by Emily Lowry
“No,” I admitted. “But I might be able to find out.”
“How?”
“I could ask around. People might tell me things they won’t tell you.”
He considered this. “And what’s in it for you?”
“Access,” I said. There wasn’t much point in sugarcoating it. “I want to be the senior editor of the Pinnacle next year. To do that, I need to kill it with this social feature. Which means I need to get into all the cool high school events. And well… you saw how well that went at the party. People aren’t exactly lining up to invite me to things.”
Chase nodded slowly, taking my words in.
“So, if we go together…”
He exhaled slowly, his cheeks puffing out like a blowfish. “I see. Well, my first thought is that it sounds crazy.”
We watched a pair of young lovers walk by, their hands intertwined.
“And my second thought is that the last person I want to trust with my personal life is someone that could make a public story about it.”
I protested, but he cut me off.
“You seem really nice, but I barely know you,” Chase said. “And my whole private life going public thing? I’ve been burned by Click before.”
“It’s not like I know you much better,” I replied. “And I have zero desire to get involved in your business or meddle with it. All I want to do is investigate for you, and all I want you to do for me is get me into some parties. It’s a fair trade.”
Chase ran his hand through his hair. “Look, you’re a cool girl. But I still like Savannah. What if people think we’re dating? What if she thinks we’re dating?”
Did he just call me cool? I considered his question. “If Savannah asks, just deny, deny, deny. It will be the truth. Plus, if people think we’re dating, that’s even better — if someone is sabotaging you, and they think I’m your girlfriend, then…”
“They’ll come after you.” He finished.
“And I’ll be able to tell you everything they’re doing.” I sat up straight and stared ahead. I was proud of my plan, but I didn’t have the nerve to look Chase in the eye. He remained quiet.
This had to work. It was my only chance.
I thought he might be trying to work out if I was insane or not for a second, and then I realized what the problem might be. “Chase, I am not trying to date you. Unlike every single other girl at Evermore High, I don’t want to go out with you, ok? I mean you’re nice and everything…”
I looked at him and saw he was staring at me, incredulously. I guessed no girls were ever so upfront with him, so I bit the bullet and continued. “Look, if we’re being honest, I have a crush on someone too.”
“Who’s that?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he added, “strictly off the record.”
“Nicholas Applebee. He’s a senior.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s the senior editor. He gave me the social feature. If I do a good job and impress him with it…”
“Huh.” Chase bit his lip, pondering. “I don’t think we can do this. Not if we only go halfway.”
It was my turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”
He leaned forward, his voice hushed. “You’re right. If people think we’re dating, and someone’s after me, they’ll come after you. And they’ll let you into the parties. So, we go all the way. You pretend you're my girlfriend. We get blasted on Click. Then, three weeks later, we find out if something is really going on. While we’re waiting, I’ll get you into any social event you want access to. Then, when it’s all over, we both explain it to Savannah. You get your social feature, I get the girl. Everyone wins.”
Chase Jones was willing to pretend that I, Abigail Murrow, was his actual girlfriend? Whoa. This was all starting to feel surreal.
“Nicholas might even notice me more if I have a boyfriend,” I agreed, slowly collecting my thoughts. “Maybe I could use this as a reason to make him jealous.”
“Right. We work together. You figure out why I can’t keep a girl I like, I get you into the events you want to write about. I get Savannah back, you impress Nicholas. Strictly business. No feelings involved.”
“No feelings involved,” I agreed. “And nobody can EVER know.”
“Never,” he echoed.
I nodded, and Chase stuck out his hand, laughing. “Then let’s do it. Abigail Murrow?”
“Yes?”
“Will you be my fake girlfriend?”
11
Abby
I sat alone on the bleachers, my jacket pulled tight around my shoulders to protect from the wind, my hands folded in my lap. The football field below me was a bright shade of green — the same shade as my eyes, I’m sure my dad would say — and the grounds crew was painting white yard lines. It was early evening, two days after Chase and I had made our bizarre pact.
I had spent two almost sleepless nights reliving the impossible conversation we’d had outside Peak’s, playing it over and over in my head. It didn’t seem real, and yet it was. I would be Chase Jones’s new girlfriend.
Well, fake girlfriend.
But nobody else would know that bit.
The thought was strange. I had never been anyone’s girlfriend before, never mind the girlfriend of the boy everyone wanted to date.
And I didn’t want Chase to know that I’d never had a boyfriend before. That would need to stay my secret. I felt like I knew him well enough at this point that he would never go for it if he thought he was taking away that first from me. He really seemed to be kind and thoughtful. Two things I had wrongly judged him about previously.
I decided we needed to lay everything out on paper, like any good journalist would do: get the story straight.
So here I was. Chase finished practice a half hour ago, and I was waiting for him. We hadn’t announced our “relationship” to anyone yet — there were still a few i’s to dot and t’s to cross.
Chase emerged from the tunnel that led out from the Athletics Building and jogged across the field, stopping briefly to crack a joke with one groundskeeper. The metal bleachers creaked as he slid into the seat next to me. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, flopping down around his eyes, and he smelled like clean laundry. His t-shirt was damp and stuck to his body, making it way too easy to imagine what he’d look like without it...
I blushed - focus, Abby! - and looked to the mountains in the distance. This was strictly business. “So. We need to discuss our terms and conditions.”
A hint of amusement appeared on his face, his deep blue eyes dancing. “Straight to business, huh? I don’t even get to ask my new girlfriend how her day was?”
I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at me or trying to crack a joke, so I ploughed ahead. “No feelings allowed in this relationship.”
“Sounds like my parents’ marriage.”
I laughed, but again, I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so I stopped quickly.
I tried to compose myself, then pulled out my notepad and flipped to an open page. “For you, it’s easy. My job is to find out why you can’t get a girlfriend.”
“Whoa. I can get a girlfriend.” He said, an exaggerated look of mock hurt on his face.
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “My job is to find out why you can’t keep a girlfriend.”
“Yeah ’cause that’s so much better,” he said sarcastically.
“I’m a journalist, I deal with facts” I told him, as I scribbled into my notepad: Find out why Chase can’t keep a girlfriend. I underlined the word keep. “Simple enough. Your job is more complex.”
“Nah — I get it. I take you to parties as my girlfriend. We act like girlfriend and boyfriend in public. You get your stories for the paper. It’s not rocket science.”
“Going to a few football parties won’t be enough for the social feature. It’s supposed to be an all-encompassing look into the social lives of students at Evermore High. The ultimate undercover expose, if you will.”
“
I get to read it before you publish it.” He tapped my notepad. “Write that down. That one’s important.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m bringing you into this world. You might see some things. Can’t have you trashing all of my friends.”
“As long as I can trash you,” I joked.
“I’m used to it.” He wasn’t joking.
“I won’t… trash you that is.” I told him, suddenly regretting my joke.
I wrote it down: Chase gets to read the article before submission.
“Thanks,” he said.
“For this to work for me, I need the full high school experience. I’ve prepared a checklist.”
He laughed. Then he saw my expression. “You’re serious?”
“How else would I do this?”
“Abby you are so….” he looked at me strangely, as if no amount of searching could find the word to describe me. “Different.”
All the words in the world, and he had settled with different. Great.
“Let me see that.” Before I could protest, he snatched my notebook away from me. When I reached to grab it back, he dodged, his reflexes much sharper than mine.
Clearing his throat, he read aloud: “Number one. Go to a football party. Wait, last weekend doesn’t count?”
“I felt awkward. We didn’t stay.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough. Number two. Go to the Costume Crawl on Main.” There was a note of confusion in his voice. “You know you don’t need me for that one, right? Literally anyone can go. It’s a public event.”
The Costume Crawl was a Halloween tradition in our town - everybody gathered in full costume on Main Street for the festivities. At Evermore, it was often the time where people first stepped out in public as couples, in cute matching costumes, ready to end up all over Click’s gossip blasts the next morning.
“It’s not the same if it’s just me and Izzy.” I tossed him my pen. “Write that down — Izzy gets to come with us.”
“Do I have to bring a fake boyfriend for her too?”
“Your call.” I raised my eyebrows and fixed him with an even stare.
Chase scribbled something into the notepad before continuing to read. “Number three. Get a public Christmas Crush invite. I don’t know…”
I blushed furiously. The Christmas Crush was THE high school event of the fall semester. It was a formal dance that was legendary for guys inviting girls in a lavish, public manner. The spectacle would go on for weeks each November in the hallways of Evermore High. What’s more — if the legends were to be believed — the Christmas Crush had the most amazing afterparty. The afterparty was super-secret and by invitation only. If you asked anyone about it, they would deny its very existence. I had never been invited to the afterparty. In fact, I’d never even been invited to the dance itself.
“You don’t have to take me to the dance, or the afterparty,” I blurted. “But I want the invite.”
“The public invite,” he corrected, frowning.
“It’s important.”
“Why?” he seemed genuinely curious now.
Oh, to have never had a single problem getting in anywhere. “For the social feature.”
“You said that if this was going to work, we needed to be honest with each other.”
Ugh. “Fine. I want the invite because this might be my only chance to get one. I’ve never been asked to a dance before. I’m not exactly Ms. Popularity at school.”
“Wait, you’ve never been invited to a dance at all. Like any dance?” Chase stared at me like I was an alien.
I blushed furiously and was immediately angry with myself for blushing, for caring at all, which made me redder still.
“No,” I admitted, keeping my head up and returning his stare defiantly.
“Well, that will need to change,” Chase stated, like it was just a simple fact that could easily be resolved. “What about your guy?”
“Nicholas? He’s not my guy.” I folded my arms across my chest defensively. “I doubt I’ll have impressed him enough to merit an invitation by then. And he’s a senior, he’ll be gone next year. So even if it works out, I still won’t get an invite next year.”
“You think pretty far ahead.”
Finally, Chase was close enough for me to grab the notepad. I lunged and snatched it back, then furiously scribbled out the invite. “It’s fine.”
“Hey, it’s all good. If you’re still my fake girlfriend come November, I’ll do an invite for you. And I’ll make sure it blows your mind.”
He seemed sincere, and I smiled, gratified. Until he added, “Remember, though, we may have this thing wrapped up in three weeks.”
He was already counting down the days. I tried to hide my blush by scratching my cheeks. Was I just going to be blushing permanently from now on?
“And that just leaves one more thing. Number four. I need to go on the cliché high school student date.”
He looked at me again like I was a brain teaser puzzle that was getting the better of him. “Hang on… You’ve never been asked to a high school dance… and never been on a high school date?”
Ugh, there was no point in even trying to disguise my blush at this point. I was sure that if Chase found out the truth, he would back out.
So I took a deep breath, looked him dead in the eye, and I lied. “Correct. I have never gone to a high school dance or on a clichéd high school date because I choose to stay away from Evermore social functions. I prefer to date outside school.”
The lie slid out of my mouth easily, but I felt funny in my stomach as I watched the look of relief cross Chase’s face. If only he knew...
“Ok, easy, I’m glad you think I’m the person to fulfill all the high school clichés for you, as you’re too good for them in real life!” His voice dripped sarcasm, but he smiled, making it clear he was kidding with me.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I’d expected some resistance.
“Strictly business,” Chase said. “I’ll walk you through the motions of every last cliché you ever heard of. Besides, if I’m your fake boyfriend, the least I can do is take you out on a fake date. But I’m telling you now — it’s dinner and a movie.”
“Deal,” I replied.
Chase considered this for a moment. He chuckled.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s just funny,” he said. “I spend way too much time trying to make sure the people around me aren’t using me for things. And here I am with you, making a deal so you can use me.”
I did not appreciate his phrasing. “You’re using me just as much as I’m using you.”
He must have caught the tone in my voice. “You’re right. My bad. Just… the irony.”
I always appreciated irony.
“Oh, one last thing,” I said, suddenly feeling shy. I held out my cellphone to Chase. “I guess, if we are going to be a couple, we probably need each other’s numbers.”
“Yeah,” Chase took my phone from my hand and punched in his number, “I’ll send a text to myself so I have yours, too.”
His phone vibrated, and I nodded curtly, trying to look all business.
He glanced at me again for a second. “Do you think people will, you know, buy it?”
“Buy what?” I asked, my heart suddenly pounding. I couldn’t have him bailing at the last hurdle!
“You know, you and me? That we are a… thing?”
The awkwardness in Chase’s tone hung in the air between us.
I wasn’t stupid. What he ACTUALLY meant was: will anyone ever believe that I would date you?
He was just too nice to say it. And he had a point. Would anyone believe this could happen?
“Don’t worry about it,” I said crisply, trying to keep my face neutral. “If you need me to do the full Madison Albright makeover for this to be in any way believable, I will oblige. It’s part of playing the part.”
Chase looked stricken. “No, no, Abby… I didn’t mean… that.” His tone implied that he did, in
deed, mean that.
He ran his hands through his hair as he spoke, “I don’t need — or want — for you to look or be anything like Madi, ok?”
I didn’t quite believe him.
“Don’t change yourself for me, or anyone, Abby — fake or not.” He looked at me sincerely for a moment before breaking into a grin. “Just maybe… I dunno… stop dressing like a divorcee stuck in an office job?”
He vaguely gestured toward my blue button-down oxford shirt and black slacks, and despite myself, I laughed. He had a point.
I kept my voice cool and replied. “Noted, Jones. Less business, more bimbo. Especially for you.”
I held my breath as I met his stare defiantly.
He frowned, then burst out laughing.
I breathed a long sigh of relief. He was still in.
I scribbled my signature at the bottom of the paper, drew a blank line, and handed the notepad to Chase. “Sign here and we can get started.”
He signed, rolling his eyes. “Should we make a prenup for our future fake marriage, too?”
I ignored him and took the notepad back, checked the signature, and stood.
It was official. We were fake dating.
Chase Jones, unbeknownst to him, had just become my first boyfriend of my entire life.
So much for starting our “relationship” with total honesty.
12
Abby
There was nothing more exciting than preparing to investigate a new story. Normally, I tried to unravel local scandals and unearth the secrets buried by history. But today I’d started working on a new type of investigation: uncovering why Chase Jones couldn’t keep a girlfriend for longer than three weeks.
The late September weather was still warm, so I took up residence on the patio in our backyard. The tree in our backyard, a towering Rocky Mountain Maple, was changing color from green to red. I loved the feeling of fall settling into our yard. I’d always thought of fall as a romantic season, and this year, I had a fake boyfriend to share the season with.
I connected my phone to Spotify and turned on my Discover the Mysterious playlist. I made notes.