Ten Rules for Faking It

by Sophie Sullivan

  “You post about your last date was awesome, Everly. Three down, three to go, right?” Mason asked, taking a drink of his beer.

  The shade of the oak tree coupled with the light breeze was enough to send a shiver on Everly’s skin. Or maybe it was the topic of dating. While at a party she didn’t want. While standing with people who were sort of her friends but not. And her boss.

  “I need a drink,” Everly said, then grimaced. “Sorry. Yes. Halfway. It’s been … interesting. It’s teaching me a lot about what I’m not looking for in a man.” They all laughed, and she relaxed further. “I really do need a drink, though.”

  “I’ll get it for you,” Chris offered, hands in the pockets of his jeans. The wind flitted through his hair, ruffling it, and though her fingers usually felt the urge to move, Everly was surprised by their desire to straighten his hair. To reach out and run her hand through it. She thought about how it looked when it was damp at the gym, and her stomach tightened with need. Hello, thirty. Thanks for bringing the inappropriate lust aimed in the wrong direction.

  “I’ll go with you,” Everly said, extracting herself from Stacey’s grip.

  They went to the row of coolers near the table that was laden with chips, veggies, fruit, dips, and an assortment of other snacks.

  Chris crouched and dug through the ice for a bottle of water. He glanced up, and the way the sun hit the ground just behind him made him appear almost angelic. Jesus. She was losing it. Slipping right over the edge. She wanted to hit it off with one of her potentials. Her mind and her heart were surprisingly open. Date three with Brad, who’d been her first ‘like’ on the app was surprisingly nondescript. She couldn’t say anything she truly enjoyed or disliked about the date. Or him. But if she were choosing right now, between Brad or Owen, it would be Owen all the way. She should focus on that. On him. Not the strange tumble of feelings she tripped over when she was around Chris.

  Chris pulled up a bottle of fruit-infused vodka, the one she’d had at her place the night of her ‘spring cleaning.’ “Will this work?”

  Had he remembered? He paid attention to little things. Which is a nice quality, but he also makes you clam up, and you’re looking for a man you can be yourself with. Your new self. She nodded, and he stood, twisted the top off. She accepted it and took a drink, but it tasted sour in her mouth. Apparently, she wasn’t good at hiding anything, because he smiled, took the drink from her, and replaced it with his water.

  “Better?”

  Her eyes burned and she didn’t trust herself to speak, so she only nodded. When he took a drink of the vodka cooler, two thoughts crashed into her head: he was drinking it for her, which somehow felt romantic. And because her inner twelve-year-old liked to make random appearances, her second thought was that their lips had both touched the bottle, which was practically kissing. What is wrong with you?

  Her cheeks warmed. “You didn’t have to come to this.”

  His lips tipped up in an easy grin. “It’s like your parents planned my staff BBQ for me. I should have brought the others along.”

  She laughed, the pressure in her chest loosening by small fractions. “But you didn’t, so you still need to go through with it.”

  “Party planning isn’t really my thing. Jane is working on it,” he said, tipping the bottle up again. She watched his throat as he swallowed. A little hum left the back of her own throat, and she hoped he didn’t hear it.

  They stood in silence for a good five minutes before Everly realized neither of them tried to fill it. It was so … nice. For someone who didn’t like being in the crowd, she didn’t mind observing it. Chris seemed to feel the same. When she glanced at him, hopefully covertly, his eyes were scanning the group, his foot tapping to the music. It was strange how a few weeks ago, she couldn’t have imagined him outside of the station. He was a lot like Stacey in his ability to just fit wherever he went. She wouldn’t have suspected that.

  Stacey and Tara wandered over and joined them, drinks in hand.

  Stacey gave her a contrite smile, paired with puppy-dog eyes. “Your mom was so excited when she called me,” Stacey said.

  “Mm-hmm. Plus, you never turn down a party,” Everly said. Tara shifted beside Stacey. “Tara, you’ve met Chris?”

  They shook hands, saying hello, and Everly sent a mock glare toward Stacey, who shrugged. “What? So I forgot to introduce them. They’re both adults. Besides, you showed up, and I was worried you might kill me for not putting a stop to this.”

  “I still might,” she muttered. “There’s got to be something in the friendship code for this.”

  Tara nodded. “I think you’re right.” Stacey glared at her, making their friend wince and add, “But she showed up and brought reinforcements, so I think the right and wrong cancel each other out.”

  Chris laughed, and Everly bit her lip to keep from joining in. She had good friends.

  Stacey came to her side and bumped her hip. “There are worse things than a backyard party with people who love you.”

  “Plus, there’s food and cake,” Tara said, taking a sip of her drink. Taller than Everly but a couple inches shorter than Stacey, Tara reminded her of a sixties’ pinup model. Rounded curves, long, flowing brown hair, blue eyes, and a tendency to wear slightly retro clothing all worked together to make her striking in a unique way.

  Focus on the good. “Your cake is worth putting up with a party for. Thank you for the one you made on my actual birthday,” Everly said.

  Standing in a small half circle, listening to the three of them chatting and trading stories, Everly’s skin stopped feeling as if it were shrinking. Her breathing came easier until she stopped thinking about it. She could totally do this. In the back of her mind, she knew she should be mingling, as her mother said, but if they wanted her here, she’d do it her way. She hadn’t bolted, so they were still winning.

  That thought was short-lived when she saw her father heading her way, his gaze aimed at Chris. His long gait, height, and happy smile always drew attention. Both of her parents enjoyed being the life of the party and often tried to outdo each other with witty banter and over-the-top flirting when they socialized. Everly hadn’t inherited that gene from either of them.

  “There’s my beautiful birthday girl,” her dad said, pulling her into another hug and keeping his arm around her shoulder.

  Everly tensed. Please don’t say anything awkward to Chris. “I’m so glad your friends could join us. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said to Chris. “Are you here with Tara or Stacey?”

  “Chris, this is my dad, Grant. Dad, this is Chris Jansen. He runs the station.” She didn’t need to add more. If she did, her father would find a chink in her faulty armor.

  “You’re Everly’s boss?” He stretched his hand out, and Chris took it. “Nice to meet you.”

  Chris glanced at Everly. “Boss and friend. It’s nice to meet you as well. You have a great home.”

  Her father’s chest puffed up with pride. Of course Chris would be good with parents. “Thank you. We like it. Where did you go to school?”

  Everly groaned, and her father looked down at her. “What? I can’t ask some questions of your boss and friend?”

  Chris chuckled. “It’s fine. I went to NYU. Majored in business and communications.”

  Her father nodded, clearly impressed. Everly found herself wanting to ask for more details. She realized that as much as they’d been growing closer, she didn’t really know him. Other questions popped into her brain: Did he miss New York? Did he like California?

  “Excellent school,” her dad replied.

  They chitchatted some more about schools and degrees before her father narrowed his focus.

  “Do you like running the station? Is this where you planned to be?”

  Everly’s curiosity tickled her skin. Did he like the station? Was it his dream job? Was it what he’d hoped he’d end up doing? This is exactly why you have to stop thinking you feel something more for him. You haven
’t even asked him any of these things. She felt like she’d been self-absorbed and vowed to find out the answers to her questions. Friends knew things about friends, and he’d learned a lot of little things about Everly. She missed Chris’s answer but tuned back in to hear her father’s tone change.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m crazy about this segment you’re running with my daughter,” her dad said. “As much as we want her to find someone who makes her happy, I’m not sure the last two men are anywhere near her league.”

  “Dad,” Everly muttered.

  “If Everly is in any way uncomfortable, I’ll pull it,” Chris said, matching her father’s serious tone.

  She was ready for something stronger than water now.

  Sensing her discomfort growing, her friends stepped up. “Have you tried Tara’s cream puffs, Mr. D.?” Stacey asked, moving toward her dad.

  “They’re delicious,” Tara said, and Everly knew she was boasting for her benefit. Tara was a kick-ass baker, but she was hardly a braggart.

  “Come on. You’ve got to try them,” Stacey said, looping her arm through his.

  The two women walked off with her dad, letting Everly catch her breath.

  “Wow. That was impressive. It was like a tag-team rescue mission. I feel like I made a narrow escape.” He stepped closer, a playful smile hovering as their shoulders brushed.

  She laughed before she could count all the reasons she had to be nervous. “They’re well trained. The best in their field.”

  Chris laughed, and the sound caused goose bumps along her arms. “Your parents are very invested in your life.”

  She nodded, her ribs expanding fully. Some nights, when she got home from social functions, they actually ached from the pressure of standing so still and trying to be invisible. Or worse, from engaging in idle chitchat about things she didn’t care about. She realized, as she stood beside him, breathing normally, that it was becoming easier to be around him. To be her own version of normal.

  “They are. They mean well, but they have a lot of opinions about how I should live my life and what I should be doing or should have done by now. Mostly, they just want grandbabies, and it sometimes colors their judgment.”

  He glanced down at her, and their eyes held for a beat. “What do you want?”

  Wow. Good question. “To survive the night without any embarrassment.”

  He nodded like that was a perfectly acceptable answer. They both knew it was a cop-out.

  “You?” she heard herself ask.

  Chris shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around her backyard, filled with cousins, aunts and uncles, and acquaintances she’d barely acknowledged.

  “To be good at my job,” he said.

  For some reason, Everly’s heart sank. It was a good answer, and she wanted the same thing, but part of her hoped for something more. For him to tell her something that would make her feel like she wasn’t imagining the little sparks of chemistry bubbling between them. The sparks that shouldn’t, and couldn’t, exist but flared up without warning. On her part, anyway.

  “You are good at your job,” she said, looking away when his gaze came to hers.

  “There’s always room to do better. I want the station to reach another level. When it does, I’ll know I’ve done what I came to do.”

  The answer unsettled something inside of her. What he came to do? What did that even mean?

  Her mom came over with one of her aunts in tow. “Honey, why are you hiding out in the corner? Hello there. Who is this young man?”

  Subtle, Mom. Like a baseball bat to the head. “This is my boss, Chris Jansen. Chris, this is my mom, Jessica, and my aunt Jules.” Her aunt and mother were practically twins in the looks department but couldn’t be more different personality-wise.

  Aunt Jules leaned in for a hug, and Everly caught the scent of her floral perfume. She and Uncle Colt had been married two years longer than her parents but spent all that time living in the same household. If Everly was going to aspire to have a relationship, it’d be theirs. It was solid and real. Never in the kind of flux that the outside world could watch.

  “Happy belated, sweetie. Heard the day of wasn’t so awesome. I’m sorry about that,” her aunt said. She shook Chris’s hand after Jessica did. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yes, very nice to meet you,” her mother added.

  Everly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, her mother was eyeing Chris in a way she’d rather her mother never look at a man.

  “Nice to meet you both as well. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab some food. Everly, would you like anything?”

  She shook her head, that peanut butter feeling making her mouth sticky. When he walked away, her mother stepped closer. “I had no idea your boss was so yummy.”

  Every spark she’d thought she felt fizzled like a watered-down firecracker.

  “Mom. Ew.” Yes, it was a ten-year-old’s response, but there were so many times, in her parents’ company, that’s how she felt. Being with them transported her back to a time where she had little say over anything in her life. Everly wrapped her arms around herself, tapping her fingers against her biceps, hoping it came off as matching the beat of the music.

  “What?” Her mother’s jaw dropped. “You don’t think he’s handsome?”

  Aunt Jules chuckled. “I think she was referring more to you commenting on it, cougar.”

  Everly laughed, appreciating her aunt. “Yup.”

  Her mom poked her in the arm. “There’s nothing wrong with me being able to acknowledge a good-looking man.”

  As long as that was all it ever was, Everly didn’t care. She just didn’t want details or to share these kinds of conversations with her mother.

  Her mom clapped her hands together. “Let’s do presents.”

  Oh yeah. Let’s hit every single circle. Her mother knew she hated opening presents in front of people. It completely flustered her even when it was just family.

  “Mom. Let’s just do yours. Please? I don’t want to take away from your day.”

  Her mom squeezed her shoulders, leaned her head against Everly’s. “I don’t mind sharing my day with you. Let’s do it together.”

  Everly’s stomach swirled, spinning out of control. The sensation reminded her of the little tops that fell out of the piñata so long ago, bouncing into a twirl on the cement below the branch of the tree. She’d watched them spin over and over again, amazed at how they’d created a toy to match the sensations happening inside of her.

  Her aunt patted Everly’s arm, giving her an understanding smile. “Jessie, let’s just do yours.”

  Hands on her hips, her mom tried to give Everly an “I raised you better” glare. “People will want to see you open your gifts.”

  Everly had an argument ready. She opened her mouth and started to speak because she was thirty years old and didn’t have to open presents on her fake birthday if she didn’t want to.

  But her father came out to the porch banging a pot with a wooden spoon.

  “Lots of food, so make sure you all eat,” he boomed when people quieted. He was no stranger to speaking in front of people. “I’d like to say a few words.”

  He looked over to where Everly, her mother, and her aunt stood, and though she loved her father, her stomach twisted with the idea of him turning the spotlight their way. Stacey, Chris, and Tara watched from the other side of the yard.

  “I have had the pleasure of having some wonderful women in my life. But no two make me happier or prouder than my beautiful wife and lovely daughter. I love you both with all my heart.”

  Everly’s eyes watered. Her mom put a hand to her chest and made a humming sound. Her dad put the pot and spoon on the food table and picked up a bottle of beer. “To my girls. On their birthdays and every day.”

  Everyone raised their glasses or bottles, and Everly drank deeply, cooling the fire in her throat. Survived. Done.

  She should have known better. Her dad set th
e beer down while everyone was still toasting, then bent to pick something up. When he lifted a bat in the air, Everly’s airway closed. Her mom clapped her hands together.

  “What’s a birthday without piñata smashing?”

  Everyone laughed and cheered, and Everly’s gaze locked on Stacey’s. Her friend shrugged, her look emanating empathy even from a distance.

  “Get up here, Evie. You get first swing.”

  She shook her head, dug in her heels when her mom started nudging her forward. She was seven all over again. Humiliated and being forced to stand center stage with everyone watching, waiting.

  “I couldn’t believe when I cleaned out your closet and found this old thing,” her mom said under her breath.

  Wait. What?

  She dug in her heels, looked at her mom.

  “All those years, I wondered what had happened to it. Of course, we won’t be able to eat the candy out of it. Come on, sweetie, get up there.”

  Nooooo. No. No. No.

  Her throat was closing. Breathe. Your throat isn’t closing. You’re panicking. Hell yes, I’m panicking. If that’s the piñata from my closet, it’s not full of candy! Her nails dug into her palms, stinging, but she only pressed them harder.

  “Aw. My girl is still shy. That’s okay. Who wants to swing?” her dad said, looking around, holding the bat out.

  She loosened the pressure on her palm, torn between rushing forward and running away. She had to stop this. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she move? Speak? Shout?

  “I’ll take a swing,” Chris said, walking over to her dad.

  Everly’s gaze flew to him, and her heart stopped trying to kick its way out of her chest. She pressed her hand there, certain it had just given up and stopped.

  “Me, too,” Stacey said, followed by Tara saying the same and a chorus of others.

  Her mother laughed. “You’re missing out on the fun. I want a turn,” she called, heading to the crowd.

  Everly stood frozen, stuck in the moment like she wasn’t actually there. Chris lined up the bat and took a swing. The thwack of contact echoed and made people cheer. Aunt Jules slipped her hand into Everly’s, squeezed it.