Page 31 of Fake Out

“Charlie, this place is beautiful,” I say, drinking in all the opulent details.

“Only the best for my favorite sports agent,” he replies playfully, and even though he’s being silly, a thrill runs through me at his words.

We take our seats and peruse the menu. I’m feeling even more successful just sitting in a place like this.

“I like this,” Charlie says.

I put the menu down. “What?”

He shrugs. “Being here. With you.”

Heat spreads through my chest. I can’t think straight. I look for something to say, anything but admitting the feelings I have for him.

“My mom and I used to make up stories about people when we went to restaurants,” I find myself saying.

Charlie seems amused. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. It was just something silly we did when I was a kid.”

“It doesn’t seem silly. It seems fun.”

The waiter arrives, ending the conversation, and I take it as a relief.

“I’ll have the lobster,” I tell the man as I hand him the menu.

“Make it two,” Charlie says.

The moment the waiter is gone, he leans close to me, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on his face.

“Okay,” he says, grinning. “See that couple by the window? What do you think their story is?”

I stare at him. “You really want to play that game?”

“Sure. Why not?”

I glance over at the older pair, their hands entwined over the tablecloth as they gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.

“Hmm,” I say thoughtfully, tapping my chin. “They’re celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They met at a sock hop back in high school, and it was love at first sight.”

“Nice.” He chuckles. “How about the guy sitting at the bar by himself?”

I study the solitary man for a moment, taking in his slightly disheveled appearance and the way he nurses his drink with a distant expression.

“He’s a world-renowned scientist who’s just made a groundbreaking discovery,” I decide, my imagination running wild. “But he hasn’t told anyone yet because he’s afraid of what it could mean for humanity.”

“Wow, that’s deep.” Charlie laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Okay, your turn. Pick someone for me to do.”

My attention is drawn to a woman seated near the entrance, her head buried in a book as she sips from a glass of wine.

“Her,” I say, pointing discreetly. “What’s her story?”

Charlie considers her for a moment, then grins. “She’s a secret agent, undercover as an unassuming bookworm. Little does anyone know, she’s got a hidden agenda and is waiting for her target to walk through the door any minute now.”

“Brilliant!” I laugh, clapping my hands together in delight.

As we continue to invent intricate backstories for our fellow diners, my anxiety seems to lift, leaving me feeling lighter and more carefree than I have in ages.

But as the evening wears on, I find myself increasingly aware of Charlie’s presence beside me — the way his laughter fills the air like music and how his touch sends shivers down my spine when he reaches for the wine bottle. He’s charming and witty, making it impossible not to be drawn to him.

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