The Fine Art of Pretending

by Rachel Harris

  Brandon shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Barely anyone noticed.”

  I turn to the still-cheering crowd and realize he’s right. Only a few of the girls in the front row are smirking at my almost wipeout.

  Freaking heels. They are going to be the death of me.

  Keeping a firm grip around my waist, Brandon leads me back to our friends. The second we reach the table, Gabi and Kara tackle me.

  “How did I not know you could sing like that?” Gabi asks, pulling back from the three-way embrace. “And why in the hell didn’t I bring my camera?!”

  “Seriously, Aly, that rocked!” Kara wipes a stray hair from her wide-open mouth. “I can’t believe you got up in front of all these people! I mean, I would in a heartbeat, but you?” She squeals again and wraps me in another tight hug.

  She rocks me back and forth, and I grin, realizing I took a major step in the right direction. Casuals are defined as being fun and adventurous. A week ago, that would not have described me. But tonight, for the first time in my life, I abandoned myself in public to pure pleasure. I almost passed out while doing it, but hey, it’s all about the baby steps.

  But the question is, did Justin notice?

  I gaze over Kara’s shoulder. Brandon is standing in the middle of his friends, being not-so-gently ribbed, taking it all with a smile on his face.

  “Powerful singing there, Brando,” Carlos says, straight-faced. “Crazy moves, too.”

  “You know, it was chivalrous to try and help Aly sound better by sucking so badly,” Drew adds. “But next time, I think she can handle the singing stuff on her own.”

  Justin crosses his arms, an eyebrow arched over a devastatingly dark eye. “Yeah, that was raw entertainment right there.” He waits a beat, then his smile breaks free and he slaps Brandon on the shoulder.

  They all join in, laughing and talking, and Justin slides his gaze toward me. He nibbles his lower lip and nods, giving me a slow once-over. A choreographed victory dance plays out in my mind.

  Oh yeah.

  He noticed.

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 12TH

  7 weeks and 2 days until Homecoming

  ALY

  ALY’S CABIN, 12:35 a.m.

  My heart is totally going to beat out of my chest. Gabi clears her throat—our signal—and I ease out of my bunk, hoping the ancient springs won’t creak. I look at Kara’s empty bed. She sneaks out every night, and Thompson hasn’t caught her yet.

  Everything will be fine, Aly. Chill out.

  I tiptoe barefoot across the rough boards to where Gabi waits. She sticks her head out the door for a quick chaperone check and then waves me through. Clinging to the shadows cast from the cabin, we move stealth-like through the grass, avoiding the lampposts marking the trails, and creep toward the sand bank near the lake.

  It’s our final night at Cypress Lake. When Gabi suggested tonight’s jailbreak at dinner, I completely balked. But my fake hookup whispered in my ear, reminding me that a true Casual wouldn’t hesitate at an adventure like this, so I gritted my teeth and let them convince me it would be fun.

  As I carefully step over a fallen branch, a twig beneath my foot snaps. I jerk back, wide-eyed, sure we’re about to be busted. The worst that can happen is detention—we leave in the morning so it’s not like they can send me home early or anything—but I’ve never been in trouble before. For the last three years, I’ve managed to avoid Gabi’s nuttier adventures by claiming a mountain of homework or rigorous volleyball practice, but now there’s no backing out.

  Tonight, I’ll prove I’m the Casual type. Even if it freaking kills me.

  The moon’s reflection on the water peeks through the trees as we near the deserted beach. Gabi and I are the last to arrive. Kara and Daniel had their own secret rendezvous scheduled, and Drew claimed a headache, so tonight it’s the six of us. Justin and Lauren stand near the water, and as we approach, she slides her hands around his waist and into the back pockets of his jeans.

  The display is typical and frustrating, but I’m determined not to let it affect me. It’s not like the boy can make a move on me tonight anyway; he thinks I’m with Brandon.

  Patience is a virtue.

  I walk to where Brandon kneels in the sand, spreading out a blanket. He dusts his hands on the back of his pants and grins when he sees me at the cover’s edge. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I cross my arms. Sometimes I hate how well he knows me. “I said I’d come, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you did.” He takes my hand and tugs me down beside him. “But I bet you’re obsessing about being caught. Am I right?”

  I scowl. “No.” Normally I tell Brandon everything, but it feels important that he believe my transformation into a Casual is easy and natural. So I aim for blasé as I ask, “So what’s the plan? Just hang out and stargaze all night?”

  “Actually,” Carlos chimes in, plopping down and hogging half the blanket. “How about Truth or Dare?”

  Gabi rolls her eyes, squatting down between us. “Seriously?” She tries to look annoyed for Carlos’s benefit, but really, she’s a dare queen.

  Justin and Lauren walk over hand-in-hand and kneel down. Lauren smiles her plastic smile at me and says, “I’ll go first. I love a good dare.”

  This was why I avoided all those boy-girl parties in junior high. Truth or Dare, Spin the Bottle, Seven Minutes in Heaven—all different names for the same torture. I’m not fearless like Gabi or confident like Kara. I survived those games by a combination of avoidance and aptly timed bathroom trips. Yet here I sit—a senior in high school—and it catches up with me.

  Effing jailbreak.

  “Okay, Lauren,” Justin says with a glance at me.

  Uh-oh.

  My stomach clenches, and I swallow hard.

  “I dare you and Aly to make out for thirty seconds.”

  I stare ahead dumbly, positive I heard wrong. But from the grin twitching his lips, I can tell my ears are working just fine. A small squeak escapes my throat as Lauren shrugs like it’s no big deal. When Justin looks away, she nails me with a look of challenge.

  Where the heck’s a bathroom when you need one?

  Sliding her feet beneath her, Lauren leans forward, and I finally find my voice. “I’m not kissing Lauren!”

  She sits back, grinning in triumph.

  “What’s the big deal?” Justin asks. “It’s just a game.”

  I open my mouth, but no words come. A very small, very miniscule part of me considers doing it. Justin is noticing me. Refusing his dare will erase all the positive steps I’ve taken this week. But there’s just no freaking way it’s going to happen.

  Now, how do I get out of it?

  Luckily, Brandon speaks up. “It’s not Aly’s dare, it’s Lauren’s. She doesn’t have to do it.”

  My knight in relaxed-fit jeans. I lean against his chest and smile in gratitude.

  Justin glares at Brandon and says, “All right, Lauren, I dare you to flash everyone.”

  “Whatever.” She grabs the hem of her shirt. “You know, you can just search YouTube. I did this at Mardi Gras last year.”

  Her eyes flick to Brandon, and she lifts her top.

  Averting my gaze, I look to see if Brandon is watching the show. Thankfully, his eyes are on the sky. I don’t know why I’m so relieved, but I am. Perhaps feeling my stare, he looks down at me and then away, clearing his throat.

  Did I seriously risk getting caught for this?

  “Okay, my turn!” Lauren says, adjusting her shirt. “Brandon, truth or dare?”

  I can’t even imagine the kind of dares this girl can come up with; truth has to be the safest choice. And since I know everything there is to know about Brandon, it’d be a lot less stressful to watch. Closing my eyes, I will him to say truth.

  “Truth.”

  Another wave of relief washes over me. I give him an encouraging smile, letting him know I’m here if things get sticky. There’s a lot Brandon doesn’t l
ike talking about, his dad’s death being at the top of the list.

  “Truth?” Disappointed, Lauren scrunches her forehead. I get the distinct impression she was hoping for a dare—and I have a hunch what that dare would involve. After a few moments of painful suspense, she says, “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything good.” She huffs a breath and asks, “Brandon, are you a virgin?”

  My head snaps up. Lauren acted as if it’s the dumbest question in the world, but she inadvertently stumbled on the one thing Brandon and I never discuss. I’ve always assumed he’s not, but he refuses to tell me how far he goes with the girls he hooks up with, not that I’m that eager to know.

  Brandon looks at me, then back to Lauren. “No.”

  The truth hits like a punch to the gut.

  My jaw hurts with the strain of keeping my face as neutral as possible, and I avoid looking him in the eye. Brandon places his warm hand on my shoulder, and I stop myself from flinching.

  Why do I care if he’s a virgin or not? Any girl he sleeps with is his business.

  And we’re not really together anyway!

  This week of pretend hooking up has ended up feeling more like a week of being his pretend girlfriend. And it’s the pretend part my head and heart are having the most trouble with.

  With forced effort, I relax my spine and place my hand on his. This isn’t his fault. It’s my own brand of crazy. Brandon exhales, his breath fanning the hair on the top of my head. His thumb wraps around mine as he returns to the game. “Gabi, truth or dare?”

  I look at my friend, not surprised to find her watching me with concern. I nod, letting her know I’m okay, and the dare queen surprises me by answering, “Truth.”

  “Good. Confession time.” I hear the smile in Brandon’s voice, and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming. “How do you feel about my man, Carlos? And no copping out with that ‘I like him like a friend’ bullshit either.”

  Even from across the blanket, I hear her breath release in a rush. Her body locks up, only her eyes moving as they slide from Brandon to Carlos and then to me, pleading for my help.

  Hey, this was your guys’ suggestion, I want to say, but instead I give her an encouraging smile.

  “N-no,” she stammers. She lifts her chin and glares over at him. “I don’t like Carlos. He actually bugs the crap out of me.”

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to control her voice as well as her face. Brandon and Justin chuckle, and I try my best to hide my smile behind my hand. I so knew it!

  “Sweetheart, if you’re gonna lie, at least try to be convincing,” Lauren says, her voice dripping with false sincerity.

  Carlos leans on one arm to whisper in Gabi’s ear. I don’t know what he says, but whatever it is, it magically stops her from climbing over the blanket and ripping Lauren’s bleached-blonde tresses from her head. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and then she sinks against him and actually smiles.

  Well, what do you know? Maybe this game is good for something after all.

  Gabi clears her throat. “All right, my turn.” Her stare zeroes in on me as she says, “Truth or dare?”

  Aw, crap. Is it possible to say neither? Gabi just got burned on truth, and I’ve been far from Miss Truthful lately. What would I say if she asks about Brandon? But then, a dare almost had me making out with Lauren a few minutes ago. I waffle back and forth, gnawing on my lip like a freaking rabbit, and then spit out, “Dare?”

  Gabi sits up tall with eager eyes, and I immediately start wishing for a do-over.

  “Since this trip started, I’ve seen the two of you,” she says, motioning between me and Brandon, “give each other little kisses on the cheek and that chaste peck on the lips last night, but I’ve yet to see you go at it. I’ve spent years watching the two of you pretend you weren’t hot for each other. So go for it already.” Wiggling her shoulders, she says, “Aly, I dare you to make out with Brandon for a full minute.”

  Gabi smiles as if she’s given me a present. Like this is an easy dare.

  Ha!

  Truth, truth, truth! I pick truth!

  I turn to Brandon in alarm. We didn’t plan for this. Rules from before still apply; he can back out, but how would that look to our friends? To Justin? We hold a conversation with our eyes, Brandon studying me under scrunched eyebrows, and then his teeth sink into his lower lip. Without thinking, my eyes follow the movement.

  Has it always been that full?

  I look at his upper lip and find he has a matching set. Model lips, that’s what they are. No marks, no dry skin marring them. They look soft and wet and yummy, and I lick mine on impulse.

  “Dude, what’re you waiting for?” Carlos calls. “Plant one on her.”

  I lift my eyes and am shocked to see Brandon is staring at my mouth. He swallows audibly and flicks his gaze to mine. The emotions darkening the soft green color are too confusing to name.

  Does he want to back out?

  An exhale of breath leaves Brandon’s lips, almost like a laugh, and he scoots closer to me on the blanket. I twist my legs under myself, sitting tall as I face him. He cups my chin and tilts it toward him, drowning me in the now dark-green depths of his eyes, the cologne I gave him for his birthday filling my head. It’s woodsy and yummy and I always loved how it smelled on the store testers, but on Brandon, it’s even sexier. My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale again, this time slowly. Goose bumps prickle my arms, and my head gets fuzzy.

  Brandon slides his hand down the column of my neck and brings the other up, threading his fingers through the hair at my nape. His breath fans across my cheek, and everything south of my bellybutton squeezes tight.

  When his mouth first meets mine, it’s hesitant, questioning. But as I move my lips with his, he quickly grows bolder, coaxing them apart.

  Desire, pure and raw, electrifies my veins as his tongue sweeps my mouth. A whimpering sound springs from my chest, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Needing more. My teeth graze his full bottom lip, and I pull it, sucking on it gently.

  He moans and knots his fingers in my hair, and a thrill dances down my back.

  Brandon is an amazing kisser, just as I knew he would be. I have no control over my body’s reactions. I lose myself in his lips, his tongue, and his strong arms, forgetting time and space and even my surroundings—until Gabi’s snicker brings reality crashing around us, reminding me we have an audience.

  And that I’m kissing Brandon.

  We break apart, out of breath, and stare into each other’s eyes.

  That was unexpected.

  I search Brandon’s face, wondering if he felt anything even close to what I did.

  And still do.

  His soulful eyes search back. The adorable dimple in his cheek pops, and I lick my lips, savoring the lingering taste of spearmint. I just kissed Brandon. And I liked it. A lot.

  My stomach drops, my head spins, and my pulse races. Shaking my head, I turn to the group, trying to focus back on the game. But thoughts of the scorching kiss consume me, leaving me dazed and weak-limbed.

  I inhale a shaky breath and attempt a smile. “Carlos, truth or dare?”

  BRANDON

  BRANDON’S CABIN, 4:24 a.m.

  The second hand on the large fish clock makes its sixtieth trip around the dial, and I turn over to look at Justin’s empty bunk. He’s off with Lauren somewhere, as he’s been every other night. Drew is knocked out. Carlos is snoring.

  And I’m stuck awake, watching a damn clock and thinking about Aly.

  Tonight did not go as planned. Not that I had any plans, but ending the night making out with my best friend wasn’t exactly on my to-do list. Now that I did, I can’t shake the memory of Aly’s face when we stopped.

  There was no way to get out of that dare without coming clean about our non-hookup, so I’d planned to give her a simple kiss. Just enough to shut everyone up, no tongue or groping involved. But I hadn’t counted on her being so responsive. Or my b
ody taking over the way it did.

  Kissing Aly was fucking hot.

  The only thing keeping me from running to her cabin now and picking up where we left off is figuring out what I’d say once I got there. Knowing Aly, she’d send me back anyway, telling me we should just pretend it didn’t happen. But can we do that?

  Do we even want to?

  That girl can kiss. The whole senior class already believes we’re hooking up; would it be so bad if we did it for real?

  I punch my pillow and throw myself back onto the bed.

  No, I can’t even think about suggesting that. Aly deserves better. Whether she’ll admit it or not, she’s a Commitment all the way, and hooking up for real will only hurt her.

  And our friendship.

  Groaning, I shove the pillow over my head.

  One thing’s for sure. I’m gonna have to amp up my game plan. Either I need to get Aly to realize she’s not a Casual or find her a target other than Justin. Because if things stay the way they are for much longer, we’re going to ruin our friendship forever.

  FRIDAY, AUGUST 13TH

  7 weeks and 1 day until Homecoming

  ALY

  ALY’S ROOM, 4:30 p.m.

  Home, sweet, dirty home. I kick a mound of clothes out of the way and trudge across my bedroom floor, heaving my suitcases onto the unmade bed. I brought entirely too much crap on the camping trip. Pre-makeover, I would have had a bunch of tees, a couple pairs of shorts, and my worn-out one-piece. It would’ve all fit into one duffle bag. Instead, I got an extra cardio session in by lugging makeup, four pairs of shoes, three different bikinis, and enough wardrobe options to keep a Beverly Hills socialite happy.

  Beauty truly is pain.

  I glance at the dresser spewing clothes and consider turning on my laptop. Word of me and Brandon getting together has to have spread to the rest of the school by now. I take a step and then hesitate, imagining the “what is he doing with her” comments surely cluttering Facebook. I’m so not ready for that. Left with no other choice, I smile and flop onto my soft bed, close my eyes, and give in to what I really want to do anyway.