Ten Rules for Faking It

by Sophie Sullivan

  “No, thank you.” Don’t be so uptight. He’s comfortable in his own skin. You can’t say the same. I mean, he’s a lumberjack of a man who dresses up his dog. He has to feel pretty confident to show those pictures … wait. What if he and the dog have matching costumes? Her brain flashed to Scooter and Corbin in matching pumpkin outfits, and she choked on her bite of salmon.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, her eyes watering. Taking a long sip of water, she forced herself to think of something else, but matching costumes kept coming to mind. Corbin in a Santa outfit, Scooter as an elf.

  “You’ve got a great smile,” he said, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his.

  His phone rang, and though he looked sorry, he answered it. Everly used the moment to regain her focus so she wouldn’t get a case of the giggles.

  “He probably just misses me. Put him up to the phone,” Corbin said in a loud whisper.

  Everly’s eyes widened. No way. He wouldn’t.

  Corbin’s shoulders curled forward as he pushed his plate away and spoke into the phone. “I’ll be home soon, buddy. You miss me? Aren’t you having fun with Grandma?”

  Everly glanced around. No one was staring at them.

  “Who’s a good dog? I love you, buddy. I’ll be home soon.”

  Keeping her eyes on her plate, Everly picked at her salmon.

  “Sorry about that,” Corbin said.

  She looked up again, hoping her eyes were judgment-free. Focus on the good. He loves his dog.

  “No problem. Everything okay?”

  The happy light in Corbin’s eyes had dimmed. “It is. We’re not apart often. I spoil him a bit, I guess. My mom says hi.”

  Everly had no words. She shoveled the salmon into her mouth and nodded as she chewed.

  “Might have to cut it short,” Corbin said a few minutes later, glancing at his phone again.

  Everly said a silent thank-you. “Sure. If you need to.”

  Because she definitely wanted to.

  * * *

  “You’re lying,” Stacey said into the phone as Everly crawled into bed that night.

  Part of her had wondered if Chris would be waiting for her on her stoop again, but he wasn’t.

  You’re not disappointed, she’d told herself as she let herself into her home. When Stacey phoned, just as she was heading to bed, she lied to herself again and said she hadn’t wanted it to be him. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on in her head and her heart where he was concerned, but it felt like they were dangerously close to establishing a friendship.

  Everly refocused on her conversation. “I wish I were. In the end, he didn’t finish his meal. He boxed it up for Scooter.” Might as well tell her everything. “Then he ordered a chocolate-free dessert for the dog to make it up to him.”

  The line was suspiciously quiet.

  “Are you laughing?” She grinned and leaned against her headboard.

  Stacey cleared her throat. “Of course not. So, what were you thinking for hashtags?”

  Everly smiled. “How about hashtag no matching outfits?”

  Her friend didn’t hold back this time as she snort-laughed and tried to speak around it. “That’s good. What about hashtag love me, love my dog?”

  “Hashtag man’s best friend and more.” Everly ignored the text coming in.

  “What about hashtag TMI about my dog?” Stacey got her laughter under control. “Why does he even need a date when he has Scooter?”

  “Not all restaurants allow animals, you know. The man likes his food.”

  “I’m sorry, Ev,” Stacey said, her tone evening out.

  “No reason to be. I’ll figure out a way to write it up nicely, but I bet you can guess who wins this week’s round.”

  This was good. She could laugh about it and the evening had taken such strange twists and turns, she wasn’t even obsessing about anything she said that might have come across as wrong or dumb or embarrassing.

  “Owen sweeps the week,” Stacey cheered.

  “Paws down,” Everly agreed, both of them breaking into laughter again.

  When she hung up with Stacey, Everly saw that Chris had texted.

  CHRIS: Night go okay?

  EVERLY: Don’t you want to wait to read about it on Facebook?

  CHRIS: I’d always rather hear it from you.

  Now, why did that sentence do something funny to her belly? She really needed to pull herself together. Between turning thirty, worrying about her job, breaking up with Simon, and starring in a one-person dating drama, her thoughts were jumbled.

  EVERLY: He loves his dog. A lot.

  CHRIS: That’s … good?

  EVERLY: Took him home dessert to apologize for being out.

  A gif came through of Ryan Reynolds face-palming, and Everly laughed. She loved a good gif.

  EVERLY: Exactly. Owen wins this week.

  CHRIS: Clearly. Night, Everly.

  EVERLY: Night.

  She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the breeze wafting into her room from the open window. Taking stock of how she felt, she realized that despite the date tonight, she felt good. She was going to sleep smiling rather than cataloging the things that went wrong tonight. Maybe there was a chance for her to find her happy through all of this. If nothing else, it could be a chance for her to nail down what she didn’t want out of life while, maybe, giving her the courage to go after what she did want. You just need to figure out what that is.

  [16]

  Rule four: Try something new each month. Rule six: Be bold, even if it gives you hives. It didn’t seem to matter which of her rules she recited in her head, Everly couldn’t make herself get out of the car. She hated going to the gym. Okay, she’d never gone to a gym, but the idea of sweating near strangers or listening to big, bulging men grunt through weight lifts just weirded her out. In her head, all gyms were sort of like a bad eighties flashback—teased hair, spandex, and Jane Fonda bodysuits. If you go in, it’s a twofer: two rules, one activity.

  She gripped the steering wheel, wondering what she’d been thinking. You were thinking of doing something for yourself. A couple of listeners had come into the station to pick up their free passes to a local fitness center and raved about the place. Everly entertained the idea of checking it out, telling herself it would be a great way to meet people and get outside her Boring Comfort Zone, which Stacey referred to as her BCZ. To be fair to herself, she’d already pushed the boundaries of her comfort several times lately. She’d gone for sushi—which wasn’t her favorite—on the latest date with her first like on the app, Brad. Total boundary pushing. So what’s one more?

  “Yet you’re still sitting in the car.” She looked through the windshield at the quaint, rectangular building. She’d watched several people go in and out. The kickboxing class she’d looked up online, one of the ones recommended by the listeners, started in ten minutes. Everly was intrigued by the idea of kicking and punching a heavy bag as a way to expel stress. Every woman wanted to be able to go a little Black Widow now and again. Black Widow kicked some serious ass and probably never sat in her vehicle wondering if she should go for it. “Consider it work. This way you can verify whether or not this place is as great as their ads say.”

  That bolstered her courage a bit, enough to get her out of the car and into the gym. It was different from how she’d expected … more sedate, with less spandex and fewer mirrors. A woman dressed in athletic wear similar to her own—yoga pants and a tank top—greeted her with an easy smile. Her red hair was pulled into a side braid, and she didn’t look like she lived and breathed weight training. See? Not so intimidating.

  “Welcome. Are you joining us for a class tonight?”

  As she walked toward the reception desk, some of her unease loosened. “I am. I haven’t been before. I was hoping to drop in on the kickboxing.”

  The woman typed something into the computer. “Awesome. I’m Misha. That’s one of my favorite classes. The instructor is great for all levels
.”

  Misha asked a few questions, charged a reasonable amount, and led Everly through a state-of-the-art fitness center. It was busy with people on treadmills, ellipticals, and other machines. Everly kept her gaze on the receptionist’s back so she didn’t accidentally lock eyes with anyone. One night. Forty-five minutes of cardio. She could handle that in a roomful of strangers who would never see her again. Unless you love it—then you could be a regular; you could get a membership. An image of herself as Black Widow kicking ass popped into her overactive brain. It made her smile. One step at a time. Music buzzed quietly through ceiling speakers, and the news played on low from a television in the corner. There were rooms off the central fitness area with blackened windows, which increased her comfort level. Everything was better when people weren’t staring. Misha stopped in front of one of the far rooms, and Everly heard conversations coming from within. Laughter rang out, and different music played. You can do this. She felt like she was getting her cardio just by showing up and getting to the right room.

  “Did you want me to introduce you to Rob, the instructor?” Misha smiled at her.

  “No, thank you. I’ll just find a spot at the back.”

  When Misha left, Everly continued standing just outside the room, pressing her fingers into her thigh. Things that could go wrong: She could fall flat on her face, she could kick someone, someone could kick her, she could get a concussion, she could sweat right through her clothing. Way to think positive. Okay. She could do positive. If she did sweat through her shirt, it wasn’t white, so there was that. She could pick up some cool moves and feel more confident when she was walking alone. If she sucked or made a fool of herself, no one would know.

  “Everly?”

  She spun around, her heart jumping into her throat. Chris stood before her dressed in athletic shorts and a plain gray T-shirt that hugged his chest and revealed surprisingly sculpted arms. His hair was a little sweaty at the sides, making it look darker, and he was breathing faster than normal.

  Her tongue worked itself into a knot.

  Chris leaned in, and Everly caught the hint of sweat mingled in with his regular scent. That should be gross. Sweat is gross. Only he didn’t look or smell gross. Nerve endings went haywire along her skin, surprising her into stepping back.

  “What are you doing here?” Chris’s eyes roamed over her once, then locked on her own.

  Find your words. Hello, tongue? Now would be an excellent time to remember how to speak. The music in the room behind them swelled, pumping out a heavy beat. It matched what her heart was doing in her chest.

  “Do you usually work out here?” A slight smile tilted his lips, and his gaze softened, narrowed so it was like she was all he could see.

  She shook her head. “Kickboxing. I’m going to try it.” Awesome job, Yoda. You can speak.

  Chris looked around her into the room and lifted his hand. Who was he waving at? Did he work out here regularly? The shape of his chest and arms suggested this wasn’t his first time in such a place. He focused on her again. “Is there a reason?”

  She forced her eyes upward. “Pardon?” Why was her mouth so dry?

  He arched a brow. She didn’t blame him. Her inability to string words together was brow-lift-worthy.

  “Kickboxing. You just trying it for fun or … do you feel like you need a way to defend yourself for a particular reason?”

  Her pulse settled at the light undercurrent of worry in his voice. Her heart quivered once and then settled to an acceptable pace. She waved her hands, dismissing the notion. “No. Not at all. I … well, I … I’m just trying something new. We always offer passes to this place, so I thought I’d give it a go.” She probably looked completely out of place. Don’t think like that. I could be a kickboxer. Show some damn spine, Everly. Look like you belong. Be bold.

  She straightened her back, squared her shoulders. “I should get in there. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  Not waiting for a reply, she went in and was happy to see there were only a half dozen other people, not including the instructor.

  “Welcome. Come on in,” the tall, dark-haired guy greeted. He had pretty big muscles, but Everly wouldn’t call them bulging. He didn’t look like he made odd, creepy noises when he lifted weights. See? You always imagine it will be worse than it is. “Okay, everyone, welcome to kickboxing. I’m your instructor, Rob. I see a couple of new faces. Don’t be shy. Don’t be hesitant. This will be a combination of cardio and strength building. We’ll do some stretches to start, go through a few standard moves, and then we’ll break into partners.”

  Everly’s heart clutched. She’d have to partner with the instructor. It was gym class all over again. Last girl standing partnered with the teacher because no one else wanted to join up. She tapped her fingers against her thigh and inhaled deeply. Her breath caught on a familiar scent, and she turned her head when someone stepped close to her side, shoulder brushing hers.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered to Chris, relief that it was him pumping through her blood.

  “Kickboxing. Thought I’d give it a try.” He grinned at her and then turned his head, waving back to the instructor, who was waving at him.

  Her stomach pitched like a boat caught in the rapids. You can do this. Pretend he’s Stacey. She side-eyed him. They talked every day now, in person or via text. Sometimes on the phone. They were officially friends. Friends don’t sweat in front of friends. This was supposed to be easy. Try something new.

  Chris’s baby finger brushed against hers, and a spark shot through her like a jolt of electricity restarting an engine. “Breathe,” he whispered.

  Oddly enough? She did. You’ve got this. Even if you don’t, pretend you do.

  “Okay,” Rob said after he’d led them through a series of yoga poses. He was surprisingly agile and flexible for such a big guy. She didn’t know if Chris was because if she wanted to not fall over in front of him, she needed to keep her eyes glued to the instructor.

  “Feet planted shoulder-width apart. You want to keep your core tight but your body loose.” Some of the words were drowned out by Everly’s heartbeat as it picked up its pace, beginning to thunder in her ears. Breathe. Just listen to the instruction. Just listen to his voice. Every time she inhaled, she caught a hint of Chris, and it wrecked her focus.

  Rob walked them through a cross punch, a hook, uppercut, and jab. He made the movement look fluid and easy, but Everly felt clunky.

  “You’re doing great,” Chris whispered from beside her, following the motions with the ease of someone well practiced.

  She glanced his way, stared at his profile for a minute, missing Rob’s instruction for combining the moves.

  “What relaxes you?”

  “What?”

  He stepped closer, still punching the air. “Think of something that relaxes you. There has to be something you can think of that settles you the way tapping your fingers does. Picture that. Forget about everything else.”

  Wait. What? How did he know about her tapping? Rob continued to model the movements, increasing the pace. When he began walking through the classroom, Everly focused all her attention on what she was doing.

  Right, right, left. Step forward, uppercut. Rob nodded when he approached.

  “Nice job. This guy distracting you?” He grinned at them, giving Chris a friendly shove.

  Chris blew out a noisy breath. “Shut up, man.”

  Rob ignored him. “Because I could show you how to drop him to his knees with just a couple of moves.”

  Despite the fact that sweat was starting to drip down her back, her heart was going too fast for what she was doing, and she was ultra-aware of Chris beside her, she laughed. “I’d like to learn that.”

  “Hey!” Chris stopped punching and stared at her.

  Everly’s mouth dropped open. She dropped her own fists, bringing one to her mouth to hide the grin, then gave up. “I didn’t mean for you, necessarily.”

  Chris stared at her, hi
s lips twitching with amusement. “Really?”

  Feeling an unexpected wave of bravery—maybe from endorphins—she put her fists back up and smiled at Rob, then looked at Chris. “Not unless you make me mad.”

  Rob laughed. “I like her. She’s feisty.”

  Everly’s breath caught. She was? Feisty wasn’t a word she applied to herself. She liked it.

  “If you really want to kick his ass, or anyone else’s, let’s adjust your stance. Another time, we can work on disabling a guy for the hell of it.”

  Rob corrected her position, telling her to angle her hips in a slightly different way, how to stabilize her feet, then moved back to the front of the class.

  “Okay, we’ll work through some kicks, put it all together, and then we’re going to work on sparring.” His voice easily carried over the music.

  “You know him?” Everly asked, enjoying the thrum of energy vibrating through her body.

  “My neighbor and friend.”

  Ahh. Likely the reason we get so many free passes given to the station for doing a live event.

  The kicks were more fun than she’d expected, but the combination of jab, jab, cross punch, kick, kick took more work. By the sixth time, she got it down and felt a burst of satisfaction pump through her blood.

  “Nice job. You’re a natural,” Chris said, wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm.

  She snorted out a laugh and was breathing too heavily to feel embarrassed by the sound. Instead, she gave herself a moment by grabbing a drink. She could do this. You are doing this. She hadn’t made a fool of herself at all. Maybe she’d come to another class. Stacey would love this.

  When she came back to the mat, she even smiled and nodded at one of the guys looking her way. That rock-star rush of exhilaration vanished with Rob’s next words.

  “Okay. We’re going to do some sparring. It’s a little more up close and personal, so you’ll have to adjust your moves to your partner’s comfort level. If you don’t know the person beside you, introduce yourself now, because you’re about to try to kick their asses.”