by Emma Dalton
“They figured the only way to get close to him is through you,” he continues, unsure eyes meeting mine. “If we’d grow…friendly. Maybe even more than that.” He brushes his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick, but on him it once again looks so calm and collected. “They suggested we grow close so I’ll get to know your dad well and…”
“You mean like fake date?” I ask.
His eyes meet mine. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean. But only if you’re okay with it. Honestly, when my buddies brought it up, I shot it down. It didn’t feel right. But my future is on the line here. Football means everything to me, and you have no idea how competitive it is out there, how hard it is to catch the attention of recruiters.”
I’m not completely familiar with that world. Dad talks about his work here and there, but I don’t know what it’s like to be in Brayden’s shoes.
But holy heck, he wants us to fake date? Me, fake date him?
“I know it’s crazy,” he continues. “But I need to do this for my dad, for my brother. I’ve worked my whole life for this and if I don’t follow my dreams, then what am I? What has my life amounted to?”
I just gape at him. He’s so raw and real right now. Another guy might brush his emotions aside, or mask them with cockiness. But not him. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and isn’t embarrassed for others to take a peek at them.
He pushes some more fingers through his hair, managing to keep it fresh and shiny and not oily from all that touching. “It’s so selfish of me because I know you wouldn’t get anything in return…”
“No!” I say before I can stop myself. “I mean, I don’t have to gain anything. I’ll do it.”
He narrows his eyes in confusion. “You’d really do this for me?”
I smile. “You’re a great QB and an even greater person. I want my dad to see that. I know he can be a tough cookie sometimes. I want you to get into the school of your dreams and have all the good things thrown at you.”
“Thanks. But I’m only doing this if you’re totally one hundred percent on board with this. I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”
I shake my head. “No pressure whatsoever. Honest.”
He gets to his feet, grinning deeply, warmly, and appreciatively. “Thank you, Kara.” His eyes focus on something in the distance. “I think your pizza is here. Enjoy and I’ll see you on Monday.”
I watch his retreating form, trying not to explode into a million tiny pieces. What just happened? What in the world have I just agreed on?
The pizza guy stands before me, annoyed. He places the two boxes in my hands, accepts his tip, then climbs into his car and drives off.
I’m left standing with the warm pizza slowly cooling off, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Brayden and I…boyfriend and girlfriend?
Shaking that off, I enter the house and find my friends nearly dying of hunger.
“Finally!” Charlie zooms to the boxes, placing them on the dining room table. The others gather around her.
“You could have grabbed something from the fridge, you know,” I tell them with a chuckle.
Dani turns to me, pizza on a plate. “What happened? Where were you? Flirting with the pizza guy?”
“Haha, you wish,” I tell her, heading over to the box and plucking out a slice. After placing it on a plate, I lower myself between her and Ally. Charlie seats herself at Dad’s spot at the head of the table.
“Brayden came over,” I tell them, then lower my face to the table and squeal as low as I can, but it’s pretty much impossible. I don’t even have an appetite, but my stomach is crying for food.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dani says. “What do you mean he came over?”
Lifting my head, I smile so widely it might slice my face in half. “He came over to my house. To talk to me.”
“What did he want?” Charlie asks. Ally bends close, like she’s dying of curiosity.
I peer down at my pizza, then slowly take a bite. Usually, I love pizza, but because I’m tingling all over, it’s hard to feel anything. “He asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend.”
They blink at me.
“It’s so my dad can get to know him and recruit him for Astor University,” I quickly explain, defensive for some reason. And I don’t know why. These girls wouldn’t judge me.
Charlie holds up her hand. “One second. He’s using you to get to your dad? That’s wrong on so many levels. You shouldn’t have agreed.”
“No, it’s not like that. He’s not using me at all. He was so kind and sweet when he asked. Like, he made sure I was totally okay with it. He’s not using me if I know I’m being used, Charlie.”
She frowns, but doesn’t say anything. Dani looks deep in thought, as if she’s trying to wrap her head around the whole thing.
“Football means the world to him,” I go on. “He lost his brother two years ago and he wants to go pro and make his family—especially his brother—proud of him. And I don’t mind helping out. It’s not like I’ll get hurt or anything.”
Ally rests her hand on my arm. “Won’t you, though? You have a massive crush on Brayden. Won’t it hurt you to be so close to him, knowing it’s all fake and he doesn’t feel the same way about you?”
I give her a strained smile. “Brayden and I live in two different worlds. There’s no chance in heck we’d ever date for real. So if this is my only chance to get close to him and spend time with him, then I’ll do it. And yes, it’s going to be hard, but hanging out with him is better than nothing at all. At least this way, I can live out my fantasies, for a little while, anyway.”
Ally squeezes my arm. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”
“I am. Even if it’ll be fake, my memories will be real.” I give them all a wide smile. “I’m a big girl and I’ll be okay. All that matters to me is being near him.”
“If that’s what you want, we’ll support you,” Dani tells me. “And you’re a good person for helping him accomplish something that means so much to him.”
I shrug. “I don’t just have a huge crush on him, I’m kind of invested in him, you know? I think it’s because of the interview. I got to know a side of him I didn’t know he had. Like how much football is ingrained in his life and his family’s. It ties them all together. And ever since Brock died…I just understand him.”
Dani grins crookedly. “Or maybe it is your massive crush and you’d do anything for the guy.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab a napkin and chuck it at her.
Chapter Nine
I’ve had the most amazing dream. Thee Brayden Barrington came to my house on Saturday and asked the Invisible Girl to be his girlfriend.
I smile at the ceiling as sleep starts to leave my body. Too bad it was just a dream. Because just pretending to be his girlfriend would last me a lifetime. Yeah, I wouldn’t need a boyfriend for another twenty years because I would have my fix just being that close to Brayden.
With a sigh of pleasure, I roll onto my side and continue to imagine what life would be like fake dating him. My gaze lands on my vanity, and I notice a strange object sitting there. I squint to try to make it out, but I have no idea what it is. It looks like a makeup bag. Why would there be…?
My body jolts up in bed as I gape at the bag. Wait a second…holy heck, it wasn’t a dream! I borrowed my mom’s makeup and placed it on the vanity so I would remember to put some on. Because I need to play the part of Brayden Barrington’s girlfriend. And his girlfriend would wear makeup.
After going to the bathroom and getting dressed, I plant myself at the vanity and open the bag. A whole lot of foreign stares back at me. I have no idea what any of this is.
I tentatively reach inside and pull out a brush, examining it from side to side. I knew I should have watched some YouTube tutorials on how to apply makeup. But I thought I could just wing it. I mean, most women put on makeup every day—how hard can it be? But that was before I saw the alien contents in this bag.
I asked Mom a few
weeks before she died if she could teach me, and she told me she would. But then she died and I had no one else to ask. And honestly, I wasn’t really interested. Trying to have a boyfriend was the least of my concerns after my mom died. And then I just assumed I was too invisible to ever snag a guy. But things are different now.
I fall back against my chair with a defeated sigh. No, things are not different. Brayden isn’t my real boyfriend. He’s just pretending. So breaking my head trying to figure out this makeup isn’t even worth it.
But will people buy us being together if I look like a toad?
I grab my phone and send a group text to my friends.
Kara: Anyone have time to give me a quick tutorial on makeup? Just the basics.
Dani: The last time I tried to put on makeup, my dad thought I was abducted by aliens.
Ally: I don’t own makeup.
Charlie: I don’t do makeup.
I try not to groan.
Ally: I can ask my older sister for help. She’s the makeup guru.
Now I just feel pathetic. I’m nearly seventeen years old and don’t know how to put on makeup. Even twelve year olds know how to do this.
Kara: It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, guys.
I don’t have that much time before school starts, so I quickly search for a five minute tutorial on the basics of makeup application. It seems simple enough.
But five minutes later, I realize there’s nothing remotely simple about makeup. My lipstick smears my teeth, I nearly blind myself applying mascara, the eyelash curler looks like some sort of medieval torture device, and my smoky eye looks like a smoky mess. I grab makeup remover wipes and scratch the entire thing. Maybe people won’t notice us together and I’ll have time to learn this stuff later.
I finish getting ready and fly out the door, wishing Dad a good day. Good thing the school is a ten-minute walk from my house. Mostly everyone has already arrived—the student parking lot is almost full and there are throngs of students marching to the doors.
I stop dead in my tracks and swallow hard. Once I walk through those doors, I’ll no longer be Kara Gander. I’ll be Kara Gander, girlfriend of star quarterback Brayden Barrington.
Fake girlfriend, Kara. How many times do I need to remind myself? Maybe until my heart will stop doing somersaults—which will be never.
Taking a deep breath, I throw my head up and march into the building. It’s not long before my head starts to droop and my knees knock into one another. I rush to my locker and get my stuff, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Can someone my age have a heart attack? I hope not. Because if I survive it and they ask me what caused it, I’d have to tell them it’s because I have a massive crush on my pretend boyfriend.
Breathe, Kara. Breathe.
“Kara, hey.” Someone throws an arm around me and yanks me to his chest. “There’s my girl.”
I shove away from the person, only to realize it’s Brayden. He stares at me in utter confusion.
“Oh, Brayden!” I say. “B-bo-boy…”
“Boyfriend?” he says.
“Yes, boyfriend!” I grab his arm and stretch it around me. Except, we’re standing too far apart and I end up jerking him toward me. His jaw knocks into my temple and we both cry out in pain.
“Sorry!” I say.
“I didn’t know trying to wrap my arm around my girlfriend would be physically painful,” he jokes.
I start laughing uncontrollably. Like a freakin’ hyena. What can I say? I laugh when I’m nervous.
“Sorry, it’s my fault,” he says. “I sprung up on you out of nowhere. Attempt number two?”
My throat so tight I can’t speak, I nod vehemently.
“Okay.” With a smile, he steps closer and stretches his arm over me, gathering me close to his chest. “Attempt number two is a success.”
And I start giggling like a loser. And then I feel him. Oh my gosh, I feel him. His strong arm around my shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest. The warmth of his body. And that delicious smell. My eyes flutter shut as I sink into him. Pure bliss.
“You sure you want to do this?” he whispers.
My eyes fly open. “What?”
His eyes search mine. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because there’s still time for you to back out.”
Is he insane? Does he really think I’d give this up? I’m in Brayden’s arms. My body is pressed against his. The way his arm is wrapped around my shoulder, so gentle but firm. So perfect. It’s exactly how I imagined it would be.
“Kara?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Totally okay.”
His chest heaves in relief. “Okay. Thanks again.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks, Kara. You’re awesome.”
I smile like a dope. Brayden Barrington just called me awesome.
“Can I walk you to class?” he asks.
I light up like I got struck by the sun. “Sure!”
He’s about to lead me away, when I remember I didn’t have a chance to grab my books. So the result is half of me being pulled by him while the other remains planted in my spot. “Ouch! Sorry, I just need to get my books.”
“Right.” He waits while I gather my things, then gently slips them out of my arms and tucks them under his free arm. “I’ve got that for you.”
Oh, wow, he’s such a gentleman.
Ugh, it’s fake.
But if we really were dating, he’d still carry my books. Which means he is such a gentleman. Man, my crush on him will only grow bigger and bigger.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine,” I squeak. Then I clear my throat and throw my head up like I’m the most confident person in the world. “Totally fine,” I say in a cool, deep voice.
I catch the corners of his lips lift.
“What class do you have first period?”
As he leads me down the hallway to chemistry, heads start to turn in our direction. And they all stare. I feel like a queen being escorted by her handsome king. Some of them gape at us like they’re not sure they’re seeing correctly, others whisper to each other. Several point.
I look up at Brayden, worried he won’t like the stares or pointing fingers or whispers and call the whole thing off. Which I know would be the right thing for my sake, but I don’t want to call it off. I’d rather fake date him than not date him at all.
But he just smiles pleasantly to everyone like it’s no big deal he’s got his arm wrapped around a nobody. I wonder if he’d have that kind of confidence if he really dated an invisible girl.
“Who is that?” someone whispers as we pass her. “Is she new?”
“What is she wearing?” someone else whispers. “That’s so decades ago.”
“Retro,” her friend says. “I kind of like it.”
I once again look up at Brayden, but he doesn’t seem bothered by their comments or stares.
He must sense me watching him because his gaze falls to mine. He tucks me closer to his chest like he wants to protect me—or comfort me?—and asks, “You good?”
“I’m great,” I murmur as I get lost in those gorgeous eyes. Then I shake my head to snap out of it. “I mean, yeah, I’m good.”
“Good.”
“I didn’t think they’d….stare like this,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “Sorry. That kind of comes with the territory of being who I am.”
“Sorry I’m not wearing any makeup.”
He looks at me. “What?”
“I tried putting some on this morning, but I’m telling you, it’s worse than my trig homework. And the YouTube tutorials didn’t help. Either I’m a complete moron or…a complete moron.”
His chest rumbles as a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “You’re not a moron. You’re one of the smartest people I know. And don’t sweat it about the makeup. You look great.”
I freeze as his words find a home in my brain. Did he just call me smart? And he said I lo
ok great?
But then I start wondering if he’s just saying these things because he’s supposed to. As my boyfriend, he should compliment me, right? Or maybe he’s trying to make me feel more at ease about this arrangement. Or perhaps he’s buttering me up to get close to my dad.
He stops walking and looks back at me. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow the huge lump in my throat. I can’t be like this. I have no idea how long he and I will pretend to date, but if I don’t keep my heart in check, I’ll end up hurt. So pasting on a smile, I say, “Nothing,” and I wrap my arm around his waist like I’ve been doing it all my life. “Thanks for the compliments, b-boy…” I shut my eyes for a second. “Boyfriend. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I’m an amazing quarterback, right?” he reminds me. “According to Martina, editor of the Edenbury High Times. Though it seems all of her staff doesn’t share her feelings.”
I stop walking and gape at him. “Oh my gosh, you remember that conversation?”
“Of course I remember it.”
“Ugh.” I slam the heel of my palm against my forehead. “I’m sorry I said that. I was just so nervous to ask you to do the interview and—”
“It’s okay,” he assures me with a laugh. “I’m just teasing you.”
I gape at him, dumbfounded. “Oh…you’re just joking?”
He laughs again. “Of course. I admit, it was kind of cute how nervous you were,” he says as he continues to lead me to chemistry. Were the hallways always this long? Feels like it’s never-ending. Or maybe we’re walking too slowly?
“Cute?” I ask. Has the room gotten super hot?
“Yeah. It’s cute how much you care. How dedicated you are to the paper.”
“When no one at school even cares,” I finish for him.
His eyebrows come together. “I’m sure lots of people care.”
“Not you,” I point out.
“I’m grabbing a copy of every issue. Promise. And I’ll tell my buddies to grab one, too.”