The Fine Art of Pretending

by Rachel Harris

  SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18TH

  2 weeks until Homecoming

  BRANDON

  FAIRWOOD CITY PLAYGROUND, GYMNASIUM, 12:20 p.m.

  The metal doors bang shut. Aly treks across the squeaky floor, arms wrapped so tightly around herself you’d think it was January instead of summer in hot-as-hell Texas, and I watch from lowered lashes.

  I flip the pages of the playbook, trying to appear busy as she plops down at the table beside me. Across the room, Baylee and Kaitie laugh, the sound highlighting just how silent the two of us are.

  “Should be an easy win today,” I say, grasping at straws. She hasn’t even looked at me.

  Aly nods stiffly, keeping her head down.

  Huffing in frustration, I throw down the clipboard and squat in front of her. “How long are we—” I break off at the sight of her bloodshot eyes and immediately change direction. “What happened?”

  She shrugs and looks away. “Allergies.”

  “Allergies, huh?”

  She grabs the clipboard and starts writing like crazy, her white-knuckled grip on the pencil dangerously close to snapping it in two. Seeing happy-go-lucky Aly upset is bad enough, but having no idea why just shows how far we’ve drifted the last few weeks.

  Aly lifts her eyes and, seeing I’m not going anywhere, sets the pencil down. “What do you want, Brandon?” She sounds exhausted, and her shoulders sag in defeat.

  I crouch lower to search her red-rimmed eyes. “I want to know what’s wrong. Are you sick? Hurt?” Aly looks away, and I grasp her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She sighs. “I’m fine.”

  Jerking her jaw out of my grip, she picks the pencil back up, obviously assuming I’ll let it go at that pathetic attempt. Her eyes dart to my chest, shoulders, and feet while she scribbles, her bouncing leg shaking the whole table.

  Our entire friendship has been about honesty, calling each other on our bullshit. She calls me on mine all the time. Every day we spend not talking is torture, like my soul is inside-out and my nerves are being sliced by an electric can opener. I need to fix this. I need to find out why she’s so upset, make it better, and get her back in my life.

  “Really?” I ask, letting my frustration bleed into my voice. “On your word?”

  Aly’s head snaps up. It’s the first time I’ve ever used the expression. I’ve never had to before because Aly’s always confided in me willingly. Using it now, knowing she’s holding back, hurts more than the silent treatment.

  A range of emotions flickers across her face before she finally answers. “No, not on my word.” She drops the damned pencil again and folds her arms on the plastic tabletop, laying her head down without breaking eye contact. “Justin and I broke up last night.”

  The thrill the words shoot through me is short-lived as I take notice of her pale, splotchy skin and puffy eyes. I was there when she broke up with Adam. She was a mess, consoling herself with endless chick flicks and mountains of chocolate, but she still never looked this bad. For her to be this upset over Justin, she must’ve fallen for him.

  “I knew this would happen.” Even as the words come out, I know I’m handling this wrong, but I can’t seem to stop. Turns out, jealousy’s a bitch. It makes my voice hard and cold as I say, “I warned you, didn’t I? But you wouldn’t listen. You were obsessed with that fucking Wall of Shame, and look what it got you.”

  A block of ice settles on my chest as soon as the words are out. The jealous, raging monster finally broke loose, verbally spewing hate on the one person who matters most. Aly’s eyes fill with pain, and I know I’m the reason it’s there. I vowed to protect her. Now I’m the one hurting her.

  I really am a monster.

  She bolts up, knocking the metal chair to the ground. “And you know everything, right, Brandon?” Her head falls back, and I watch in horror as tears spill onto her cheeks. It cripples me. “Who in the hell are you to lecture me? Have you ever put yourself out there and taken a chance?”

  Her gorgeous blue eyes, full of tears, knock me on my ass. “No,” I murmur with a shake of my head. She knows better than anyone that I haven’t. “Aly, please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know—”

  She laughs, a watery sound bubbling in her throat. “No, you don’t know.”

  Too scared to open my mouth again and make it worse, but terrified of doing nothing, I stand and move to take a step forward. She throws her palms up to stop me. “I’m going home. Can you handle this alone?”

  I nod, my heart thumping in my ears, my chest so tight my breaths are sawing in and out.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Aly storms to the double doors at the back of the gym, and I rake my fingers through my hair. Glaring sunlight carves a hole in the dim gym, and right before she steps out, Aly glances back, an unreadable expression replacing her anger.

  Self-loathing consumes me.

  If I had kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened. Not our fake hookup. Not the kiss or pretend date. Not the fights or the distance between us.

  And Justin would’ve never had a chance to hurt her.

  My body shakes with the need to make him pay and the knowledge that I failed to keep it from happening. I check the clock on the scoreboard and square my shoulders. I won’t fail her again.

  In a little over two hours, the guys and I are meeting at Oakdale Park for a friendly game of football. Justin might think he can get away with treating girls like trash, but he’s about to learn that, when it comes to Aly, all bets are off.

  BRANDON

  OAKDALE PARK, 2:58 p.m.

  My truck rumbles as I park on the edge of the open lot and scan the huddled groups for Justin. By some miracle, our team won this afternoon’s match, even with one coach gone and the other distracted as hell. We kept our season undefeated, but my mind has one, singular thought: Find Justin and make him pay.

  Through my open window, I hear Carlos cackle. I shift my gaze, then find Justin stretching in the back right corner of the field. I kill the engine, toss my keys into the ashtray, and slam the door behind me.

  No one notices me stalking across the grass until I’m almost on top of him. Carlos sees me first and says something that has Justin and Drew look up, confused. When Justin’s weasel eyes meet mine, I spit on the ground, and he jumps up.

  Carlos flies at me, pinning my arms behind my back. “Dude, what the fuck?”

  “Stay out of this, Carlos,” I warn. “This is between me and him.”

  Drew grits his teeth, muscles in his jaw popping as he struggles to push Justin in the opposite direction. Justin’s hands claw his shoulder, trying to get around him. Bring it on. “Brandon, what the hell’s your problem?”

  “My problem, Drew, is this asshole thinking he can treat girls like shit,” I say, blood roaring in my ears. “And thinking he can get away with doing it to Aly.”

  “You don’t know shit about me and Aly!” Justin breaks free, and Drew grabs his shoulders again, twisting him back around. Justin curses and leans around to shout, “Or any other girl I’ve been with. Stay the fuck out of my business, Taylor.”

  “Oh, I don’t know shit?” I ask, advancing steadily forward, dragging Carlos behind me. “I fucking know you played her. And that you brought your brother into it, making her think you’re the sweet, misunderstood type.” I draw a shallow, shaky breath and narrow my eyes. “And I know that you threw her away when you finished your twisted game.”

  Justin’s nostrils flare. “You’re fucking jealous. If anyone threw that girl away, it was you.”

  I growl, and Carlos pins my arms back tighter. “I saw her at the game. She was heartbroken.” My voice breaks on the last word, and my fists clench tighter, aching to hurt him like he did her. “Because of you.”

  “Because of me?” Justin laughs darkly. “You’re an asshole.” He wrenches out of Drew’s grip and pushes him away. “I don’t need this shit.”

  He heads for the parkin
g lot, and I’m about to yell after him when he spins back around.

  “Believe it or not, I do care about Aly, so here’s a little tip. The guy she’s in love with? The guy she’s so miserable about? Yeah, that would be you, dickhead.”

  He spits on the ground and takes off.

  My arms fall forward as Carlos drops them. “He’s my ride.”

  He races after Justin, and I slump to the grass, adrenaline slamming through my body.

  Could it be true? Is Aly in love with me?

  Exhilaration and disbelief mixes in my gut, and Drew crouches down and grabs my shoulders. “Dude, stop it! Stop blowing me off. Stop pretending this is about Justin. This is about you. And you not admitting what’s fucking obvious to the rest of us is turning you into someone I don’t know. The Brandon I know doesn’t attack his friends.” I sneer, thinking about the kind of friend Justin has been, and Drew shakes his head. “Even dicks like Justin.”

  My body shakes as I try and gain control of my breathing. As I come off the endorphin rush, a bit of sanity sinks in. “You’re right.” I close my eyes and throw my head back. “Dammit, I don’t know what the hell just happened.”

  Drew huffs. “I do. What I wanna know is why. You gonna get real with me or what?” He relaxes his grip on my shoulders. “What’s going on with Aly? Why did you call it off if it was gonna make you act like a lunatic?”

  “I didn’t,” I say, dragging my hand down my face. “She did.”

  Drew’s head jerks back. “Dude, I saw her after you left the dance. Believe me when I tell you, she thinks you dumped her.”

  “That’s not possible.” I kick out my legs, stretching out a cramp in my calf, and grab an unopened bottle of water. “Aly knows what went down. And I think I know when I’ve been dumped. Not that it’s ever happened before.”

  He continues staring at me strangely, and Carlos jogs up. “Justin took off without me. Guess that means one of you gets the privilege of taking my ass home.” He plops down and pounds my back. “Kid, you sure know how to break up a party.” Using his shirt to wipe his face, he looks at me and then Drew. “So what’d I miss?”

  Drew nods. “Brandon was just telling me Aly broke it off at the dance. Carlos, you were on the breezeway. How did you think it went down?”

  “Like Aly had her heart ripped out and bitch-slapped.” We both shoot him a look, and he shrugs. “I don’t know. She looked upset, all right? Like a girl who’d been dumped. Definitely not the dumper.”

  I shake my head. “Not possible. She’s obsessed with Justin, and breaking it off with me gave him an opening. Which he took,” I say through gritted teeth. “She got what she wanted.”

  Drew grabs his own water and takes a long sip. Chucking the half-empty bottle on the ground, he pins me with a frustrated look. “Not to risk the wrath of Angry Brandon, but when have you ever known Justin to lie to make himself look bad? He just stood there in front of two other witnesses and told you he actually cared about a girl and that girl dropped him because she was in love with you.” He looks at Carlos, who nods. “At least that’s the impression I got.”

  Carlos clears his throat. “And, if I may inject an opinion, I believe Señor Cranky Pants feels the same way about her.”

  Drew snickers, and I reel again over the idea that Aly could be in love with me.

  But I know it’s not true.

  “She’s not in love with me,” I say, lying down, exhausted, on the cool grass. “She might’ve told Justin that as an excuse, but it’s not true.”

  “For argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. That still leaves you,” Drew says, watching me intently. “Are you in love with her?”

  I open my mouth to deny it, but I can’t. It would be a lie. I know it and they know it. I’m not simply falling for Aly anymore—I’m in love with her. I’ve spent the last three weeks fighting it, afraid of falling in love and losing Aly. I’ve done both. I’ve lost the person I care about more than anyone in this world, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.

  As if reading my thoughts, Drew says, “You need to tell Aly.”

  “No, what I need is to get our friendship back.” Drew huffs, but I stand up, ignoring him. “Either telling Aly I love her will scare her off, or she’ll want a relationship—and you know where I stand on those. Either way I’ll lose her for real, and losing Aly would be like losing my dad all over again. I’d rather have her as a friend than nothing at all.”

  Drew squints up at me. “But what if it could be more?”

  I shove my hands into my pockets and shake my head. “I don’t believe in anything more.”

  ALY

  ALY’S HOUSE, 3:20 p.m.

  “I got the S.O.S.,” Gabi calls, letting herself in the back door. “And I brought reinforcements.”

  Plopping a stack of DVDs and a carton of ice cream down on the kitchen counter, Gabi kicks off her shoes and tiptoes to the recliner where I lie curled in the fetal position.

  “Oh, this needs the heavy artillery.” She reaches in her back pocket for her cell phone and speed-dials Kara. “Hey, where you at? Good, turn around and grab a bag of Oreos, a cucumber, red nail polish, and one of those neon-green mud mask things. Yeah, it’s worse than I thought.” Disconnecting the call, she squeezes into the tiny crack between the armrest and my curled-up body. “Chica, what’s going on?”

  I sigh and lift my head to rest it on her shoulder. “You were right.”

  “I usually am.”

  Without looking up, I know she’s smirking. Rolling my eyes, I continue. “You said Operation Sex Appeal was a stupid idea, and I should’ve listened. All that obsessing over Homecoming and where did it get me? Heartbroken and dateless, two freaking weeks before the dance.”

  Gabi rocks us quietly while she absorbs the information. “I take it you saw Justin last night.”

  “Saw him, stomped on his heart, broke up with him, and cried my eyes out.”

  “Hmm.” I crane my neck and take in Gabi’s scrunched-up mouth and forehead. She meets my eyes and shrugs. “I don’t get it. Wasn’t all this about Homecoming? And getting a guy? You had both, you rejected both, and you’re miserable. What the hell, Aly?”

  “I know!” Groaning, I tuck my knees tighter into my chest. “I just couldn’t do it, Gab. You should’ve heard the stuff he was saying—he’s amazing. He asked me to be his girlfriend and asked me to Homecoming…” I trail off, laughing at my wonderfully horrible situation before sighing and throwing myself against Gabi’s side again.

  “Wow. That sucks. I hate it when hot, popular guys do that stuff to me.” Scowling at her sarcasm, I kick my foot against the coffee table, flinging our chair back. Gabi shakes her head. “I mean, asking you to be his girlfriend? Sounds like he deserved to be kicked to the curb. Girl power.”

  I uncross my arms to jab her in the side. “I’m sorry, I think your agenda’s confused. Last night was self-loathing. Today is pity. And empathy, which seems to be in short supply everywhere I go.” I sigh, shaking my head and remembering my conversation with Brandon. “Now kindly stick to the program or leave. I can berate myself quite thoroughly on my own.”

  Gabi chuckles, then wraps her arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Believe me, I pity you.” I jab her again, and she laughs. “Okay, so Justin’s out. Does that mean Operation Sex Appeal’s out, too?”

  Yes. No. Ugh!

  Am I really thinking of calling the whole thing off two weeks before Homecoming? Granted, it’s been a complete and utter disaster, but why give up now? It’s not like I have anything left to lose, I think sarcastically, falling back into the self-loathing itinerary of last night.

  I shake my head and frown. “No. A good soldier never gives up, right? Until I show up at that dance with a non-friend date on my arm, the mission must go on.” Blinking my burning eyes, I exhale forcefully. “Change the subject. Please. Anything but Homecoming, Justin, Brandon, or sex appeal.”

  The back door opens with
a beep, and Kara rushes in with an armload of grocery bags that have to be cutting off her circulation. She heaves them onto the kitchen table and huffs, fanning her bangs around her face. “Never fear, spa products are here.”

  Grinning, she kicks off her shoes and pads over to the recliner. Squeezing in on the other side of me, she pinches my face in one hand and studies it with puckered lips.

  “Kara, if you’re trying to kiss me, I should warn you. I’m nothing but a heartbreaker.”

  She rolls her eyes and pulls my face to plant a kiss on the bridge of my nose. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, everyone knows I’m the heartbreaker. So which guy are we hating today, Brandon or Justin?”

  I slump against her and reply, “Neither. If we must hate on anyone, it’s me, but I’d rather we focus on distracting me from the self-loathing.”

  The grandfather clock in the hallway dings, and my stomach growls. I peel myself out of the leather recliner and reach back to help my friends up. “Time to feed the pathetic. What do y’all wanna do for lunch?”

  Kara grins. “How about a gallon of ice cream, a row of Oreos, and a big glass of milk?”

  I blink slowly, waiting to see if an alien life force has taken my health-aholic friend’s place. Kara rolls her eyes at my slack-jawed wonderment and waves her hand. “I believe you’ve earned a day of junk food, and what kind of friend would I be to let you suffer alone?”

  As miserable as I still am about Brandon and Justin, I can’t help but smile.

  She puts her hand on her hip. “Well, don’t just stand there. Bring on the spoons!”

  I hightail it to the kitchen before she can change her mind and am greeted by the chirping of Gabi’s phone on the counter. Instinctually, I pick it up and see an incoming text from Carlos. While she’s still in denial about her feelings, the two have definitely taken a turn for the closer since the camping trip. At least one good thing may’ve come out of this disaster.

  “It’s lover boy!” I call, laughing as Gabi snatches the phone out of my hand. She walks backward a few steps to read the message, and her jaw drops. “Must be something sexy.”