The Stand-In Boyfriend

by Doherty, Emma

  She’s constantly touching him, hanging all over him, kissing him. It honestly hurts my heart every time I see them together, and even though Sophie keeps reassuring me that Jessie is definitely noticing me now that Chase is in the picture, from what I can tell, it’s only pushed him closer to Courtney. When I first mentioned this to Chase and Sophie, I told them maybe Chase and I should stop pretending since it didn’t seem like our plan was working, but they both dismissed it immediately. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t a complete loss—I’d gained a new friend out of it—but they were both adamant that I needed to give it some more time, and it turns out Chase is just as hard to argue with as Sophie. Still…I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like it’s all for nothing because now Jessie will barely talk to me.

  Courtney is also constantly plastering pictures of the two of them all over social media, and it makes me want to throw up. It’s such a slap in the face, because while they’re not officially boyfriend and girlfriend again, they’re not far from it; that much is obvious. This whole time I’d been hoping he was feeling jealous, wishing it was him with me, but those pictures are evidence he isn’t sitting at home pining for me. Those pictures prove he’s getting closer to Courtney with every passing minute. As a result, I again told Chase that our agreement was pointless since Jessie wasn’t even looking at me. Jessie shutting me out is the exact opposite of what someone who’s jealous would do. Even so, Chase convinced me it wasn’t a lost cause and said the fact that Jessie has stopped speaking to him and trying to engage him in conversation definitely shows he’s not happy. Chase told me we just needed to up our game and smiled all mysteriously. I don’t know though; everything suddenly seems very complicated, and all I want is Jessie back in my life the way he used to be, even if just as a friend.

  The Saturday after Chase’s team makes it to the finals of the soccer state championships, Sophie shows up on my doorstep armed with her vanity case full of makeup and several outfits draped over her arm. I look at the stack of clothing suspiciously before looking back to her face.

  “What are you up to?”

  “What?” she asks, feigning innocence. “Can’t a girl just pop over to see her best friend?”

  I narrow my eyes. “I thought you were shopping.”

  “I was. Now I thought we could get ready for Jackson’s party together.”

  I sigh. I tried to get out of going, but Sophie and Chase weren’t having any of it. Now I have two of them riding my unsocial ass, but I have been spending a lot more time with Chase’s friends recently and I actually think Jackson is awesome. He’s secretly a total nerd and has an encyclopedic knowledge of European soccer. We’ve geeked out over the best teams at least four times this week alone.

  “That doesn’t start for like three hours.”

  “I know, but it’s fun to get ready and listen to music together, right?”

  I nod my head. I guess she’s right. “Do you know if Jessie’s going tonight? I texted him to ask but he didn’t get back to me. He’s been ignoring me more and more.”

  She rolls her eyes. “He’ll be there. Now come on, let’s start getting ready.”

  “Really? Already?”

  “Yes. Let’s do this.”

  I shrug my shoulders and follow her up to my room. Sophie can spend hours getting ready to go out, but it won’t take me more than twenty minutes. She definitely knows this, but it’s always fun to hang out so if she wants to do it while applying her makeup, who am I to argue?

  Two hours later, Sophie’s worked her magic on me while not touching her appearance in the slightest. She started out subtly, filling me in on gossip I’ve missed (and had no interest in) and talking about her morning helping at a local dance school. Then she started talking about Mark and how she knows she made a mistake and he’s finally started talking to her again (after she promised him she wasn’t going to get bored again—I’m interested to see how long that lasts) before she practically shoved me into my bathroom and told me to wash my hair. When I came out, she had her hairdryer and straightener ready, and once she was finished with that, she moved on to my face, applying my various products with all the ease of a professional makeup artist. She did listen to me slightly and hasn’t applied as much as she’d like, but even with my orders and reluctance to let her do exactly what she wants, she’s somehow managed to make me feel really, really pretty.

  Now she has the clothes she brought over laid out on my bed and is digging out around in my closet, trying to see if there’s anything in there she deems acceptable. She’s flat-out refusing to let me wear jeans, but she knows I won’t wear something as extreme as what she tends to go out in so we’re trying to find some middle ground. Eventually we settle on a loose-fitting, casual white shift dress with navy stripes that my mom bought me a couple of weeks ago. It brings out my tan from hours of training outside, and the stripes make me feel like I’m French or something—or at least the closest thing I’ll ever get to it. It’s shorter than what I’d usually wear, skimming my thighs, but Sophie insists it makes my legs look great and lets me pair it with some ankle boots. I look at myself in the mirror and must admit I like what I see. She’s made me look like a better version of me—still casual, but in a nicer way.

  She glances down at her watch as I turn to see what I look like from behind.

  I turn back to her. “Thanks.” I grin and glance at my bedside table to check the time myself. “Only thing is I’m ready an hour early and will probably have messed this up by the time you’re ready to go.”

  She just smiles at me mischievously as the doorbell rings downstairs.

  She jerks her head in the direction of my door. “Well go answer it then.”

  She’s being weird. I glance back at her once then remember there’s no one else home, and I race down the stairs before whoever it is rings the bell again.

  Chase stands on my doorstep.

  Chase in black jeans, a belt, and a crisp white t-shirt. Chase with his hair combed neatly instead of its usual messy style. Chase with actual shoes on his feet, not just sneakers, and a bunch of flowers in his hand.

  “Hey.” He grins at me, looking slightly sheepish.

  I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face, and I turn around to see Sophie standing at the bottom of the stairs. She winks at me. “You’re welcome.”

  I whirl back around to Chase. He shrugs. “I figured I should take my fake girlfriend out on an actual date.”

  I’ve never been on a date, not a proper one, not ever. “A date?”

  He nods. “A date.”

  I tilt my head to the side, sizing him up. “You don’t have to do this, Chase. I mean, I appreciate it and all, but honestly, I don’t expect it.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Shut it, Chapman. Do you know how many girls want to be in your position right now?”

  I snort. There he is—the cocky, funny guy I’ve gotten to know. “And there I was thinking you were a new man, being all sweet.”

  He winks at me. “No one can say I don’t treat my fake girlfriends real good.”

  I laugh. “Is that so?” With a start, I realize I’m flirting with him. This is what flirting feels like. He makes it so easy to flirt with him, it’s no wonder he always has girls lining up whenever he’s single.

  His gaze drops to my outfit, scanning up my body, and I force myself not to shift under his scrutiny. Eventually his gaze returns to my face. “You look beautiful,” he says, his voice sincere.

  I feel my face blush. He’s too good at this fake boyfriend stuff. “You don’t need to say that,” I tell him. “Jessie and Abigail aren’t here.”

  He doesn’t respond to that, just stares intently back at me.

  Sophie clears her throat behind me and when I turn, I see she has my black purse in her hand, holding it out to me.

  I grin at her and take it. “See you at the party?”

  She nods, grinning wide. “You bet.”

  Chase pulls up outside Luigi’s, the fanciest restaurant
in town. I’ve never eaten here. My mom and my stepdad have a couple of times and Sophie came here with her family when her brother graduated a few years ago, but I’ve never been. I’ve heard the side salads alone cost twenty bucks.

  Chase hops out of the car and hands his keys to the valet as another guy comes and opens the door for me. I climb out and see Chase greeting one of the guys at the valet stand, bumping fists and going in for a man hug. The both turn to face me. “This is her?”

  Chase nods. “This is Liv, my girlfriend.”

  He nods at me and indicates that we should follow him inside. Chase reaches down and holds my hand, leading me in behind him. I look down at our conjoined hands in surprise. He hasn’t tried to hold my hand in weeks.

  “So you get used to it,” Chase whispers quietly, still looking ahead. “So when we’re at the party in front of other people you don’t freak out when I touch you.”

  I guess that makes sense. I know Jessie is going and Abigail will definitely be there, and isn’t that the point of this whole thing anyway? “Is that why you told him I was your girlfriend?”

  He nods. “Yeah, it’s more believable if we just pretend with everyone.”

  I don’t strictly agree with that. I mean, Aaron and Sophie know the truth, but I can’t be bothered to argue with him. I’ve already figured out that Chase is pretty determined with his ideas.

  We stop by a table and a waiter has appeared, holding out my chair for me. I awkwardly pretend I’m used to this kind of service. I sink down into my seat, the plush velvet soft against my fingers, and gaze at the table. Rich cotton napkins are artfully folded in front of us with expensive plates set on an equally impressive tablecloth. There are large wine glasses that shine in the intimate light of the room and when I notice music playing, I glance up to see there’s a piano player in the corner playing light jazz—an actual piano player. I swallow hard. This is not what I’m used to.

  The waiter hands us a couple of menus, bound in thick leather and twice the size of the ones at the Italian restaurant near my mom’s bakery that we occasionally eat at. Then the waiter reads us a bunch of specials that I don’t take in and disappears, saying he’ll bring our drinks—drinks I’m pretty sure we haven’t ordered.

  “Liv?” I startle. I’ve been staring at the menu, not really processing anything I’m seeing. “You okay?”

  I nod at Chase and force a smile onto my face.

  “The pasta is really good here, and last time I had the rib-eye steak—it was unreal. You should get that.”

  I nod absentmindedly, my eyes flicking over the menu, and I nearly balk when my eyes hit the steaks. They’re all over a hundred dollars.

  The waiter returns with a beer for Chase and glass of wine for me. My eyes widen and I glance quickly at Chase. I didn’t order alcohol, and I’m pretty sure I can’t pass for twenty-one. Chase notices my apprehension. “It’s fine,” he tells me. “They’re cool.”

  I hesitate. “Do you come here a lot?”

  He nods. “All the time. Whenever my parents are in town, we come at least twice a week.” His lips curl. “My mom doesn’t cook.”

  He’s not close to his parents; that much is clear. He never talks about them, but I don’t ask him about it or push him on it. He’d tell me if he wanted to.

  I reach for my water glass, avoiding the wine, and glance around the restaurant. It’s pretty full. There are a couple of families in attendance, all dressed up to the nines, as well as a few couples. All the other couples are considerably older than us. I see someone glance toward us and I quickly look away, feeling foolish. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but they must be thinking, What the hell are they doing here? I glance at Chase, and he’s flipping through the menu. Obviously this is totally normal for him, but it’s not for me, and I feel really uncomfortable. I would rather be eating a pizza downtown, or even go to Ferguson’s.

  Another couple of minutes later, the waiter returns to ask for our order.

  Chase immediately orders a whole bunch of food without hesitation. Then the waiter turns to me expectantly.

  “Um…” I hesitate, my eyes quickly scanning the items, trying to pick out the cheapest. “Maybe I could have…um, sorry.”

  Chase frowns at me, glances at the waiter. “Give us a minute?” He nods and disappears. “You still don’t know? Want me to tell you what I’d recommend?”

  “Uh, it’s not that.”

  “Then what is it? I promise it’s all really good.”

  “Well…” I glance around the restaurant again. Champagne is being popped in one corner, and in another, a man old enough to be my grandfather is stroking the arm of a girl who looks only a couple of years older than us. “It’s really expensive,” I manage to choke out.

  Chase looks surprised, like that thought hadn’t even entered his mind. “It’s on me, Liv. That’s a given. I brought you here.”

  I shake my head. “No, Chase, I couldn’t let you do that. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “It’s really not a big deal.”

  He’s loaded, I get that—his house is enormous, his car is brand new, and he’s clearly a regular diner here at this really nice place—but that’s not me. While my family is semi-comfortable, I know we’ve been through tough times, and the thought of blowing $100 on a meal when that would be double my earnings from a day in my mom’s bakery does not appeal to me.

  “Do you not like this place?” he presses, glancing around, his tone concerned.

  “Sure, it’s nice,” I tell him. “It’s really nice.”

  He looks bewildered. “Then what’s the problem? Abigail used to love it wh—” He stops abruptly. He looks at me for a second then shakes his head sheepishly with a bemused smile appearing on his lips. “You’re not Abigail.”

  I shake my head. I am definitely not Abigail Baker.

  “And this is a place my middle-aged parents come to so they can be seen and prove they’re loaded.”

  I bite my lip. It does seem very pretentious in here.

  “And where they bring me like it makes up for all the times they’re away.”

  There it is again—a mention of his absent parents.

  “And I’m the idiot who brought you here like this is normal.”

  He looks at me for another minute and then cocks his head toward the door. “Come on,” he tells me, standing up, throwing some money down on the table, and reaching for my hand. “Let’s go.”

  He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I take his hand and follow him to the door without another word.

  By the time we reach Jackson’s house, we’ve played a couple rounds of miniature golf and bought slices of pizza from a street vendor. Chase lost the first game and is so competitive that he made me play again…and he lost again. I laughed so hard at the look on his face that I spilled soda down my dress and then spent ages trying to get rid of the stain before Chase convinced me it didn’t matter and was barely noticeable. We both got a third slice of pizza and dripped grease down our chins, and above all, we had fun—a lot of fun. I didn’t feel self-conscious or nervous, and I’m actually looking forward to the party because it means we get a chance to hang out some more. Chase is easy. He’s easy to be around, easy to laugh with, easy to be myself with.

  “You ready for this?” he asks as we walk up the path to Brendon’s house.

  I grin and nod back at him, and when he reaches for my hand, this time I accept it without hesitation. He opens the door and leads me inside, a wave of heat and noise immediately engulfing us. I don’t let go of Chase’s hand as he works his way through the crowd, not when he stops to chat with someone, not when people blatantly stare at the two of us, and not even when Abigail steps into our path.

  “Oh, I see it’s bring-your-lame-ass-girlfriend-to-a-party day.”

  Yeah, I don’t want to be around for this. I step away from Chase but he just grips my hand tighter and pulls me in toward him. “Don’t,” he warns Abigail, his tone harsh.

  The two stare at each ot
her for a minute, some sort of communication passing between them before Abigail looks away. “Whatever,” she tells Chase, not even looking at me. “I came with someone anyway.”

  “Good for you,” Chase replies, stepping around her and pulling me along behind him into the kitchen without looking back. I make the mistake of turning around to look at Abigail, and she’s not looking pissed like I imagined she would. Instead, she looks like she’s going to burst into tears.

  “Chase,” I start.

  “Look who decided to stop by,” Brendon bellows, and I see Chase has made his way over to his friends. He greets them all individually and they all say hello. I feel kinda shy in front of them; I’m not used to being around people who aren’t my closest friends, but they’re all friendly enough and I’ve gotten to know them some over the last couple of weeks since Chase is always surrounded by them. Aaron appears beside me and starts grilling me on our evening.

  He laughs out loud when I tell him about Luigi’s, glancing behind me at Chase, who is talking to Jackson and Thom. “Show-off,” he mutters, and when I raise an eyebrow questioningly, he just shakes his head.

  I shrug and explain it wasn’t really my style so we ditched it for miniature golf and pizza. Aaron grins wide.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing. It’s just funny that you’ve got him whipped already.”

  I laugh. “Sure. My fake boyfriend does exactly what I tell him to.”

  Aaron scowls and shoves me. “Say it a little louder, why don’t you?” he hisses, leaning into my ear. “They didn’t hear you next door.”

  I laugh and look around. No one is listening to us, and it’s so loud in here, I’m surprised even Aaron can hear me. “No one can hear.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You need to keep in character the whole time, Chapman. Watching you try not to jump every time he touches you and him acting like a lovesick puppy is way too entertaining for you to mess it up for me.”