Faker

by Sarah Smith

  “Black is sexy as hell, especially on you. Wear that black shift dress, the slinky one with the long sleeves.”

  “It’s a sauna outside,” I moan.

  “But you’ll be indoors, and the AC will probably be cranked. You can push the sleeves up if you get hot. Wear those nude heels with it. Your legs will look a million miles long. You’ll blow him away.”

  I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s nearly six o’clock. I thank Kaitlin, hang up, and hurry to get ready for the evening. One look in the mirror to make sure I look presentable, and I’m off.

  All along the drive to Tate’s place, I think about Kaitlin’s insightful words.

  You’re just like him.

  The words that left me in disbelief an hour ago are now a source of comfort. If that had been spoken to me two months ago, I would have raged. But now? Now it makes me beam from the inside out.

  When Tate answers his front door, he’s a gorgeous, frazzled mess. He’s frowning of course, but still manages to look exquisite. His torso is clad in a charcoal-gray dress shirt, no tie. Somehow the starkness of the dark hue against his pale skin isn’t harsh. It makes his skin glow even more than it normally does. My eyes fall to his sleeves, which are rolled to his forearms. I jolt as the warmth between my legs sneaks up on me. Rolled-up sleeves on a man’s thick and veiny forearms is my greatest weakness. He must have peered into my fantasies.

  Within a second, his eyes fall from my face to my chest, then to my legs. “Holy shit.” He finds my eyes again, this time with a half-open mouth. “You look incredible.”

  I rest a hand on my hip. “Really?”

  “Fuck yeah, really.”

  The light, lips-only kiss he gives me leaves me wanting way the hell more.

  There’s a glint in his eyes. “Believe me, I’d love to do more than just kiss you on the lips right now, especially when you look this delicious.”

  His hand drops to my waist, and he gives it a squeeze. I shiver despite the humidity that hangs in the air like a heavy cloud.

  “But if I do anything other than closed-mouth kiss you, you’re toast. And we don’t have time.” Again his gaze travels down and up the line of my body. “Tonight, however . . .”

  I glide the palm of my hand to the center of his chest. “You’re looking pretty damn good yourself.” I flash him my most enticing half smile, the one I use when I’m hoping for a kiss at the end of a date.

  “Come in, then, before I ravage you in full view of the neighborhood.”

  He moves aside to let me in, then shuts the door. When he ruffles his hair with both hands, I can tell just how anxious he is.

  “Sorry, I guess I should have offered to pick you up. Not a very gentlemanly move, huh? I figured since I live closer to the school, it would make more sense . . .”

  When I clutch his hand, the wrinkles of his frown disappear. The softest smile pulls at his lips.

  “Don’t even worry about it, okay?”

  His smile widens as he taps my chin with his thumb. A giant roll of beige contact paper on the counter catches my eye. I’m about to ask about it, but then I spot a short glass filled with amber liquid near the sink.

  “Self-medicating?” I ask.

  “Scotch with water is the only way to pregame for a high school reunion.” He walks to the kitchen, and I follow.

  “That’s my go-to de-stress drink,” I say.

  He lets out an amused hum while taking a long sip. He sets down the empty glass, and a gentle smile crawls across his face. “My girlfriend’s a Scotch-drinking badass. As if I didn’t adore you enough already. You ready to go?”

  He drives us to a massive brick complex in the middle of the city that is apparently his old high school. A gigantic college-caliber football field takes up a major chunk of the outdoor space. There’s also a cluster of tennis courts, a running track, and a meticulously maintained baseball field. It looks like some high-end sports complex.

  My mouth hangs open as I step out of the car. “This is your high school?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  I point at the football field. “Most public high schools don’t have state-of-the-art athletic facilities that rival division-one colleges. This school district must have fuck-you money to afford all of this.”

  He lets out a chuckle. The sound brings goose bumps to my arms. “Yeah, I guess this school is pretty nice.”

  “Nicer than my small-town public high school. We didn’t have anything close to this.”

  I follow a slow trickle of people making their way into the building through the front entrance. When I realize Tate isn’t next to me, I spin around and reach out my hand. Relief replaces his nervous expression.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I’m here.”

  He answers with steady eyes. “Having you with me is like holding on to an anchor in rough seas.”

  There’s a burst at the center of my chest. “Really?”

  One half of his mouth curves up. I could live off the high that his brilliant crooked smiles give me.

  “Really.”

  With another squeeze of my hand, Tate keeps pace with me while we cross the parking lot. We head through the front door, the beat of a familiar mid-2000s pop song echoing through the halls. A table covered in name tags rests against the far wall. I peer ahead and see signs directing alumni to the reunion, which seems to be taking place in the gym. Round tables dot the floor. A long table against the wall holds snacks and a giant sheet cake. The roar of conversation hovers slightly above the volume of the music. It’s not a full house, but it’s close. The dim lighting is reminiscent of a high school dance. The only things missing are streamers and balloons.

  I start to walk inside, but Tate holds me back, fixed on his phone.

  “Hang on. Brendan and his girlfriend are about to walk in the front. Let’s go back and wait for them there.”

  There’s a sizable crowd gathered at the front entrance of the school now. Brendan is the first familiar face we spot. He immediately pulls Tate into a bear hug.

  “You made it!” he booms.

  He releases Tate, and when I catch a side glimpse of his face, I notice he’s blushing.

  “And you.” Brendan points to me. “You made it happen. You got this grump to show up. I owe you big-time.”

  He stretches his arms open for a hug. I hesitate for a moment, before walking up to him. I’ve never hugged one of my doctors before. I press into him and laugh.

  “Consider it a thank-you for performing my surgery.”

  He lets out a jolly cackle and gestures to a woman standing behind him. Her light brown hair flows all the way to her elbows. “Emmie, this is my girlfriend, Jillian.”

  I shake her hand. She beams a warm smile back at me and immediately compliments my outfit. She’s equally as friendly and welcoming as Brendan. They’re a perfect match.

  After a minute of milling around the front while politely conversing, I spot a tall, slim woman walk in with the exact shade of white-blond hair as Tate’s. Her light skin glows, and her wavy hair falls just past her shoulders. As she walks up to us, I notice her eyes are soft gray.

  She gently shoves her shoulder into Tate, who’s too lost in conversation with Brendan to notice her walk up to him. He turns around to hug her, and she giggles. The nervousness in his face disappears as he smiles. Just by their greeting, it’s easy to see how close they are.

  “Of course you would shove me instead of saying hello. Punk,” Tate says, then turns to me.

  “And this must be?” She gestures at me while staring knowingly at him.

  “Emmie, this is my sister, Natalie. Natalie, this is my girlfriend, Emmie.”

  Her face widens with a smile. Instead of shaking my outstretched hand, she pulls me in for a tight hug. Seems like everyone in Tate’s inner circle is a hugger. I like it.


  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” she says, swaying back and forth with me in her embrace. “Tate’s told me so much about you.” She pulls back to glance at me.

  My smile twitches. I can only imagine the unflattering and frustrating anecdotes Tate has shared with her.

  I beam back what I hope is a sincere grin. “Oh God, I hope not.”

  “Don’t worry. Everything he’s said about you has been glowing.” She turns back to him. “You did not do her justice, though. She’s stunning, Tate.”

  I let out an embarrassed laugh and babble a thanks. Tate shoves his hands in his pockets, a flustered grin on his face.

  “Jesus, you make it sound like I’ve been downplaying her. Of course she’s stunning.”

  Inside I’m bursting. He was right. Natalie is most definitely Miss Congeniality.

  “Shall we head in?” Brendan asks.

  Tate leads me down the hallway, his fingers pressed gently at the small of my back.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  He peers down at me with cool clouds for eyes, nerves nowhere to be found. “Absolutely.”

  twenty-four

  We maneuver through the crowd of bodies into the gym.

  “Told you my sister would like you.”

  “She’s incredible. A total sweetheart. I love her, and I’ve only known her for two minutes.”

  The gym is nearly full by now. Most of the tables have a handful of people sitting at them. Everyone else stands around in groups, chatting with one another. There’s hugging, squealing, and laughing. Brendan and Jillian break off to join some people across the room. I notice several heads turn and stare in the direction of Tate and me. It’s odd, but not surprising given what I now know about him. No one must have expected a grumpy shut-in like him to show up.

  Tate, Natalie, and I find an open space near a wall on the far end of the gym. Tate offers to grab us drinks, then walks to the beverage table.

  “I guess it’s just me and you holding up this wall, then,” Natalie says, elbowing the wall behind her. I laugh. “How are you feeling? After your surgery, I mean?”

  “A lot better. Tate was so sweet to take care of me. I feel bad though that he spent so much of the holiday weekend in a hospital.”

  She beams. “You shouldn’t. He was happy to do it.”

  “Oh, and I’m sorry to hear about your flat tire last night.”

  “It figures. The week after I get rid of Triple A to save money, I blow a tire.” She flicks her hand in the air. “Tate saved the day though and changed my tire in record time. My boyfriend, Eli, is putting on a new one tomorrow. I’m all set.”

  “Is he coming tonight?”

  She nods. “He had a work call when we pulled up, but he should be in soon.”

  Once our topics for small talk are exhausted, we share a few seconds of silence.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been dying to meet you.” Natalie studies me like she knows something I don’t. “I’ve never seen him this happy with anyone. He actually laughs now. Like, daily. No one’s ever gotten him to do that before. He’s a totally different person with you.”

  I do my best not to smile so wide. “I don’t know about—”

  Natalie rests her hand on my arm. Her studied stare turns sincere. “I mean it. You’re beyond special to him, you know.”

  I want to ask just what exactly Tate Rasmussen thinks is so special about me, but he’s back before I can utter a word.

  “Here we go.” He hands me a cup full of ice and what I assume is either Sprite or 7 Up. “No alcohol, unfortunately.”

  Natalie takes a sip. “Lucas Waller is hosting an after-party for our class at the bar he owns. Remember him? Aced all the AP tests. Now he owns a bar. Go figure. There will be copious amounts of alcohol there, I’m sure.”

  I chuckle.

  “What?” she says.

  “It’s nothing. Just, listening to you talk is like listening to your brother. I love it.” I playfully knock my hip into Tate. He bites his lip, marring his widening smile.

  “Really? I never noticed. How funny. I guess we’re twins after all,” Natalie says. “She’s observant. Definite keeper.”

  She winks at Tate and he turns red yet again. Seeing how easily he blushes in front of family and friends makes my stomach flip.

  Natalie turns to look around the room and waves down an in-shape man with dark hair and a golden tan. She introduces me to her boyfriend, Eli, and Tate shakes his hand. Before I can ask him polite introductory questions, a petite girl runs up to Natalie and pulls her into a jump hug. They both squeal, then excitedly chatter. An old classmate, I’m guessing. A handful of other people greet Natalie the exact same way over the next minute. Soon she’s pulled away along with Eli into a nearby group.

  “See what I mean?” Tate gestures with his cup. “Everyone loves her.”

  “She’s like a politician. Charisma emanates from her like perfume. Only with her, it’s genuine.”

  The two of us lean against the wall and silently observe.

  “Feel free to join her. Or Brendan. I’ll be fine here on my own,” I say.

  “Nah. I’m good right here.”

  “Isn’t there anyone you want to see?” I point to Brendan gesturing animatedly to a group of mostly guys, then to Natalie, who is surrounded by a gaggle of peppy ladies.

  “The only person I want to see is standing next to me.”

  He shoots me a side glance and faces ahead again. I can’t help but smile. After a minute of silently standing next to each other, I realize how calm and content I am. Witnessing Tate’s natural ease when he’s surrounded by the people closest to him is an utter pleasure.

  “This is nice.” I look up at him.

  “It is.” He gazes at me, affection in his stare.

  Our moment is interrupted when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

  “You made it!” a high-pitched voice says.

  When I turn around, a slender Asian woman narrows her gaze at me.

  “Oh, sorry! I thought you were someone else.” She lets out a string of giggles.

  “No worries.”

  She does a double take when she spots Tate standing behind me. “Oh, hey, Tate. Long time no see.” She doesn’t bother to disguise her stunned tone.

  “Yup.” He offers a head bob and deadpan stare.

  “What have you been up to? It’s been years.”

  “Not a whole lot.” He shrugs. “Rock climbing, playing rugby, revolutionizing the power tool industry. The usual.”

  “Um, okay, then.” She furrows her brow, then turns back to me. “Sorry again for running into you.”

  She shuffles away. Tate grabs my hand and leads me to the snack table.

  “Who was that?” I crane my neck to get a glimpse of the mystery woman, but she’s lost in the crowd. A handful of people peek at us, then look away.

  “Jaclyn. We weren’t close,” he mumbles.

  “I can tell.”

  “We had a few friends in common. She’s all about the small talk. I never was.”

  My stomach growls, reminding me that it’s dinnertime and I’ve eaten nothing. “I think it’s time for some cake.”

  The smell of sickly sweet sugar hits my nostrils. I grab the biggest piece I can find and shovel it into my mouth.

  Tate watches me, amused. “Hungry?”

  “I’m always hungry for cake,” I say, mouth stuffed, lips shellacked in white frosting.

  He laughs. “You are adorable.” I start to wipe at the frosty mess with the back of my wrist, but he holds a hand up. He passes me a napkin, then steals a bite of my cake. When he crinkles his nose at me, I have to steady myself on both feet to make sure I don’t fall. He’s being playful, and it’s more delicious than this cake.

  My eyes fall to the frosting-smeared paper p
late. “Your sister said something interesting to me while you were grabbing drinks.”

  “What was that?”

  He swipes a finger full of frosting from the plate and sticks it in his mouth. Biting my bottom lip is the only way I can keep from groaning. Who knew eating cake could be so sensual?

  I clear my throat. “She said I’m beyond special to you.” I want to hear Tate say how he feels about me so bad, I could yowl right here in this school gym.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

  I nod. With his thumb, he swipes a speck of frosting from the plate and dots it on my nose.

  I jerk away and laugh. “What the hell?”

  With a firm hand on my waist, he pulls me against him. In a split second, his tongue slides over the tip of my nose. The frosting’s gone.

  He hums, then licks his lips. His face darkens. “Do I seem like the kind of guy who would lick frosting off a woman’s face in full view of his high school classmates?”

  “No.”

  He leans to my ear. “That’s what you do to me, Emmie. You make me want to do things I would have never thought to do before. You make me happier than ever. That’s why you’re special.”

  Suddenly, this gym is the last place I want to be.

  My mouth inches to his ear. “Can we find someplace a bit more private?”

  I understand his darkened expression perfectly now. Pulling me by the hand, he leads me out of the gym. We meander down a long, dark hallway until we reach a row of burgundy lockers at the end of the hall. The music is a distant echo.

  I tug the collar of his shirt. “It’s crazy isn’t it? How far we’ve come.”

  He presses me against the cold metal. “A couple months ago, you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

  “And you were starting arguments with me constantly.” I trace my finger down the hardness of his collarbone.

  “Now you’re my girlfriend.” He presses me against the lockers, lowering his face to mine. “And the reason I finally dug out that roll of contact paper from my hall closet.”

  His hands are brackets pressed on either side of my waist, caging me against the lockers. I’m confused at his out-of-the-blue comment, so I kiss him. A second later, my jaw drops.