, Mom! I scooted closer and he smiled. Okay. Good sign. “Remember my mom doesn’t know about my fake date stuff.”

  “Got it, and remember that’s not what this is.” He searched my face, and something flipped in my stomach watching him. “Is it?”

  I started to shake my head. But then I stopped and grinned. “I guess we’ll see, right?”

  He nodded. “It’s real for me. And thanks for asking me. I get service hours for school for this.”

  “That’s right. You need them for National Honors Society or something?”

  “Yeah, and the distinguished award at graduation. You know, just building the résumé.”

  It kind of disappointed me that he was so focused on getting credit for this. The soup kitchen was something me and my mom did every year, and it was special. Troy went to play at a friend’s, and this had become our thing. I never considered reporting the hours for service. I suppose I could. But it definitely wasn’t why I went.

  Mom came out just then with tall glasses of iced lemonade. “Wow, thanks, Mom!”

  She sat with us. “You’re welcome. Now, Pete, tell me about yourself.”

  I was relieved she could take over for a bit. I needed to get comfortable. It’s just every time I looked at him, I totally stared. And then I forgot how to say anything cool to a guy.

  “I’ve been living here our whole lives, and we knew each other in middle school. But then I started attending private school.”

  “Oh? Which one?”

  “I’m at St. Mary’s.”

  “I’ve heard that has an excellent science curriculum.”

  It did? How did my mom know these things?

  “That’s right. I’m in their accelerated program. It’s meant to be a medical academy prep school.”

  “Oh? So do you want to be a doctor?” I knew she wanted to look at me, make some overly exaggerated excited look about doctors. Don’t look at me.

  She surprised me by playing it cool.

  “I do. I think. I’m still trying to figure all that out, but I figured studying all the science would help.”

  “I think it’s excellent. And how great you live here locally. Maybe you’ll like the soup kitchen so much you can get some others to go.”

  He nodded, and I just smiled at the two of them. When they seemed not to have too much more to say, I stood. “Should we go?”

  We both sat in the back seat of the car. Mom seemed chill about the whole thing from up there in the front. She did catch my eye through her rearview mirror a couple times, but I looked away. Then she turned on the radio.

  I turned to him. “Thank you for coming. This is going to be different, but a lot of fun. The people are just great.” Now that I met him again, I wasn’t totally sure this would be his jam. It took a special person to be able to appreciate serving in a soup kitchen. It definitely wasn’t on the cool scale by anyone’s standards.

  “Relax. I’m gonna love it.” His smile was warm. Encouraging. Maybe he was a totally hot guy with a good heart?

  “Okay. Sorry. I just…when I saw you again, I realized I don’t know you anymore.”

  “Sure you do. I’m that same guy who used to trip over his own shoes, dump apple sauce on your lap, and have to get the right answer all the time in every class.”

  I didn’t remember that. “Did you?”

  “Oh yeah. The male version of Hermione Granger.”

  I nodded. I could see it, maybe. “And I’m basically the same too, I think. Maybe more quiet.” Suddenly I was having a major identity crisis. Was I any different from eighth grade? Was I worse? I had fewer friends, I think. Basically all I had was Sasha. We’d just sort of progressed to that, or I had. I think Sasha had friends.

  Before I could spiral down into a stress cycle titled, “Who am I anymore?” Pete laughed. “You are so much more than you were in eighth grade. And yet, still the same. I can see you arguing with yourself about all this stuff in your head.”

  “What? How could you even know that?”

  “I don’t know. You’re like an open book. It’s all right there.” He tapped my temple.

  And I wasn’t sure how I felt about being an open book, but Mom pulled into the soup kitchen. The outside of the building looked pretty sketchy. Suddenly everything about this visit made me self-conscious, like I was feeling everything was up for some Pete-approval test.

  But he hopped out. “This is incredible.”

  And my worries about him liking everything just stopped right there.

  He stepped closer. “Do I need training? Maybe give me a quick rundown of our job.”

  Mom joined us. “All you need to do is report at the counter, pick up the food, and bring it to people already sitting.”

  “Oh, got it.”

  “Or, if you’re the person behind the counter, you load up the trays for the people coming to get them.”

  “I think we’ll be runners today. And they usually put Mom behind the counter.”

  “And we’re not in a huge hurry, so you can stop to talk for a minute if someone is reaching out. And we get to eat, too, after everyone has been served.”

  “This is getting better and better.” He reached for the door. “After you.”

  Chapter 9

  As soon as we walked in the door, Gloria, the woman who’d been running the place since I could remember, called out. “Is that my favorite little girl?”

  I laughed. She always called me her favorite little girl. I started coming when I was eight; even though they like you to be sixteen, they trusted my mom and let her bring me with. Everyone was super kind and looked out for me, and Gloria always called me her favorite little girl. I realize now I was her only little girl, but that didn’t change things for my young self who drank in every kindness like a sponge.

  “Here I am, Miss Gloria.” I smiled and gave her our customary hug.

  She looked over my shoulder. “And who is this?” I could hear all sorts of honey in her tone. Hopefully Pete didn’t notice.

  “This is Pete. He’s helping us today.”

  “Oh, the guests are gonna love you two. We have a huge group today. I think you’re really gonna be running to keep up, but you won’t get bored.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Pete held out his hand. “I’m impressed with what you do here. Thanks for letting me come.”

  “We appreciate all the help, always, but any friend of Ava’s is a friend here.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.”

  “Just wait ti
ll you get inside.” She winked.

  And I laughed. “Oh, come on.”

  Mom kissed my head and then she left with Gloria.

  “Here we go, you ready?”

  “I’m totally excited about this. Seriously. Ava, you don’t know, but this is the coolest thing I’ve done in a long time.”

  With those words, I opened the door and a thick, hot, loud atmosphere consumed us.

  “Whoa.”

  “Yep.”

  But I smiled and so did he, and we stepped up to the prepping station. “We wash our hands, then sanitize, then hair nets. Then gloves.” I laughed. “And no selfies until we are done.”

  “No way, that is the best part. I’m totally getting a selfie of us doing this.”

  I laughed at his energy. He was going to be super fun I could tell already. “But no guests. They can’t be in any pictures.”

  “Got it.”

  Then we turned to face the room.

  “Is that my favorite little girl?” Jerry, an old man I’d known all these years, waved a hand.

  “Are you famous around here, too?”

  “I don’t know what you mean by too, but yep, there are some regulars that we see every time.” I started waving to Jerry and then the group of women sitting closest to us. I wasn’t sure of their names but they had come last year at least.

  “Let’s get everyone their dinner!” I called and then led Pete over to the counter.

  He stood at my side and Mom set the first trays up on the counter ready to go out.

  “Okay, so. You start at the back. I’ll start at the front, and we meet in the middle.”

  “Sounds like a country song.”

  “What?” I laughed.

  “You know.” He started dancing like a country line dance or something, singing “We’ll meet in the middle.” Over and over.

  A couple of the people near the front clapped. But I just shooed him away. We had work to do and a cafeteria full of hungry people to feed.

  At first it was just a mad dash to get food on tables; we passed each other going back and forth to the countertop. But then as we were heading toward our last few tables, and we were closer together near the middle, I started catching bits of Pete’s conversations.

  “Well now, I’m happy to hear about your new job, Marva. That’s a real blessing during times like these.”

  Marva, who was an older woman with fewer teeth than some, just glowed with pride while Pete talked to her.

  Then Pete sat right down next to Freddie. He was another one who had been coming to the soup kitchen for as long as I could remember. And now, more than anything, I wanted to hear what this guy would tell Pete.

  I stepped closer, taking a long time to deliver the tray to the next person.

  “She’s kind of temperamental. I remember one time we were doing things wrong during clean up, and she straightened us right up.”

  I placed the tray down and then walked slowly around them to take the long way back.

  “She’s a real pretty one though. I can understand what you see in her. She’s always been that way. Never had an ugly phase, that I could see.”

  Were they talking about me?

  “But I’ll tell you something. Lean a little closer ‘cause I want to say this so she can’t hear.”

  I whipped around and put my hands on my hips. “You.”

  Pete’s laugh bubbled up like it was coming from inside.

  “What? You shouldn’t be listening to conversations that aren’t meant for your ears.” Freddie wagged a finger in my direction.

  I huffed and moved back toward the front but not before I heard, “She’s real special to us around here…”

  My heart warmed at the words. Was he gonna give Pete some advice? What a dear man. I didn’t know why exactly he was still coming to the kitchen. But I’d heard something about his anxiety or PTSD from serving in a war or something, but all we ever saw when we were there was a good-hearted man with a sense of humor.

  I hurried through the next few trays and Pete stuck by Freddie. And I didn’t even mind one bit.

  Until at last, he shook the man’s hand and then grabbed our last tray to place in front of the last guest.

  As soon as he put it down, the whole room erupted in cheers.

  He spun around.

  But I just waved and took a quick bow.

  “Is this for us?”

  “For all the kitchen staff. They’re saying thank you. But we’re the only ones out here.”

  He waved and bowed too. “Wow, this is…”

  Did I imagine it, or did he wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt?

  “Come on, you. Now we get a tray.”

  Mom stayed back in the kitchen with Gloria. They seemed to be talking about something real important. So Pete and I found ourselves a nice quiet corner and ate our meal.

  “This is good stuff.” He wiped his mouth after his first bite.

  “It really is. Gloria finds the best quality they can afford and uses some old family recipes.”

  “She’s a genius.”

  “She really is. It takes a special someone to stick with a job like this for so long.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  I leaned back, really loving everything about this conversation. “So, Pete. What did you think of our first date?”

  His eyes lit. “Not a fake date?”

  “That all depends. Does Freddie approve?”

  Pete turned to look at the old man. “He gave me some significant warnings.”

  “Oh? Like what?” The man laughed with the men around him. The whole group of them looked like they could cause some harmless trouble if they wanted.

  “Like if I broke your heart, I might find mine cut in pieces.”

  I choked. “Are you being for real?”

  “Yeah. But I know he was sort of kidding. I mean, he means well.”

  “Okay. But the real question remains unanswered, does he approve?”

  “Yes. After a painful interview where I bore my soul to the man, he said he approves.”

  “That’s all I need to know. This is officially our first real date.”

  Pete’s smile grew. And so did his ability to make my legs feel all mushy. “So, first. Does that mean there can be a second?”

  “That’s up to you, right? I asked you for this one.”

  “And nothing can top it, but…what are you doing Friday?”

  “I have plans Friday, but Saturday, I’m all yours.” I hated to divert like that, but what could I do? I was not missing my fake ice skating date with Tad. I’d made a commitment and besides, it was the ice skating party. The one thing I really wanted to do this Christmas.

  “Saturday it is. That might even work out better for me, if you can handle it.”

  “What is it?”

  “We have our winter choral gala that night. And I need a date.”

  “So, formal dress?”

  “The girls have been calling it semi-formal, and they’re wearing shorter dresses, not the full length if that helps.”

  “Totally. And…yes. I’d love to go with you.” I toyed with my napkin. “Does this mean you’ll be making some kind of statement—bringing me to a school thing?”

  “A little bit. Do you mind that?”

  “Not at all. Just let me know how you want me to be.”

  He shook his head. “Just be yourself. That’s how I want you to be.”

  I could feel my smile grow. My cheeks were starting to ache. “This has been one of my favorite times here at the kitchen. Thank you for coming.”

  “I’m so happy you let me know about it. Can we come back here again?”

  “Sure. I’ll come any time.”

  He reached across the table for my hand. “I’m serious about this being real.”

  “I think I’m starting to be, too.”

  “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I’d stuck around in public school?”

  “I used to. Sasha and
I would talk about it sometimes.”

  “Are you two still friends?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I think so.”

  “That sounds like a story.”

  “Well, she just recently got a boyfriend.”

  He nodded.

  “And she’s the one who posted that Instagram fake boyfriend thing.”

  “So I have her to thank?”

  “I guess so.” I studied him for a minute, just realizing something. “But I’m pretty sure you could have DM’d me any time.”

  His sigh was long and felt like it hurt. “I know. So. The story there is, I just broke up with my girlfriend.”

  Was I like a rebound thing to him?

  “And no, you aren’t a rebound or whatever people say.”

  I laughed.

  “I’ve been following your account since middle school. I’m interested in you, your life. I always have been. But honestly, until you posted that picture and call for fake dates, I didn’t know you were looking.”

  “Would it have made a difference if I had been?”

  “While I had a girlfriend? No.”

  That was fair. I could respect that.

  “But it was perfect timing to happen once I’d broken up.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yes, I do. And I imagine a lot of other guys thought so too.” He studied me, and I could tell the thought didn’t sit too well with him, but he didn’t say more about it, and I wasn’t about to tell him just how many had responded. Or how many dates I had set up.

  “Well, you were top of my list. And all the others are just fake dates at this point.”

  “You still have fake dates?”

  “Yes. I had set them up, you know, before today. I’ve been helping people out with their stuff, too. Family dinners, ice skating, third wheeling. Work parties.” I was trying to make it sound as casual as possible. But really, he and I weren’t a thing. So I could date whoever I wanted, fake or otherwise. He didn’t have to like it, and a part of me warmed a little that he was starting to get all possessive.

  “I can see that. So if I’m gonna be able to take you on real dates this holiday, I’m competing with all the fake dates.”

  “Looks like it.”

  He pretended to roll up his sleeves. “Alright then. I got this.”